Page 11 of Fragile Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #3)

I’m sweaty as hell when I wake up, and it takes me a second to realize I’m still on the couch with Owen. He’s like sleeping with a heating pad, and he must have gotten hot too because he’s shirtless, with Mochi curled up in the crook of his arm.

The two of them are out, and neither makes a move when I carefully stand up from the couch, reaching for my phone on the coffee table.

Taking a few pictures of them, my heart nearly leaps from my chest at how absolutely adorable they look.

Mochi loves everyone, but he’s really taken to Owen, and there’s something about it that makes happiness bloom deep inside me, burrowing itself in my memory.

I watch them for a few seconds longer, wondering if taking a chance on Owen Sinclair would be worth it. Right now, everything in me is screaming yes.

Kneeling down in front of Owen, I push his hair back, whispering his name, not wanting to wake him or startle him, but I also don’t want to just leave him here.

“Owen,” I say softly again, my fingers tracing soft lines over his forehead and down his cheek.

Mochi lets out a contented sigh but never opens his eyes, just cuddling closer to Owen while Owen’s hand rests gently on Mochi’s soft fur.

When I say his name for a third time, Owen’s eyes flutter open, struggling to stay there as he murmurs, “Sloane?” A loose smile tugs at his lips as his eyes fall closed.

“You need to wake up,” I whisper, my fingers toying with his messy hair, and I find myself wanting to climb back onto the couch and fall asleep with him.

It’s as I’m contemplating this that Owen wakes a little more. Confused and groggy, he says, “Why are you in my room? Are you okay?”

His next question comes out with a tinge of panic, his eyes now opening, green pools of concern as he reaches out, his hand touching my cheek in a gesture that screams genuine worry, but behind it is a need to touch me, to be close to me.

“I’m not in your room,” I tell him, smiling, my hand now covering his as his thumb caresses my cheek. “We fell asleep on the couch. I’m going to go to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, a touch of disappointment in his answer, and I swallow hard, pushing back the urge to ask him if we should just stay here.

Together.

Owen sits up, easing Mochi back onto the couch, but Mochi isn’t having it. He turns to look at Owen, annoyed and bothered by being woken up, he lets out a bark of disapproval. Reaching down, I pick him up, tucking him into my side.

I begin to walk toward my bedroom, Owen still sitting on the couch, running a hand through his hair, a hard sigh falling from his lips.

“You okay?” I ask him, turning back and stepping closer.

“Yeah, just a little disoriented,” he says, standing now too.

“Can’t remember the last time I fell asleep on the couch with a girl.

” He chuckles a little, and it has this perfect quality to it.

Soft and melodic, almost like a song, and I find myself wanting to hear more of it.

“Probably high school,” he adds. “Sent my mom into a rage. Something tells me she’d have a different response now. ”

“I’m sure she would,” I say, smiling at him and how cute he looks all disheveled and sleepy.

“She adores you,” Owen says, somewhat absentmindedly.

I catch it, but I don’t know how to respond, caught off guard, and I don’t have a chance to because Owen then says, “Night, Sloane.”

Dropping a kiss on the top of Mochi’s head, he then kisses my temple in a simple and sweet gesture that makes my heart flutter, butterflies filling my stomach.

I’ve never had someone in my life like Owen. Someone who looks at me like I’m more than just some fucked up kid no one wanted. I have Alana and Daisy, but it’s not the same thing. He sees me for everything I have to offer, for everything I am and everything I want to be.

Maybe he’s always looked at me this way, but I was too worried about his family and his money to give him a chance.

Taking Mochi with me, I set him down on the bed, and he instantly curls up and promptly falls asleep. What it must be like to be him.

Sliding my shorts off, I toss them into the laundry basket and pull my bra off through the sleeve of my T-shirt.

I climb into bed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Why have I spent so much time trying to keep Owen away, turning him down and thinking it couldn’t work? Maybe I am deserving of a guy like Owen. But what if it fucks everything up? We work as roommates. Things are easy.

But what if he’s worth the risk?

I wake early the next morning, the smell of food wafting from the kitchen, and when I roll over, Mochi is gone. He was obviously distracted by the delicious smells, ditching me for the prospect of food over sleep.

Wearing just my T-shirt and underwear, I head out to the kitchen. Not even thinking about how Owen might react to seeing me dressed like this since we spend a lot of time together with me in a bikini pretty often.

But I guess this is different because when I walk into the kitchen, his mouth falls open and his eyes widen.

“You okay over there?” I tease him, sitting down at the island, pulling my feet up and tucking them underneath me.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You just have no idea, do you?” He leans back against the counter, shirtless as always, his shorts low on his hips.

“Me? What about you?” I hit back, smirking, my eyes trailing over every square inch of lean muscle and tanned skin. “I’m fully covered.”

“That is a bit of a problem,” Owen says, quickly turning back to the stove and the breakfast he has cooking.

“You’re cheeky, you know that?”

“And I never got to thank you for the malasadas yesterday,” he replies, changing the subject. “That was really nice of you.”

“It’s really nice of you to let me live here, so it’s just a small token of my appreciation.”

Owen sets a plate down in front of me, piled with scrambled eggs, spam and fresh fruit, and it looks delicious.

“Breakfast,” he says, taking a seat next to me, his plate loaded down just like mine. “There are mango and banana trees in the yard. I picked some this morning. It’s one of my favorite things about this place.”

“That’s awesome. We had a lemon tree in the yard at the house I rented with Alana and Daisy, but we never did much with it.”

“What do you have on the agenda for today?” Owen asks, taking a forkful of eggs.

“I have to work till three, but nothing after that. Probably need to get to work on a paper I have due, but it’s not for a couple of weeks.”

“I’ve got a lesson soon over at Orchid Bay,” Owen tells me, checking his watch. “I’ll catch you there, I’m sure.”

