Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(28)

Some people might think she looks like a hot mess, as I told her earlier. But I think she’s just plain hot. Blazers and high heels all day, then this at night. I think what I find appealing about the dichotomy is she clearly just wears what she wants—what she feels like—and looks good in it all.

I don’t get the sense she gives a single fuck about what I think of her, and I find that refreshing as hell.

The longer I watch her, the more a heavy tightness takes over my chest. I press my palm there to ease the ache. Willing myself to not think too hard about my body’s reaction.

“Hi!” Cora welcomes her so brightly that I almost do a double take. The enthusiasm at seeing Rosie is unexpected, but also… same.

“Hello, my little storm cloud,” Rosie says as she places her drinks and food on the grass.

My little storm cloud?

She makes her way to the firepit where we’re crouching and ruffles Cora’s black hair affectionately. Cora rolls her eyes but smiles shyly down at the ground. Leave it to Rosie to blast through any walls or tendrils of discomfort. That’s her gift. The ability to walk into a room and make everyone like her without even trying.

She’s the sun, the rest of us are just dumb rocks orbiting her.

“Hello, my big storm cloud,” she says to me, before turning her knuckles onto my scalp and giving me a noogie.

“Very professional, Rosalie.”

I don’t let myself look at her, but I freeze when I feel the nail of her index finger trace along the shell of my ear. I know she’s being playful, but I suck in a sharp breath all the same.

One I hold when she leans down, face close enough to really be unprofessional. Her breath fans across my neck when she whispers, “We’re not at work right now, Junior.”

I glare at her from the corner of my eye, but Cora interrupts me.

Laughing.

“He really does hate that, doesn’t he?”

I know they mean the nickname, but I’m still caught up in the feel of Rosie’s fingers on my skin. I didn’t hate that part at all.

Rosie steps away, ending the contact. “Oh yeah. Always has. I brought you a soda since you can’t drink beer.” Rosie wobbles her head like she’s thinking that one over. “Yet. You can’t drink beer yet. When did we start, Ford?”

“I only remember you drinking gin and tonic.”

She sighs wistfully and flops down onto an empty stump as her seat. “God. I love gin and tonic. Panty remover.”

I cough, but Rosie forges ahead, ignoring me. “Anyway, Cora, I ran to the store and got you this root beer they make at the brewery in town.”

“You ran to the store?” I ask, urging Cora closer so we can get the fire lit.

Rosie shrugs. “I mean, yeah. I wasn’t going to show up without something for Cora.”

Cora kneels beside me, and it makes me realize that for all her big attitude she is still really very small. Her legs next to mine. Her hands as they wrap around the lighter.

I stare at her, struggling to push up the safety lock while also igniting the flame. It hits me how young she is, how alone she is, that she’s been here for days, and I’ve spent that time being awkward as hell around her.

“Here.” I reach my arm over her shoulders. “I’ll do the safety. You squeeze the ignition and light the paper.”

Cora nods and captures her tongue between her lips in concentration. It seems like a simple enough thing, using a lighter. I think back to her sitting in the kitchen earlier, reading her book, staying out of the way, being perfectly agreeable, and I realize she’s adapted to be amenable to anything just to make things easier on her parents.

“There! It’s lit! It’s going!” She squeals in excitement while I find the bridge of my nose stinging as I watch her get excited over a simple flame.

“Okay, easy now,” I say as she holds the flame to the crumpled newspaper. “You’re going to blow on it gently.”

“Won’t that put it out?”

“No, just gently enough to spread the flame.”

She doesn’t look at me, but she hands over the lighter and then places her palms on the bricks surrounding the pit, blowing gently. When the flames brighten, so do her eyes. So does everything about her, and I finally feel like I’m doing something for this girl other than just being her legal guardian.

I find myself smiling too. But I’m not watching the flames.

I’m watching Cora.

And when I glance up, Rosie’s eyes are also alight. Except she’s watching me.





CHAPTER TWELVE


ROSIE





I can’t ignore the burning urge I feel the minute Ford walks away to get Cora settled in for the night. My hand dives into my pocket and I pull my phone out immediately and fire off a text to Ryan.

Rosie:





Hey, I know you’re probably at work right now. Wondering if your schedule is still looking as full or if something has opened up. I feel like we need to talk. This weekend maybe?





I stare at the lit screen of the phone, and within a minute, I see three gray dots start to roll. They start. And they stop. Several seconds pass and then they start up again. This pattern continues for much longer than is necessary for a simple answer. But I find myself sitting there waiting for words to pop up all the same.