Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(56)
Realistically, I know better. But it doesn’t keep me from wondering what she’s doing here, sleeping in the office. A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s 7:00 a.m. and not an unreasonable time for her to wake up. So I make my way across the room, the gummy soles of my suede Gazelles quiet on the hardwood floors.
When I sit on the couch’s far cushion, she stirs but doesn’t wake. Her Birkenstocks lie discarded on the floor nearby, and on her feet are the kind of socks you’d use to make a puppet. Gray and white with a red line.
Only Rosie could make socks and sandals cute.
I reach for her, my hand wrapping delicately around her slender ankle. Thumb rubbing against the bone that protrudes there. It takes every ounce of control to not crawl into the crook of this couch and hold her. It would be warm and cozy and completely inappropriate.
I stifle a groan and glance up at her pretty face. Her lashes flutter and her lips curve softly before she rolls onto her back and forces her legs straight into a stretch. One that has her feet pushing down into my leg and her gasping out a startled breath.
Her eyes fly open, and one hand lands on the center of her chest as she regards me with a look of shock. “Fuck me. I was not expecting you to be sitting there.”
“Sorry.” My voice comes out rough, like gravel. “I was trying to wake you up gently. I came to get a few hours of work done.”
Her hands cover her face, and she scrubs it a few times as though trying to get her bearings. “Why are you working on a Saturday?”
“No rest for the wicked.” I continue caressing her ankle, even though it’s now propped on my thigh. “You should know, you slept here.”
Her hands move off her eyes but land on her cheeks, bracketing her face as she stares at me. Clear blue eyes like fucking arrows to my heart.
“Didn’t seem right to sleep in the same room as Ryan.”
I’m hit with an instant sense of relief.
The sentence hangs in the quiet office between us. We both know the meaning, but neither of us elaborates. We both know what happened last night, but neither of us says anything about it. I did apologize to him, but not for kissing her.
“When does he leave?” I ask.
Her tongue darts out over her lips, and she glances away before sitting up. She takes her foot with her as she retreats, and I find myself missing the contact.
“Today.”
All I can offer is a nod. I don’t know what to say. Knowing about him didn’t stop me from kissing her last night. And knowing that they’re over doesn’t lessen my disdain for the guy.
There are a few good reasons I shouldn’t have kissed Rosie Belmont last night.
But Ryan isn’t one of them.
And I refuse to regret kissing Rosie.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t recognize that it can’t happen again. One boss with wandering hands in her young career is probably more than enough.
She sighs as she twists her legs, feet landing flat on the floor as she rolls her shoulders out. “Ugh. Crashing on couches isn’t as cool as it used to be.”
“You could have slept at my house,” I reply.
She responds with an unimpressed look. “Yeah, sure. That would have been great for the optics you’re so concerned about.”
I flinch and gaze away through the windows, watching the fog drifting over the lake. I think about West, but Willa is right—that could be managed. Most of all, I think about the fact she is officially my employee. I’m the one who drew up all the formal paperwork and now there’s a power dynamic even though I wish there wasn’t. And on the heels of the mess at her last job, I don’t want to be another Stan in her life.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
Rosie barks out a laugh and punches me in the shoulder. “I’m not, you dick.” She stands from the couch and bends close, her hand on my shoulder as she whispers in my ear, “And I know you’re lying.”
When I turn to face her, our lips come close. Too fucking close. I drop my gaze to her mouth and watch her tongue slide out in a slow but subtle motion. I almost stumble, rushing to stand up too. Rushing to back away from her.
Rushing to keep myself from doing something I won’t be even a little bit sorry for all over again.
“We can’t do that again,” I say.
“Oh, no?” She crosses her arms and tilts her head, twisting her lips like she’s confused. The expression is totally fake. Her hair is messy from sleep, but leave it to Rosie to not give a fuck. She could wear a paper bag and still walk around like the princess who owns the place.
“No.”
“You’re telling me you’re never going to kiss me again?” I wince as if West might have an ear pressed against the door, then I mirror her position and cross my arms as we face off. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
Her eyes narrow. “What if I ask you to?”
“No.”
“What if I beg you to?”
I can feel the flush on my cheeks and judging by the way Rosie’s gaze flies to the side, she can see it too.
“No.”
She nods, pressing her lips together as though she’s impressed by my restraint. “All right. Whatever you say, boss.”
As she slides her feet into the leather sandals, I start to panic. Because I know her all too well. She’s determined and messy. And she doesn’t back down. From her perspective, I just waved a red flag in front of her.