He quickly finishes off his breakfast, and when he stands, his hand on his plate, I reach over and stop him. My hand rests on top of his, and he immediately looks over at me.

“I’ll get it. You cooked. I’ll clean up. Leave it.”

His eyes are trained on mine, his gaze smoldering, practically burning a hole in my skin, and I love the way it feels, the way he looks at me.

He looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world, the only girl for him, and there’s something so pure and simple and perfect about it.

I wet my lips, and Owen’s gaze falls there, his lips slightly parted, his breath coming out in short, warm pants.

Taking in his face, his long, dark lashes, his full lips, his chiseled jaw that’s dotted with stubble, and my mind instantly wonders what it would feel like to have that stubble rubbing the inside of my thighs.

Fuck. Me.

There’s a silence passing between us that is charged with electricity and desire, and when Owen leans in, his mouth next to my ear, goosebumps dot my skin.

“Thank you for breakfast,” I start, but my words drop off the second Owen lets out a soft exhale against my skin.

“I think it’s obvious how much I want you, Sloane,” Owen whispers, and my breath catches in my throat. Suddenly feel like I can’t breathe, but in the best possible way. “But I’ll wait for you. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

He kisses the shell of my ear and then disappears into his bedroom, leaving me with a war raging in my head.

I’ve been at work for about an hour; the hotel has been busier than usual, with lots of people checking in and out, and we’ve been dealing with the typical complaints and needs.

The interesting thing about Owen’s family is that his parents still work at the hotels, coming in and out of the Orchid Bay on Maui often. It’s actually their home base in terms of where they live, but they head over to Oahu often, and they have a new ultra-luxury place going up on Lanai, too.

“Everyone doing okay?” Owen’s mom, Sally, asks. “Need refills on anything?” She opens the little fridge behind the counter, checking the POG juice and champagne supply, and then the number of leis we have.

She checks her watch and lets out a sigh, smiling as she says, “Amber, why don’t you go on break? I’ll cover for you.”

We all wear the same uniforms, even Sally. White button-front shirt, tan pencil skirt, along with an orchid tucked into our hair. It’s pretty simple and easy to wear, unlike some places I’ve worked, and even better, they supply the uniform.

“Okay, thanks,” Amber says, taking her water bottle from under the counter. “Is the pork ready yet?” Her question is directed at Sally, but I’m also curious.

Orchid Bay has some of the best kalua pork, and Sundays are luau days for the guests. We all love to work on Sundays because of it.

“It is, and there’s plenty,” Sally says, and Amber mouths a silent ‘yes’ of excitement, and I completely agree with her.

It makes my day to work on Sunday, and with how generous the Sinclair family is, I always get to take some home, having it for dinner too.

Amber heads back toward the breakroom, and I’m left with Owen’s mom, who normally wouldn’t make me nervous, but now that I’m living with him and things seem to be heating up, I find myself a little worried about what she might say.

“How are things going now that you and Owen are living together?” she asks, and damn it, my heartbeat kicks into overdrive, beating so hard that I feel it in my throat. “I’m so glad he was able to help when you had to move out of your place so unexpectedly.”

There’s nothing about her words that are condescending or accusing, which is something I’ve grown used to from people in my past. She’s genuinely curious, and when she looks over at me, she smiles sweetly.

“It’s good. The house is beautiful. I’m settling in,” I tell her, still feeling a little nervous but calming down as I talk.

“I hope Owen’s being a gentleman,” Sally says, her brows going up, and I let out a giggle. I don’t dare tell her that I’d rather he not be, especially after my conversation with Daisy about Owen’s ample goods.

“He is. You raised a wonderful guy,” I compliment, and she nods approvingly.

Our conversation stops there when two separate guests walk up.

“Hello, welcome to Orchid Bay. Are you checking in?” I ask, and the guest responds accordingly, so I begin asking all my usual questions. Getting them checked in quickly while Sally does the same thing next to me.

“Thank you for choosing Orchid Bay for your accommodations. We appreciate it. My name is Sloane if you need anything,” I say, somewhat scripted, but it comes out more naturally than it used to. I’ve been here for almost six months.

I hand the couple a map of the resort along with their room keys before asking, “Can I offer you a glass of POG juice or champagne?”

They both choose the champagne, and I hand them the glasses, etched with an orchid and the name of the resort. Everything is expertly branded but subtle, never inundating the guests with reminders of where they are.

I call over one of the bellhops to get their bags, and Sally and I finish up right around the same time. The lobby is buzzing with guests, the din of their conversations and music filling the space.

“My two favorite girls,” I hear a voice say, and I turn to find Owen smiling at us. “How’s it going up here?”

He gives his mom a kiss on the cheek, and then he walks over and does the same to me. I feel my cheeks grow warm, the pink spreading down to my chest.

“It’s good, darling,” Sally says, handing Owen a bottle of water. “How’d lessons go?”

“Great. Got another in thirty,” he replies, opening the bottle of water and taking a big drink. “Sloane, you sound so professional.” He laughs, winking at me.

“She’s very professional,” Sally counters, almost like she’s defending me.

“I know she is, Ma. Just giving her shit.”

“Owen,” Sally warns, and I’m guessing it’s because of his swearing. He rolls his eyes, and she swats him on the arm.

“And you look very professional too,” I joke, flicking a hand in Owen’s direction. “Does he ever wear a shirt?” My question is directed at Sally, and she laughs.

“Never. He’s been like this since he was little. Good thing he spends his days on the water, huh?” she says. “Not sure what you’re going to do when you have to get a real job.”

“Find one that lets me be shirtless,” Owen replies like this is a possibility. “Sloane doesn’t seem to mind. Right, Sloane?”

I swallow hard. Fuck me, I don’t mind at all.