Page 45 of That Stranded Feeling

And his delicious soft lips.

And the sexy way that bit of hair has fallen onto his forehead.

And the way all I want to do is jump onto his lap and straddle him.

Well, it’s worth a try.

I take another sip of champagne.And a deep breath. “Okay. Not sure I’ve ever told the whole thing from beginning to end before.”

He gives my thigh a squeeze that pushes the blood up to my pounding heart. “All the time in the world.”

“I met this guy in college.”

“Berkeley?”

“Yes. He was in law school.”

“When?”

“My first semester.”

“Wow, you mean you gave your whole college dating life to a guy who turned out to be a dick?”

It’s hard not to stare at his ridiculously beautiful face. “Are you going to keep asking questions?”

I pop another of the crackers from heaven into my mouth to give him thinking time.

He presses his lips together and shakes his head. His lips are even pinker when he releases them.

“Well, he kind of swept me off my feet,” I say through the final chews of the mouthful. “God, this stuff is damn good.” I point at the fig whatever-it-is on the plate and swallow. “Anyway, I was nineteen and from rural New England. He was twenty-three, smart, hot, athletic, and from a wealthy showbiz lawyer family in LA.”

Owen raises his eyebrows. “Sounds quite the catch.”

“Yeah, it was great for the first three years. Then he finished law school and moved back to LA to work in his parents’ practice. They do contracts for a bunch of movie and TV stars.”

“So, they’re loaded?”

“Yup. House in Beverly Hills. Beach house in Malibu.”

Elsa lets out a sulky groan, and we both turn to look at her. She’s given up staring at my plate and has sprawled on the floor.

“Go on.” Owen taps my leg.

I take a deep breath and try to ignore the tingles racing up my thigh. “After he went to LA, I decided to take up knitting to keep me busy. A new cool yarn store opened in town, and my grandma had taught me the basics when I was a kid, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

God, I want to hold his hands. Instead, I fiddle with my champagne glass.

“Well, like I said, my heart was never in accounting, and I got all caught up in the knitting.”

His strokes inch higher up my thigh, closer to my butt. My chest vibrates and my hands shake a little. I should move. Or make him stop.

“I still studied hard, but every other moment I was knitting either in my room or at the shop. The owner semi-adopted me. And she taught me to design things too.”

“Is she still there?”

“Yup. We’ve stayed friends. And now the internet’s back I can ask her how to elasticize socks properly.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he chuckles. Even his chuckle is hot. Who has hot chuckles? “Crumpled around the ankle isn’t a bad thing. Kind of like a sock-slash-leg-warmer hybrid.”