Love Is Always Write Volume 4

see the look of relief on her face more than once. He was glad someone was relieved. His headache was increasing, and he desperately needed some water.
    Slipping his sunglasses on, he took a few steps away from the crowd. He looked around. Guests were mingling; people he'd known all his life. Many were walking towards the Broussard Center, a local favorite building where the reception was being held. Everyone was happy, smiling, and the air buzzed with energy.
    "My hero," Grace stepped up beside him.
    "You look stunning." Owen kissed her cheek and wrapped an arm around her. "It was a beautiful wedding, with a beautiful bride. I hope Charles appreciates what I'm giving up."
    "You were never interested in what I had to give." She laughed. "But, now I am going to do you a favor."
    "You don't have to do anything for me."
    "Here," she opened her palm and had two white pills laying there. "I got them from my uncle, Penny's father, he understands the headache."
    "You're a life saver." Owen scooped up the pills.
    Grace turned him towards the building. "Go in the side entrance. You know the one we used to sneak into whenever there was a big neighborhood gathering."
    "You mean the one you used to talk us into sneaking into. You're a very bad influence." He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Thanks."
    Owen managed to escape without an encounter of the Penny kind. He slipped in through the side door of the Broussard Center and headed to the kitchen. Expecting it to be busy, he looked around to find it full of food, but lacking people. He could hear noise from the main hall as preparations were going on in the other room. He figured the caterers must be setting up.
    The doors to the kitchen swung open, and two tall men stepped inside, one in a pinstriped business suit with a red tie, and the other in a white chef's uniform. They were talking rapidly, yet quietly. They were exact the same height with dark brown hair, similarly cut. Owen didn't want to hide, but he wasn't sure how to make his presence known. He took a few steps to the right to put himself in view of the two men.
    The business suit led the chef, so his back was to Owen. The suit looked over to where Owen was standing and then back at the chef in front of him. Owen casually leaned up against a metal prep table. The suit had a smoldering gaze. Owen knew that look.
    He watched the business suit take the chef's face in his hands. Owen couldn't see the chef's face, but he was fascinated by the suit. The two men put their foreheads together and continued talking. The exchange was still rapid, but less intense. The suit pressed a kiss to the chef's cheek and then turned the chef around. The suit wrapped his arms around the chest of the chef and whispered something in his ear.
    When the chef lifted his head and looked across the room, Owen had to remind himself to breathe. They must be twins. The suit was good-looking, but the chef was stunning. The chef's dark brown hair fell over his forehead. His dark brown eyes locked on Owen's without blinking. The suit continued whispering and then lifted his head. Owen sucked in a breath. The two men were staring at him.
    Owen grinned. "Don't mind me. I was just looking for some water." He raised his hand up and showed them the pills he'd been clutching.
    The suit let go of the chef and crossed the room. He stood in front of Owen and looked down the few inches in height difference. Owen looked up. The suit was definitely hot, and definitely flirting.
    "Hung-over, stranded with the worst bridesmaid, and not interested in what she's offering. I've seen it too many times; the gay friend providing distraction." The suit didn't smile as he ran a hand under the lapel of Owen's jacket. "I'm sure my brother can help you find some water." He said water as if he meant something entirely different. The suit eased his hands away, buttoned his own jacket, and walked out the side door.
    The chef was busy arranging items on a prep table across the room. Owen walked around the table and watched him from a few feet away. His large hands were sure and steady as he worked. "There's cold water in the refrigerator behind you," he said without looking up.
    Owen turned around and opened the refrigerator door. He grabbed a bottle and cracked it open. Peeling the two pills off the palm of his now sweaty hand, he tossed them in his mouth. He swallowed too hard, and the pills stuck in the back of his throat for a second. He took another long drink and