Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(16)

I doubt Tabitha’s here this morning, but I make a mental note to reach out while I’m in town. She’s a couple of years younger than me, but we played on the volleyball team together in high school and she roamed around with me and my friends in the summer. And like I summoned her with my thoughts, she rounds the corner, wiping her hands on a white apron, dark hair in a messy braid falling out around her face. She even has a smudge of flour on her cheek.

“Rosie!” Her eyes go from tired to lit up when she sees me, and I can’t help but do the same. Tabitha’s the kind of person with whom I can waltz in and pick up exactly where I left off.

We’ve always been kindred spirits, in a way. Both of our families expected us to be the “easy” children, though where West was a little rough-and-tumble, her sister was truly down-and-out. She was that small-town story.

“Hi, Tabby. Surprise?” I offer a shrug and a small wave. “How’ve you been?”

She huffs out her breath and the loose hairs around her face fly away. “Tired.”

I chuckle. It feels like a normal part of adulthood that we all universally complain about how tired we are. So, I go with it. “I hear that,” I reply, eyes roaming the selection of beautiful pastries behind the glass.

“No. Like I am next-level tired. Remind me to never have a baby.”

My eyes snap up to her face. “A baby?”

“Erika.” She says her sister’s name with a hard look in her eyes, like that alone answers the question. And it does.

“She doing okay?” I feel awkward asking, but not asking seems worse.

“If okay means living in the city, getting knocked up, and constantly leaving a toddler with me while she takes off to do god knows what, then, yeah. She’s fucking fabulous.”

“A toddler?” I know little about small children, but I do know you don’t just up and leave them all the time. But Erika has been struggling for years. Last time I talked to Tabby, she’d paid for her sister’s treatment program herself and had set her up with a safe place to live in the city. My heart hurts to think it may not have worked out.

Tabitha wobbles her head back and forth. “Okay, well, he’s two. That saying about terrible twos is no joke. Luckily three is on the horizon. Do you know they call them threenagers then? Trying to convince myself that sounds better.”

A dry laugh sticks in my throat because I don’t know what else to do. “What about your parents? They don’t help?”

She grimaces, and I recall her mentioning that her parents were thinking of cutting all ties with Erika. My heart hurts even worse now.

“Rosie, you don’t need this drama in your life. You need tea, am I right?”

I can tell Tabitha is trying to change the direction of the conversation, so I go with it. “Yeah. Tea and a croissant. But why don’t we grab a drink sometime when you’re not working or on toddler duty? My treat. You can tell me all your drama and I’ll tell you mine.”

Her entire body sags in relief. “Yeah? I would love that. So much.”

“It’s a date,” I say brightly.

“How long are you in town?”

My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip. I’ve been avoiding looking at this reality too closely. Telling myself that after a brief break I’ll be able to head back to the city refreshed. Keeping my blinders on has been a decent strategy so far.

But this morning I answer her before I even think about it—before I can lie to myself or overthink the consequences.

With the stunning view from the bunkhouse in my mind, I say, “Indefinitely.”

Then I glance down at my receipt, realizing I just put a dent in my bank account by simply buying tea and a croissant.

I need to get a job.

The thought hits me—I could get one here, in Rose Hill. That’s what a girl with only double digits left in her bank account would do. She’d woman up and go find herself a job.

I decide on the spot that I’ll take a walk down the main drag after this and see if any workplaces in town jump out at me. Any type of job would do really. I’m proud of my education, but I’ve never felt above any sort of employment. I’m a hard worker, and now, more than ever, the draw of a paycheck is my biggest motivator.

Someone behind me clears their throat impatiently startling me into action, so I smile apologetically at my girlhood friend as I back away from the till. “Thanks, Tabby. Catch you later,” I say with a friendly wave before turning away.

Then I step out into the crisp spring morning, feeling alarmingly at peace with the prospect of getting a job here.





When Ford steps out of his SUV, I swallow hard.

Faded black jeans.

Faded black shirt.

Gold aviators perched on his strong nose.

It’s like the shiny new version of him, without the mullet and wire-rimmed glasses he sported as a kid. Back then, he was tall and skinny. His arms swung at his sides and made him look like Gumby when he walked.

He doesn’t just walk now though—he strides. All it took was a decade to go from dorky, endearing Ford to Big Dick Billionaire Energy Ford.

I take him in from where I’m loitering near the front door of what I assume will be his office, based on West’s description of the property last night.

I’ve never felt uncomfortable around him, but I’d be lying if I said watching him round the front of his SUV with a scowl on his face doesn’t send a thrill through me. The kind that makes my legs a little weak, makes my cheeks a little hot.