This One’s For You Read online

  “So, what does that mean?” he asked.

  I looked around my room. There weren’t very many options—an oversized beanbag chair, a small bay window that was hardly big enough for me, and the floor. I shook my head.

  “Meaning you can either sleep on the beanbag,” I said, “cram yourself in the bay window, take the floor, or . . .” I paused, letting my words linger in the air.

  “Or . . .” he said carefully.

  My throat went dry. Owen stared at me with his green eyes, waiting for me to finish my sentence. I swallowed. “Or you can sleep on the bed with me.”

  Owen’s eyes widened as he glanced between me and the bed. “Where do you want me to sleep?” he whispered.

  There was no denying what I wanted, but could I actually tell him?

  “Brennan?” he said, stepping forward and gently brushing my hair over my shoulder.

  “In bed . . .” I said, my voice just barely a whisper. “With me.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “DAMON!” The sound of Trent’s voice shook me from my deep slumber.

  I stirred on my bed, suddenly aware of the arms surrounding me. Oh crap . . .  Apparently the barrier—which came in the form of a pillow—didn’t do well in separating Owen and me. Which is why brother was in my room at the crack of dawn shouting for my eldest brother.

  Owen moved beside me, groaning, and then tightened his hold on me. I was frozen in place, my head resting on his bare, rock-solid chest, listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. His warm body surrounded me. Our bodies were wrapped around one another: my arm was draped across his stomach, and his arms holding me like his life depended on it. Any other time, I’d think I was on cloud nine; however, this wasn’t one of those times.

  My bedroom door banged against the wall.

  “What are you hol—” Damon’s voice cut out. I assumed at the sight of the two of us in bed together. “Oh hell no!”

  Releasing an irritating sigh, I cracked open my eyes and lifted my head. “Can you guys go back to your room and let us sleep,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah, when hell freezes over,” Trent said.

  My body vibrated from the soft chuckles coming from Owen. I looked at him, finding his eyes on mine. He offered me a small grin before removing his arms from around me. I dropped to the bed as he moved out from underneath me. I growled lowly.

  Owen sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes, and looked at my brothers, who looked ready to kill. “Nothing happened,” he said, speaking to them.

  “So we’re just supposed to believe that all the two of you did was sleep,” Trent spat out. “Wrapped in each other’s arms and nothing happened.”

  Owen nodded.

  “Ha!” Trent scoffed. “Fat chance.”

  I hit my hands against the top of my mattress and sat up. I narrowed my eyes toward my brothers. Their focus was entirely on Owen. I threw the covers off me, and climbed out of bed.

  “What the . . .” Damon said slowly. He looked me over, and shot Owen a deadly glare. “What in the world are you wearing?” He motioned at the thin shorts and tank top I had on.

  “Pajamas,” I snapped. I walked through the middle of my brothers, bumping my shoulders against theirs.

  “And again,” Trent spoke up, “you really expect us to believe that pretty boy over there didn’t try anything?”

  I stopped in my path, threw my hands in the air, and faced him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I don’t know what else to say so that you’ll get the point other than just coming right out with it . . .” I paused. “Owen and I are just friends.”

  “Sure doesn’t look like it,” Trent muttered under his breath.

  Damon took a step toward the bed, and Owen straightened his back. “If I find out that you defiled my sis—”

  “Holy crap!” I shouted, cutting Damon off. “Not that it’s anyone’s business but I’m still a virgin for crying out loud.”

  Both my brothers’ faces looked like tomatoes—very large, bright red tomatoes. I glanced over at Owen, his eyes were wide in shock. My face started to match my brothers; hot and red with embarrassment. I watched as his Adam’s apple slowly moved up and down his throat. I could see the wheels turning in his head.

  “Oh, well, uh,” Damon stuttered. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He shot his eyes to Owen. “I suggest keeping your hands to yourself if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Yeah,” Trent chimed in. “Especially if the two of you are just friends.”

  My brother Trevor appeared in the doorway, experiencing the worst case of bed hair I’d ever seen. “What I’d miss?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. He yawned and folded his arms across his chest. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

  I let out a frustrated groan. I turned on my heels, grabbed some clothes, entered the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me. I walked over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water onto my face. Only nine more days of this.

  These were perhaps going to be the longest nine days of my life. I hoped my older brothers pulled their heads out of their asses soon—preferably today. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The bags under my eyes—ones I worked hard to hide—weren’t making much of a show today.

  In fact, I felt rejuvenated. Last night was the best night’s sleep I’d had in months. I splashed my face with more water, grabbed the hand towel off the hook to my left, and dried my face. I decided to brush my teeth, not ready to deal with my brothers again. I pulled on my sweats over the shorts, and slipped my father’s alumni shirt over my head.

  When I returned to the room, Owen was the only one there, and he was fully dressed. He stood near my window, overlooking the portion of the lake that was visible from there. I looked to my door, finding it closed tightly.

  “You’re safe,” he said, a hint of amusement lacing his voice. “For now . . .”

