O is for Owen: The Love Brothers Saga #2: The Love Brothers, #2

By Bonnie Vane

All's fair in love and war when your dreams are at stake, isn't it?

 

When Owen Love lost his parents and the love of his life, he chucked his safe-but-boring CPA job to pursue one high-octane sport after another. But his efforts to drown his sorrows as an adrenline junkie almost get derailed when a beautiful triathlete distracts him at a BMX race, and he wipes out. As if that wasn't bad enough, he's asked to mentor her and fears she's just another golddigger out for his family's money. Then why is he so strangely attracted to her?

 

Apryl Tallon isn't about to let anything or anyone, especially an arrogant biker, stand between her and her Olympic dreams. When her coach hires the very same BMX biker who accused her of causing him to crash, she's livid. It's bad enough her family thinks she should just get a "normal" job and settle down, but now she's being thrown together with a rich, spoiled jerk ... even if he is as sexy as hell. How is she supposed to concentrate on her training when *he's* the one distracting her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bonnie Vane
• Release date: Oct 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393410324

Book preview

O IS FOR OWEN

Love Brothers Series: Owen & Apryl

Bonnie Vane

O is for Owen is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, places, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Bonnie Vane

SIGN UP FOR BONNIE’S NEWLETTER

And receive the FREE ebook ROMANCE BON BONS: BITE-SIZES STORIES FOR BINGEING

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

A Note From Bonnie

Other Books by Bonnie Vane

About Bonnie Vane

CHAPTER ONE

The steel handlebars were cold and slick with sweat under Owen’s grip as he straddled the bike and watched the EMTs putting Billy Griffiths on the gurney and into the waiting ambulance. Owen had lost count of how many riders he’d seen fall over the past couple of years, but usually, they picked themselves up and hobbled off the course to get out of the way of the other competitors. Usually, with just a few bruises and scratches, ready to ride another day.

But Billy ... Owen had heard about breaks like that but never seen one in person, with the bone poking through the skin. Billy had earned the nickname Billy Goat for his tenacity and head-butting determination, but Owen didn’t think a goat could scream with pain the way Billy had.

Well, the show must go on, right? And so Owen walked his bike past a group of onlookers who were chatting excitedly as if they’d just seen a movie stuntman. Not real, just movie magic. When he got to the top of the course, he pulled over and waited as his friend Brad pulled his own bike alongside.

Brad nodded at the ambulance as it pulled away. And that is why my fiancée won’t come to any of my meets. Too scared I might take a fall. Don’t think I’ll mention this little incident to her later.

My family’s not too keen on it, either, but they haven’t tried too hard to talk me out of it. Yet. Don’t think I’ll be telling them about Billy, either. Owen looked at the scoreboard as a race official updated the start times. If it weren’t threatening to rain tomorrow, they’d probably postpone.

Yeah. Last year, when I missed that Norfolk race due to the flu, I ended up in eleventh place in the Mid-Atlantic regionals at the end of the year. Made a fifteen thousand dollar difference in my paycheck. But at least the IRS won’t get it, either.

Owen laughed. I don’t think the IRS gets much off of either of us. Or any of us, for that matter. Even Correy.

The man in question was just then signing an autograph for a young blonde woman—on her shirt. Brad snorted. Correy’s pretty sure of himself.

Well, he’s ahead of me, isn’t he?

"By only five points in the regional rankings. You win this race, it’ll put you over the top. And then the blondes will be hanging all over you. Although, they kinda of do that to you now, don’t they? I mean that money coming to you—"

What money? I’ll probably never see a penny of it.

They don’t know that, do they? All lining up to be Mrs. Owen Love? Brad grinned. Your love life, Mr. Love, must be pretty amazing.

What love life? I’m too busy trying to beat Correy, remember?

You telling me you can’t find one decent woman out of all those lovely ladies out there? Brad waved his hand toward the spectators at the bottom of the course.

Owen just shook his head as he gazed down at the gathered crowd. Sure, there were several attractive women present, but they somehow all looked the same to him. Except ... he caught a flash of auburn hair and followed the figure with his eyes until the young woman slipped out from behind another person and he could get a better look at her. Tall and curvy, with a healthy pink glow to her cheeks and lips and wearing a green sweater and tight jeans that clung to those curves—she certainly stood out from the crowd.

Despite himself, he felt his pulse racing and gave his body a quick lecture on saving adrenaline for the race. He had help when the race steward announced the next race would begin in five minutes, and Owen and Brad rushed to get into position at the starting gate.

