The Libby Garrett Intervention (Science Squad #2)

by Kelly Oram

Also by Kelly Oram

Serial Hottie

The Avery Shaw Experiment

Cinder & Ella

The Jamie Baker Series:

Being Jamie Baker

More Than Jamie Baker

The V is for Virgin Series:

V is for Virgin

A is for Abstinence

The Supernaturals Series:

Chameleon

Ungifted

Scion

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Published by Bluefields Creative

Copyright © 2015 by Kelly Oram

Edition 1.0

Edited by Jennifer Henkes
(www.literallyjen.com)

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-9966388-1-4

For Cara.

Libby

Owen Jackson is a sexy beast
—and I would know, since I’d just spent the last eighteen hours or so getting up close and personal with every square inch of his scrumptious, glorious body. On top of the washboard abs, perfect pecs, and buns of steel, he’s basketball player tall, with deliciously creamy brown skin and light green eyes. And the man has dimples, big ones that make you just want to poke him in the cheeks every time he smiles.

Trust me when I say he is physical perfection.

Holding open the door to the cell phone store, he pressed a phone into my hand and followed me out onto the sidewalk of the strip mall. I think he said something to me about the new phone, but I didn’t hear it. My brain was still lost in last night. And this morning. And an hour ago…

I’d mentioned to Owen that my parents were spending the weekend up on the mountain, and he showed up on my doorstep last night, claiming he missed his wildcat and needed a tutoring session. I tutored him, all right; all night long and well into the morning.

A finger traced lightly up my arm. “What are you thinking, wildcat?” His low, smooth voice was a dangerous purr that pulled me from my daydreaming with a violent shiver.

I usually try to contain myself around him because he’s what you’d call
afraid of commitment
and would hightail it back to his college full of beautiful girls in an instant if he knew how deep my attachment to him was. But I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “I was just thinking that I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Thanks for the phone.”

I held up my new phone and snapped Owen’s picture for my contacts. As I typed in his number, his grin turned wicked. “It was the least I could do.”

This was true. He was the one who’d tackled me, fully clothed while my phone was in my pocket, into the hot tub. It was his fault my old phone was toast, and, unlike him, I’d never be able to afford a new one.

“So,” he asked, heading for his car, “are you ready to go home and get lucky all over again? I only have so much time left before I have to get back.”

I grabbed his hand before he could step off the curb. “Wait. We’re next door to Jo’s.”

He pulled his hand from my grasp, but stopped walking and glanced at the storefront window next to the cell phone store. “The coffee shop?”

“Not just any coffee shop. Jo’s Cup o’ Joe. It’s my favorite. I can’t pass it and not stop in.”

Owen glanced around the parking lot and then scanned the crowd inside the shop. Since it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, the place was pretty quiet. Seeing that it wasn’t crowded, Owen relaxed. I didn’t understand the tension, but I didn’t question it, either. He’d always been that way. For such a popular guy, he’d never liked crowds. He cherished alone time, and that was how we always spent our time together. Not that I minded being alone with him.

Grinning, he held the door open for me. “Well, if it’s your favorite, then I suppose we
have
to stop. I could use a cup of coffee, too.”

Jo’s was practically my home away from home these days. I’d been coming here for years, but about seven months ago my best friend, Avery, started working here, and now I visited almost daily.

I recognized the two people working. The younger guy was the manager. He was only a year or two older than me, and sort of sexy in a rough-around-the-edges way, but he wasn’t the person my eyes were trained on as Owen and I walked to the counter. Working the espresso machine behind him, his coworker, an older Indian woman, was practically undressing Owen with her eyes. She had to be pushing forty, and yet she shamelessly ogled Owen even with me standing right there. Not that I blamed her, because of that whole perfect-physical-male-specimen thing Owen had going for him. But still, I was tempted to gouge her eyes out.

Thankfully, it was the guy who stepped up to take our order. When we reached the counter, I leaned against Owen, shooting an annoyed glance to the still-staring cougar using the espresso machine. As my arm rested against Owen, he stepped aside and leaned against the counter. The move nearly made me lose my balance.

I resisted a sigh. Even more than crowds, Owen hated any kind of public displays of affection. Behind closed doors, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. When we were out, he kept his distance. I told myself he was just shy, that he simply liked his privacy. I told myself that he just hated the attention because he always got so much of it from being a star on his college basketball team. I told myself that over and over again. But my stomach still twisted in on itself every time he hid our relationship.

Owen noticed my frown and pulled some cash from his wallet. “Let me pay for your coffee this time.” In a lower voice, he added, “I owe you since I wore you out so thoroughly today.”

My gut unclenched, and I smiled. “And all last night.”

“True,” he said, looking at me through hooded eyes, as if remembering all the specific details of last night. “So your coffee’s on me today.”

“Not coffee,” a deep voice interrupted, surprising both Owen and me. Avery’s manager was frowning at us. I guess he didn’t appreciate hearing about our wild night when we were supposed to be ordering. Once he had our full attention, he nodded toward me. “She likes the caramel apple cider.”

Annoyed with me or not, I smiled at the guy. Of course he knew what I liked—he’d been serving me the same drink for years—but I loved that he acknowledged it. They had such great service in this place.

Owen wasn’t nearly as thrilled. With a narrowed gaze, he looked the coffee man up and down. He wasn’t impressed. Avery’s manager was short for a guy—only a little taller than me—and a bit on the skinny side. Owen could squash him like a bug if he wanted to. The guy was decent looking—nice dark eyes and matching dark hair buzzed short. But standing next to Owen? Well, it wasn’t really fair to compare them. It wasn’t fair to compare
anyone
to Owen.

Owen looked at the guy’s eyebrow ring and then focused on the wicked tattoo sleeves that started at his wrists and ran up his arms until they disappeared beneath the sleeves of his Jo’s T-shirt. “What are you, some kind of skeezy stalker?” he asked the guy.

The coffee man’s jaw clenched. I was horrified on his behalf, but I couldn’t help grinning a little. Owen’s reaction had my heart pounding. It was territorial. And it gave me hope. “Your jealousy is noted and appreciated,” I told Owen, “but don’t be a jerk. He’s not a creep. I’m just in here all the time, and I always order the same thing.”

I flashed the guy behind the counter my best smile, hoping it would soften Owen’s insult. “I apologize on my friend’s behalf. He’s an athlete. You know how they are. And you were correct with the caramel apple cider.”

His expression eased a little. “With cinnamon and nutmeg, right?”

I laughed. “Spot on, Coffee Man. Make it happen.” Drumming my fingers on the counter, I winked at him. “
S’il vous plaît
, with a cherry on top
.
”

My playful
please
broke the tension enough that the guy behind the counter grinned at me. The smile made me do a double take. It surprised me for two reasons. One: he was always so serious. In all the times I’d been in here, I’d never seen him smile. And two: it was a gorgeous smile that reached all the way up to his eyes and softened his usually hard features. It gave him a boyish quality, shaving a few years off his appearance. I felt compelled to match it with a wide grin of my own. “Whoa. You should use that smile more often. It really ups your real estate value, if you know what I mean.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes, and Owen sputtered. “What the hell, Libby?”

“What?”

“Why are you
flirting
with that loser?”

The glare Owen shot me thrilled me more than words can describe. My heart thrummed again. I hadn’t meant to upset him, but I loved the anger rolling off of him. I hadn’t realized I could make him jealous.