Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
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Owen crammed the last pair of jeans into his suitcase. A late-night change of plans moved the return to Parkers Prairie up a day. Just as well. At least this would keep him from listening to Silbie's voicemail a hundred more times. Tell him I love him pounded in his head like a ball-peen hammer.
He picked up the phone and stared at the screen. Once again, his finger hovered over delete, but he couldn't bring himself to tap it. Even though the bad connection made her voice sound odd, it was his only link to her, and he wasn't ready to give that up. Soon, her first movie would be released, and he'd see her on the big screen. Or would he? He'd read it was shot in 3D, so to have her appear close enough to touch would be the worst kind of torture.
He grabbed his duffle and shoved his shoes and shaving kit inside with more force than he intended. Dash rushed to his side. Owen patted his head. "It's okay, boy. I'm not having a meltdown."
Why was he agitated? During their last session, Dr. Sequig suggested Owen ask himself that question when the emotion started to build. In this case, was it because of Hollywood gossip? Couldn't be. He no longer believed anything he read about her concerning a relationship. She still loved him. The proof was at his fingertips.
Slumping onto the bed, he rested his head in his hands. Or, was it because while he'd been gone, she'd become a movie star? Possibly. He admitted if she'd been the small-town girl he'd left behind, things would be different. But that wasn't true. In his heart, he wanted only the best for her, and knowing Silbie, if she didn't love her new-found fame, she'd kiss it goodbye.
He hit replay and listened to it one more time. It wasn't anything she'd done. It was him. His weakness—self-doubt—even shame that he had PTSD. A stronger man would handle what he'd been through and come out the other side unscathed. Plenty did. He figured the soldiers who'd rescued him were prime examples. They'd pulled off the grab-and-snatch with no more effort than carrying a sack of groceries.
Wasn't like he'd been held captive for years. Ninety-six days was nothing. Certainly not enough to wreck his life. He had no one to blame but himself. He was the problem—his fragile psyche.
He'd all but cried at the thought of his dream woman seeing his scars. But just as he'd recast her into Silbie, he'd also rewritten the script. Instead of shock, he'd given her compassion. And, it paid off big time. He'd performed like the man he once was.
Up until the erotic hallucination, he'd kept his libido in check. Mostly, because of an equipment malfunction, but now, with last night's fantasy and Silbie's message, desire kicked him in the nuts.
He craved the heat and scent of her. Longed for her touch. Yearned for her whispers of love and comfort. Thirsted for the sweetness of her lips. He'd have all of it again. Tonight— in his dreams.
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