Owen put on his gloves and adjusted his helmet and visor, then mounted the bike and tried to focus on the visualization of the course he’d made before the early heats. This was it, the final race of the day where he was going to put that smug Correy in his place by leaping over his place in the standings.

At the sound of the starting cadence, Owen rocketed his bike onto the course down the hill and practically flew over the first dirt step-up, easily taking the early lead. He rounded the first turn into the berm. Careful, buddy boy. Not too high, stay low and straight. Not that he was worried since the turns were his specialty.

Past the turn, he glanced behind him briefly, pleased to see Correy two lengths behind, but as he swung his head back, he had to make a quick correction of the front wheels to avoid colliding with another rider who’d come up on his right. Concentrate, Owen. No distractions.

Still in the lead after the first lap, Owen knew he couldn’t relax for the second and final lap. He soared over the top part of the hurdles and was pretty sure he was making record time at the half-way point. Steady, steady, focus. Almost there ...

Owen had the finish line in sight when a head of auburn hair caught the corner of his eye. He turned his gaze toward the woman for only a second, but it was one second too long, as he felt his wheels slipping underneath him and starting to skid in the dirt. It took another five seconds for him to fall to the ground, where he lay there, stunned.

With a sudden burst of strength, resilience, or anger, he wasn’t sure, he somehow managed to right the bicycle, jump back on, and peddle furiously down to finish the course. But it was too little, too late, as he came in sixth with Correy crossing first and Brad second.

The race over, and his self-confidence and his place in the standings in pieces, he waved off Brad’s concern with a curt I’m fine, and limped toward the maintenance shed. He handed over his bike to Pete, the mechanic he trusted the most, for a quick look at the bike, and leaned against the side of the building, trying to ignore the pain in his knee.

And then he saw her ... that woman. He limped up to her, which stopped her in her tracks as she looked at him in surprise. Are you okay? she asked.

No thanks to you, but yeah.

What do you mean, no thanks to me?

That little spill I took cost me the race and set me back in the standings. It’s all your fault distracting me.

Distracting you? How on earth did I distract you?

You were standing there at the finish line.

She crossed her arms over her chest. So? I seem to recall dozens of other people doing the same thing.

Well ... he stopped, with a little part of his brain realizing how silly it sounded, but the part that was angry at the situation took control. "You were distracting."

Distracting just how exactly?

You were standing there. Looking like ... looking like ...

Like what?

Like that, he said, the reasonable part of his brain having a laugh at the angry part’s expense.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. All I was doing there was standing. I wasn’t even clapping or cheering.

Why not? Too boring for you?

For your information, I was here to observe and maybe learn. But it seems all I’m doing is learning bad sportsmanship and bad manners. Look, I’m sorry you wiped out, and I’m glad you’re okay, but seriously ... this is not my fault or my problem. Deal with it. Or get your head examined because I think you must have gotten a concussion.

She stormed off, and he stood there wondering whether he should run after her. Brad sidled up to him and said, Bad fall, man. Sure you’re okay?

I told you, I’m fine, peachy, dandy, hunky-dory.

Then what were you doing arguing with that hot babe?

It was nothing.

Didn’t look like nothing. She looked pretty pissed. What the hell did you say to her? If Carol gave me that look, I’d be singing soprano soon after.

I just thought she distracted me, and that’s why I fell.

Brad shook his head. She’s distracting, all right. As in easy on the eyes. I think her name is Apryl, by the way. Apryl Tallon, or something like that. I overheard one of the other guys checking her out. But dude—I was right behind you, and you took the last turn too high. Your wheels couldn’t get a good grip due to the extra torque on the spokes. That’s why you took that spill.

He patted Owen on the back. Don’t worry. There’s still a chance to climb past Correy in the rankings in the Salisbury Open next month.

Guess you’re right. Owen was finding it harder to ignore the pain in his knee and worried he’d banged it so badly that it might take him out of the competition. But he wasn’t about to mention it. Don’t let anyone know your weaknesses, even your friends. It was probably fine, right? He thought of Billy on the gurney and shivered.

As he looked over to the maintenance shed, he caught sight of the auburn-haired woman again, chatting with another woman and pointing back at him. He began to feel a bit sheepish. He wasn’t sure what had made him say what he did to her. Even if Brad was right, and she was a hot babe.

And what had she said? That she was there