Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(32)

Amusement twists her lips.

“Did you rip this out of your journal?”

“Sure did.” She crosses her legs, tall, black leather boots ending just below her knee.

“Why?”

“Because we touched on this exact entry the other night. You gonna read it? Or just stand here looking for something to disagree with me about? You’ll love it. I was horribly malicious and judgmental as a teenager. Like, even I’m horrified by my own word choices.”

I drop my eyes to the paper and read the first lines.

Dear Diary,

Travis Lynch is a piece of human garbage.

I glance at Rosie. “You sure I’m allowed to read it?”

She crosses her arms and her loose knit sweater stretches over her breasts in a way I should not be noticing. “Would be weird to put it on your desk if you weren’t.”

This is so us. We try to be nice to each other, and just end up exchanging verbal jabs. I shake my head in frustration and gaze down at the page.

Dear Diary,

Travis Lynch is a piece of human garbage. Tonight, I showed up to the party at his place unexpectedly, and I walked in to find him with his dick down the throat of some summer vacation slut. I heard that broccoli makes cum taste bad, so I hope Travis has been eating all those greens he loves so much.

I stop to peek up at Rosie, who is watching me raptly. “Does broccoli really make semen taste bad?”

With a light laugh, she shrugs. “Dunno. Never put that theory to the test.”

I chuckle and keep reading.

Ford (who is usually a total dickhead) drove to pick me up when I called him crying. The drive should have taken him twenty minutes, but he was here in ten. Means he must have been out already, so I feel less bad about ruining his Friday night. Based on the way he won’t look at me right now, I think he’s pretty pissed. I should feel bad, but I kind of like pissing him off. So, it actually feels like a bright spot for tonight.

I glance at Rosie, shaking my head. “Some things never change. Huh, Rosalie?”

“Rosalie. So formal,” she teases back.

I scoff, about to go back to reading, when I decide this might be the perfect moment to create some distance between us after last night. Lay down some ground rules. Formality isn’t a bad thing between a boss and his employee. Especially when my control around her is shit, and she doesn’t know if she has a boyfriend.

So, I focus on the journal page while the words tumble out, almost unbidden. “We’re at work, and I’m technically your boss. We should keep things professional. If we were going to fuck, I’d call you Rosie. But we’re not, so let’s stick to Rosalie around the office and at any future business functions.”

From the corner of my eye, I see her flinch. Unfortunately, I’ve always been awkward and abrupt around her—that’s another thing that hasn’t changed.

“Oh good, you’re still a total dickhead,” she mutters with a scoff.

My stomach turns, and I know what I said came out harsh. Way too fucking harsh. But I’m too chicken to look at her. If I look at her, I’ll take it back. I’ll look at her like I did last night. I’ll tell her things I shouldn’t. Reveal the thoughts and feelings I keep a padlock on. So I let the charged silence hang between us and keep my eyes latched onto the page as I finish the journal entry.

Cutting off Travis’s dick for embarrassing me like that could also be a bright spot. Or his balls. I wonder which would be worse. If I cut off his dick, he’d be dickless. But I think losing the balls would make his dick not work, and that’s probably worse.

Anyway, this is pretty incriminating. I wonder if Ford will bail me out.

That’s where it ends. That’s where she growled and tossed the diary out the window. When I chance a peek back up at her from across the office, she’s glaring at me. I know the expression well. That’s the thing about Rosie—I can be a total prick and she just gives it right back.

“Did I offend you?”

Her brow arches. “You’ve been offending me for years. If you were too nice to me, I’d worry one of us was terminal or something.”

That makes my lips twitch.

“Plus, I’d never fuck you. I hate you too much.” Ah. There it is.

It shouldn’t make me smile. But it does. She knows exactly how to get under my skin, bring out the worst in me.

I slide the page back across the desk toward her. “I like this one. It shows how truly unhinged you were.”

“I still am. Better watch your back, Mr. Ford Grant Junior.”

Oh yeah. I’ve pissed her off all right. But the thing about knowing how to piss each other off is that we also know how to confuse each other.

That’s what last night by the fire was. Mutual confusion.

And I must want more of it because I flip open my laptop and toss out, “That journal entry is fascinating, but all wrong. I was at home when you called that night. And I broke every speed limit to get to you.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


FORD





I regret thinking it was a good idea to work directly across from Rosie all day. Keeping my eyes off of her is torture. Every sigh she lets out—and there are a lot of them today—draws my gaze.

But she never looks back, her focus entirely on the laptop before her. It’s not even natural. I know she’s refusing to look at me. And the only things she’s said to me were work related. She hasn’t mocked me once.