  I collapsed on my bed, sighing loudly. I felt the bed dip, and Owen’s leg brushing against mine. “We need to talk,” he said plainly.

  I sat up beside him, ignoring the desire to wrap my arm around him. “I’m sorry about my brothers. They aren’t usually like this.”

  “It’s not about them.”

  I turned so I could get a better look at him. “Then what about?”

  “About the fact that you withheld a very pertinent piece of information about yourself,” he said, looking at me seriously.

  “Like what?”

  “Like how you’re still a virgin,” he replied, whispering the last part of the sentence.

  My eyes widened, and I felt the heat returning to my face. I had hoped he wouldn’t bring that up. I wanted it to be dust under a rug. Like it never came out of my mouth.

  “I didn’t think it was important,” I admitted, casting my eyes to the floor.

  Owen sighed. He turned his body toward mine, and pulled me so that I would face him. “It’s very important,” he whispered.

  “Why?”

  “It just is,” he replied.

  Without warning, he enveloped me in his arms, pulling me close to his chest. He rested his chin on the top of my head. As if it were something I did every day, I instinctively wrapped my arms around his midsection.

  I didn’t understand what a big deal my virginity was to him. Or why it was an important thing to know. I didn’t tell him—or many—that personal detail for a reason. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Then I go and not only tell him, but my brothers as well. How was I going to face them after shouting out something like that?

  I just wanted to stay in my room all day and stare at the soft green walls.

  I heard the sound of tires peeling against the gravel in a distance. Owen and I glanced at each other. I released my hold around him, pulled myself to a stance, and walked over to my window. I couldn’t really see the driveway from this end of the house, but I could see just enough to see the flash of silver drive by.

  A smile appeared on my fac
e.

  “Who is it?” Owen called out to me.

  “My grandparents!” I squealed. If there was anyone I loved more than my father it would be my gramps. The man was a riot, but my closest confident. I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge me. He would just sit and listen to me talk for hours on end. And he always smelled like Altoids and stale cigars. It was an odd combination, but it’s what made him . . . well, him. “Come on!”

  I grabbed Owen by the hand and dragged him off the bed. I threw my door open and started quickly down the hallway. “Do they always come this early in the morning?” Owen asked.

  “It’s just after eight,” I said, looking back at him. “This is late for them.”

  We entered the living room where the rest of my family had already gathered—including my brothers. I casually dropped Owen’s hand from mine as I met the blue gaze staring at me. I smiled sweetly, noting that my six-foot-something grandfather hadn’t changed a bit. He still had his silver hair, wrinkly eyes, and the one dimple on his right cheek when he smiled.

  Next to him stood my grandmother, the person I was to blame for my short statue. The two of us were the only ones who stood under five foot five inches. Her familiar blonde hair was peppered with strands of gray, and pulled back into a neat bun. Small, dainty metal frames circled her eyes.

  “There’s my little hobbit,” my grandpa said as I all but fell into his arms. My cheeks blushed at the use of my nickname he gave me.

  “I missed you so much, Gramps,” I muffled into his chest, taking a deep breath of his scent. He kissed the top of my head.

  When I finally released him, everyone’s eyes were on us. Waiting for the both of us to be done, as they always did. My father whispered something into my mother’s ear, and her eyes locked on mine.

  “Brennan,” my mother said sweetly. “Are you going to introduce Owen, or just let him hang out in the background?”

  “Oh!” I said quickly. Owen was smiling affectionately at me. “Grams”—I looked to her—“Gramps, this is my friend Owen. Owen, these are my wonderfully terrific grandparents.”

  He stepped forward, holding his hand out to my grandfather, and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels.”

  “Call me Grace,” my grandma replied, taking his hand into hers, and patting the top of it. “Mrs. Daniels makes me feel so . . . old.”

  “That’s because you are, Grams,” Trent teased.

  “You shush that mouth, boy.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not a day over fifty.”

  “And I built the Great Wall of China,” Gramps teased.

  The room erupted with laughter. The back of Owen’s hand grazed against mine as he stood next to me. I glanced out the corner of my eye at him, trying to resist the urge to take his hand in mine. I wasn’t quite sure what was going on. The pull seemed to intensify the moment we pulled into the driveway, and we kept finding ourselves touching in one way or another.

  I took a sideways step closer to him, hooking his pinky with mine, and held it there just out of view of everyone. He turned his head toward me, and I offered him a soft smile. Our intimate moment was over in a blink of an eye.

  “Hey, Dad,” Trent said. A mischievous grin played on his lips, which wasn’t a good sign. It meant he was about to do something I was sure I wasn’t going to like. “You’ll never believe what we walked in on this morning.”

  Asshole.

  Everyone’s attention fell on my brother, who gave me a slight nod. A small warning that he was about to throw me under the bus. I had to do something. My parents were going to find out that Owen and I slept in the same bed last night, there was no doubt about it, but I wasn’t going to let Trent have the upper hand.

  “Dad!” I said, a little too loudly. “Did you get rid of my bed when I’d asked you to?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “I thought you knew that. I thought everyone knew that?” He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “I should’ve said something sooner.”

