Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(48)

I used to wonder if I was allergic to him. It seemed feasible enough.

But in the past few weeks, I’ve come to realize that’s not what it is at all.

“Well, I’m getting out of here,” Cora announces, slapping her thighs as she pushes up from the couch. She marches right past me, avoiding eye contact. And when she gets to the front door, I hear, “Move it, fuckboy,” followed by the door slamming behind her.

My eyes widen right as Ford clamps a hand over his mouth. His eyes shut and his shoulders shake.

“That was rude,” I say with a chuckle, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from falling into a fit of giggles.

“Oh my god,” Ford practically wheezes before running his hands through his hair. “How did I end up with you all? You’re like a fire-breathing dragon. Willa is a rabid dog, and Cora is no better.”

I smirk and cross my arms before giving a casual shrug. “Seems like you’ve got a type.”

Now his eyes are back on mine, and he’s not laughing anymore. My body warms as his eyes take a leisurely slide from my face down to my feet and all the way back up.

“Yeah. I do,” he says.

Then he’s up, his tall frame striding toward me. His big hand lands on the small of my back, making me squirm in my own skin as we walk side by side to the front door. He rubs his thumb in gentle circles, and I almost cry.

I don’t know why. The pressure. The stress. The impending conversation I’m about to face.

Before we turn into the short hallway that leads to the entryway, Ford stops. One finger hooks into the thin leather belt wrapped around my waist.

A soft gasp leaves me as I come to a screeching halt and turn to face him.

“Are you okay?” His low voice is rough and gritty as it rumbles in the air between us.

All I can offer back is a nod. “Are you?”

His head tilts, and the motion brings to mind the calculated movements of some sort of apex predator. Reminding me, like he always does, of a lion stalking around a cage. Sleek and powerful and ready to pounce. The way he looks at me sometimes is almost animalistic.

A shiver runs down my spine as he murmurs, “No.”

Such a simple word, yet it hits me in the chest like a ton of bricks.

When he turns and walks away from me, he takes my breath with him.





CHAPTER TWENTY


ROSIE





Ryan looks around the bunkhouse with an expression of shocked wonder on his face. “This is where you’ve been staying?”

The floorboards creak beneath his boat shoes, and he runs a finger along the condensation that’s gathered into little pearls on the single-pane window.

I immediately feel defensive. He comes from more than me. More money. More property. More fancy vacations.

His parents bought him the condo in downtown Vancouver outright. Mine worked themselves to the bone to build something new for retirement on property they’ve been handed down through generations. Their idea of a fun vacation for us is camping in a tent.

Ford is supposedly a billionaire, a child of an A-list celebrity, and he’s never made me feel as self-conscious of where I’m from as Ryan did with that one sentence.

“Yeah, Ryan.”

There must be something final in my voice because he turns and stares at me. His overnight bag rests at his feet, his jaw is perfectly clean-shaven his blond hair slicked in a perfect little swoop.

If he were properly distressed, he’d have run his fingers through it and fucked it all up by now. Like Ford, who’s constantly pulling at his hair.

“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

I sigh and my arms go limp at my sides. We’re standing in the middle of this tiny cabin, staring at each other like strangers. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off.

I look him straight in the eye like I promised myself I would and blow past all the lines I’ve been practicing. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

A couple of beats pass before he says, “I figured this was coming.”

A sad laugh bubbles up out of me. “Now I feel worse.”

“Don’t.” He cuts me off by holding a hand up between us. “I wasn’t planning on leaving early today, but my boss looked at me like I had two heads when I told him my plans for the weekend. He asked me why I wouldn’t just make a long weekend of it. Insisted I leave early and hit the road.”

I grimace. “Romantic.”

Now it’s Ryan’s turn to let out a sad laugh. “It’s not. It’s not at all. He said to me, ‘Aren’t you itching to see her?’ and I told him I was. But, Rosie, it’s been a month since you left, and I wasn’t itching to see you. And I think I knew this was coming and have just been avoiding it.”

“Why?”

His head tilts, and he gives me a sad look. “Have you been missing me?”

I bite down on my lip a few times, weighing my words. “Not in the way I should.”

“That’s why I’ve been avoiding it. I didn’t want to hear that. But I’ve also had enough time to realize that while I’m happy to see you, I wasn’t itching to see you.”

A physical weight lifts from my body at his admission. The heaviness on my shoulders just—poof—evaporates. I feel like I’ve been carrying an elephant around on my back, and Ryan just pulled it right off. “I think… I think we had so much in common. You know? We were in the same program. Same classes. Same study groups. Same friends…”