Page 10 of Begin Again

“What?”

Her gaze drilled into his. “We may have very different intentions for this night, Owen. You need to accept it probably won’t turn out the way you want.”

He reached out to automatically touch her, froze, then dropped his hand. “Big risks for big rewards,” he finally said. “You taught me that early on.” At her puzzled look, he prodded her memory. “The protest at the meat packing plant. I told you it wouldn’t change anything because I was afraid you might get hurt.”

She nodded. “That’s right, I remember. They threatened the protestors with violence, and it blew up in the media. But nothing happened. The plant never closed. We didn’t go to jail. Why would you remember it?”

“Because it was the first time someone showed me to fight for what you believe in, even if you don’t win. Especially if you don’t win. My grandfather kept trying to explain the concept for years, but I waved it off as some random philosophy that made no sense. At the protest, the lesson suddenly sparked like a lightbulb moment.” She cocked her head, listening intently. “All those years as a judge taught him it was about showing up every day with the intention to do good. To create justice in a small way. Many times he failed, but instead of believing he made no difference, he’d reset the next day and start anew.”

His beloved grandfather had been tough, wise, and a constant presence in Owen’s upbringing. Judge Bennett had been the one to sentence Chloe to community service at the Bishop farm, which changed her life. And when Owen had screwed up, he’d been given the same punishment. He’d hated every moment until Chloe came and changed his outlook—and his life. Losing him before being able to show him how Owen had changed was haunting, but he’d struggled to make peace and trust his grandfather knew.

“You drove that lesson home for me, Chloe. Because you showed up consistently at that plant, with your sign and your voice, even when most everyone else had left it behind and moved on to other cases. Now, it’s shut down.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Not from me yelling at workers behind the fence for months,” she said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You kept the protest relevant. You changed me. I just wanted you to know that.”

He backed off and returned to his desk, giving her space. After a few minutes, he heard the click of her keyboard. Owen re-focused on his work, reminding himself the animals at the Spagarellis’ deserved his full attention.

They worked together for the next few hours in complete harmony, with the scent of roses drifting in the air.

five

Chloe looked around the dark, almost empty pub and paused. “Umm, is the food here okay?”

He laughed, lifting his hand to the lone bartender, who called out a greeting and motioned for Owen to take a seat. He picked an oversized, high-backed booth toward the back. “Yes. Giving you food poisoning on our first date would be an epic fail.”

“It’s not a date,” she said automatically.

“Sorry. I meant evening out. It’s nothing fancy, but I figured you’d be craving a decent burger. The pub caters mostly to the after-dinner crowd here—their bar menu and beer options are legendary.”

There were so many restaurants in New York City she’d be able to spend the rest of her life dining at a new place every night and never get through them all. She appreciated all the sleek dark wood, matching bar stools, and impressive bar that displayed endless bottles of liquor, wine, and beer taps. She liked that he’d picked a casual place with no frills or impressive French food with tiny portions. “I don’t eat meat,” she said, glancing down at the menu.

“I know. I meant their veggie burgers—they make them to order. I’d also suggest the sweet potato fries. Or I can get onion rings and we can share.”

Her lip quirked. Owen had always loved sharing. He had a deep appreciation for simple yet plentiful food. She remembered how they’d hang for hours together on the rooftop of Bacchus in New Paltz, the twinkling white lights creating their own world, even as the noisy crowds from the packed streets rose up and echoed through the air. “Are you a vegetarian, too?” she asked. He’d admired her but always said there hadn’t been a steak he hadn’t loved.

“Yep. Working with farm rescues and observing the practices of slaughterhouses turned me off eating animals.”

“I understand. The more knowledge I gain, the less I seem to eat. Except pasta. Carbs seem to be my best friend and worst enemy.”

He grinned, his gaze raking over her figure with male admiration. “You always looked amazing. Especially tonight.”

Her brow arched. “I’m in jeans.”

He gave a boyish shrug. “It was always my favorite outfit on you.”

Pleasure coursed through her. Chloe had made sure to dress informal. No need to give him false pretenses she was here for anything other than closure. But staring at him now, she remembered how much she adored the way his gaze lit up whenever he laid eyes on her, making her feel like a goddess morning, noon, and night. It wasn’t about clothes, or makeup, or being sexy for him. He’d been the first man to look past her surface and see all the junk hidden inside, stuff she’d never let anyone spot, always too embarrassed she was too needy, or weak, or boring. It had been the reason she’d dressed for attention years ago, fueling all that self-anger out into the world.

Mia and Ethan and the Bishop farm had changed everything for her.

And Owen. Always Owen.

The waitress came over and they quickly put in their orders. She returned with one Hefeweizen in the grapefruit flavor she loved, and a shot of whiskey for Owen. Chloe took a hearty sip, trying to calm her racing pulse.

God, he looked good. Like her, he was dressed in jeans but paired it with a bright blue button-down shirt. The color deepened his pale blue eyes. The material stretched across his impressive chest and clung to his broad shoulders. He’d filled out these past years, obviously adding in strength training to lose the lean skinniness he used to sport. The sexy goatee added a roughness to his features, a masculinity that made her stomach flip, then drop.

Damn. She was still attracted to him, but in a way, time had only made it worse. She ached to reach out and touch him, feel the roughness of his skin, test the hardness of muscle, slide her lips across his to see if they were as soft as she remembered.