Falling for Owen by Jennifer Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t need to do that.”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Owen, it’s not your fault that guy got the wrong address.”
    “It doesn’t change the fact he threatened you and is still on the loose. Until they catch him, I’m keeping a close eye on you.”
    She opened her mouth to protest, but the determined look in his eyes settled her and made her stop. Tonight, she didn’t want to be alone, and having him in the house while she slept made her feel better.
    Settled into the pillow, she gave up the fight to stay awake and closed her eyes. “I need to be at the shop by ten thirty.”
    He pulled the blanket at the end of the bed over her and tucked her in. She sighed, content to have him close and in her space. After what her husband did to her, she’d kept men at a distance. Maybe she needed to stop putting all men in the same category as her ex.
    Owen brushed his hand over her head. “Goodnight, Claire.”
    “There’s a blanket in the hall closet,” she mumbled.
    “I’ll find it.”
    “Leave the light on in the hall.”
    “You got it, sweetheart.”
    She peeked through her lashes, watching him walk to the door and turn back to look at her before he turned off the lights.
    “Owen.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Thanks.”
    He closed the distance between them, planted both hands on the bed beside her shoulders, and leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He pushed back up and leaned over her, his gaze locked with hers. Something intense vibrated around them and the moment stretched.
    Without a word, he stood and walked out of the room, leaving her wanting to call after him to come back.

 
    Chapter Eight
----
    C LAIRE WOKE TO the smell of coffee and pancakes. Stiff and sore, especially her battered hip, she made her way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Clean, dry, and feeling a bit more limber, she dressed in simple black slacks with a turquoise top. She slid her re-bandaged feet into her sandals and went downstairs, amazed to see Owen at the stove, dressed in gray slacks, a crisp white dress shirt with a blue-and-gray tie draped around his neck, but not tied. He looked classy and elegant. Not like the man who’d been woken out of his sleep in the middle of the night and pulled on worn jeans and a Henley shirt. No, this Owen hid the ranch owner under a smooth varnish of class and sophistication.
    He flipped pancakes with one hand and talked on his cell phone with the other.
    “Yeah, the measurements I gave you should work. How long?
    “Not good enough. I need you to put a rush on it.”
    Without missing a beat, he poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her with a smile.
    “Hey, the insurance is picking up the tab. Get it done. I’ve got to go. Give me a call when you’re ready to install it.” He hung up and stared at her.
    The unexpected touch of his fingertip along her shoulder made her flinch.
    “Still hurt?”
    “No, not really. Maybe a little. I’m surprised you’re still here.”
    “I ran up to my place about an hour ago and got ready for work. Called your insurance first thing. They’ll cover your damages.”
    “Is it worth them paying, since I have to pay the deductible?”
    “I paid the deductible.”
    “Owen . . .”
    “Claire.”
    “But . . .”
    “I also negotiated a better deal on your insurance. You’ll get an updated bill and a small refund in a few days. Since Brody has a contractor working on his place, I called him. He’ll have a new double-pane sliding glass door installed day after next. He’ll even send the bill to the insurance company for you.”
    “Um, thanks.”
    “You’re welcome. How do you feel this morning?”
    “Achy and slow.”
    “Drink your coffee. It’ll help wake you up. I think your pain meds are in your purse.”
    “I’ll get them.” She moved to the counter, out of his way, but not far enough that she didn’t feel the pull between them. That weird sense of the morning after churned her stomach with nerves, but she didn’t know why. It’s not like