  That might’ve been a good idea, I thought.

  “Yeah, well, your little slipup gave them that idea that it was okay to get cozy with one another,” Trent injected.

  My mother’s eyes widened, and I realized she didn’t know about it. I sighed a breath of a relief, but it only lasted for a moment when a smirk played across her face.

  “Hold on a minute,” my father said, taking a step toward us. “The two of you—” he glanced between Owen and me—“shared the same bed last night?”

  I heard Owen swallow beside me.

  “You better make an honest woman out of my little hobbit, son.” Grandpa decided to say his piece.

  Things just kept getting better and better. “We’re not getting married, Gramps. We aren’t even in a relationship. Owen is just a friend from school who happened to be alone for the holidays, so I invited him up here.”

  I didn’t know how many more times I was going to have to explain this before anyone—namely my brothers—were going to take the hint.

  “Then what’s he doing in your bed?” my father asked, stepping toward us again.

  “Well, I couldn’t let him sleep on the floor, could I?”

  “Now, darling,” Gramps said. “A woman is not supposed to share a bed with another man until marriage. You know that.”

  “Oh come off, Thomas,” Grams interrupted. “We aren’t living in the Stone Age. Owen seems like a smart kid. I don’t think he would be stupid enough to try anything, at least not in this house with all her bodyguards around.” She looked at Owen, directing her next words to him. “Would you?”

  “No, ma’am,” he answered weakly. I could tell he was getting uncomfortable.

  “There we go!” Grams exclaimed. “Problem solved. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Damon shook his head and cleared his throat. “You really expect us to believe the guy, Grams? We don’t even know him.”

  “Until he gives me reason not to, I believe he will do right by your sister. I can see it in his aura. A brilliant soft blue radiates around the boy,” she replied.

  All of us groaned simultaneously. A couple years back she had a heart attack, and obviously pulled through. It was a long road to recovery. Somewhere along the line she decided she could read peoples’ auras. At first, we humored her, going along with it, until we realized she truly believed she could see glowing colors around a person.

  “Now, leave your dear sister and her guest alone,” Grams continued. “If I hear of one more person harassing them, you will have to deal with me. Got it.” She eyed my brothers.

  “Yes, ma’am,” all three of my brothers answered at the same time.

  At first, I wasn’t sure how she knew that my brothers had been harassing us, and then I figured my mother probably called her up last night, filling her in. And then the little stunt Trent just tried to pull.

  It was clear who was in charge in the household. No one challenged Grams—not one single person. If she said to leave us alone, they were going to do it, out of fear that the little old woman would beat them down. According to her, no one was too big to bend over her knee. Though it would be quite a show watching her try.

  “Boys,” my father said, moving on from the bedroom situation. I said a silent prayer hoping that this was the last time anyone was going to give us any trouble. “Help take your grandparents things to the guest room.”

  Everyone headed off in different directions after that. My brothers went out to the car to retrieve suitcases. My father and Gramps headed down to my father’s office, something they always did when they first arrived. If the two were ever missing, it’s the first place we looked for them. Grams and my mother headed into the kitchen, more than likely to get started on the holiday baking. Leaving the two of us alone in the living room.

  I walked over to the couch, and sank down on the plush cushions. My head was throbbing, like a jackhammer was beating away against my skull. Owen sat down next to me, draped his arm over the back of the couch,
and turned toward me.

  “I’m ready for this nightmare to be over,” I said.

  “I’m not,” he replied. “I’m enjoying this.”

  “You’re kidding, right? My family is ridiculous.”

  He laughed heartily, and touched the back of my neck. “You haven’t met my family yet.”

  The idea of meeting Owen’s family was equally exciting as it was frightening. When had he decided that I was going to meet his family? When had I decided that I would like to? I was so confused about what was going on in my head.

  Up until yesterday, I was through with the guy. And here he was, sitting right beside me, and I wanted nothing more than to snuggle into the crook of his arm.

  My brothers walked into the living room, bags in tow, and eyed the two of us carefully as they stalked past us. Owen lifted his hand up in a wave, and I swear each of them growled softly. I poked him in his side, and he jumped at the touch.

  “Don’t press your luck,” I told him. “Grams is only here for three days, after that, we’re fair game again.”

  “I promise to behave,” he said, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you even a Boy Scout?”

  He laughed. “No, I wasn’t.”

  I shook my head, my body vibrating with laughter. “So, what do you wanna do today?”

  “What’s everyone else doing?” he asked.

  “Well, my dad and grandpa will be locked in the office most of the day smoking cigars and sipping whiskey. My brothers will be down in the family room probably killing each other off on Halo. My mom and Grams will be baking all day. Since I don’t smoke cigars or drink, I’m avoiding my brothers, and I can’t bake for the life of me, we can do anything we want,” I answered, and then finally stopped to take a breath.

  He raised his eyebrows, staring at me seductively, and I could only imagine what was running through his head. “I’m perfectly content with just sitting here and staring at you all day.”