Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(60)

“Silent treatment. Very original. Well, in that case, should I set you up in the back? I could scrounge you up an old Playboy? I bet West has one kicking around. Or there are websites now where anything you want is at your fingertips.”

Maybe she’ll stop talking if I don’t engage.

From the corner of my eye, I see her lean back in her desk chair. I don’t need a full view of her face to know she’s getting a real kick out of this.

“Did you like my journal entry?”

I point the pen in her direction but say nothing and keep my eyes fixed on my computer. Then I go back to chewing on it and ignoring her entirely.

But Rosie isn’t having it. Her boots click against the floor. She comes all the way around my desk and leans against the edge, facing me.

Today’s Rosie differs from yesterday’s version.

Yesterday, she seemed distraught over me going to an event with a plus one. It was obvious to me that it would be her. Who the hell else would I take? Did she think I’d kiss her and run off with someone else?

Because no, I’d kiss her and get all up in my head over it.

Torment myself. That’s far more on brand for me.

I lean back in my chair, pen in my mouth, and regard her. No, today she seems hell-bent on torturing me.

“You’re being weird,” she says.

“Rich coming from you.”

She crosses her arms and smirks, edging farther over until she’s in front of me and I can’t avoid her gaze.

“Did you ever lose that pesky V-card, Ford?”

I swallow. “I did, Rosalie. I appreciate your concern.”

“To who? You know some of my dating history. Now I want to know about yours.”

“I don’t talk to my employees about my personal life.”

“I’m not asking as your employee.” After the words fly from her lips, we’re left staring at each other once again.

Then she pushes my keyboard back, props her hands on the desk, and slides herself on it like she’s settling in for story time.

She winces again, cheeks twitching in a pained grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

“My body likes to warn me about my impending cycle by giving me the kind of cramps that could keep me in bed all day. Your mom said orgasms can also help with that.”

I chew on my pen and zero in on the hem of her dress, the way it drapes so daintily over her crossed legs. I roll my chair back to create some distance.

“You should go home and rest, then.”

She laughs and waves me off. “I’ll give myself a hand later and see if it helps. But for now, I want to talk about you.”

“Bash is going to walk in and wonder why you’re sitting on my desk.”

Her head tilts. “I thought you were checking your emails—he got called away for a fire. He’s sending a painter to finish up the interior and will confirm a date and time. Now tell me about your dating history.”

I cross my free arm to keep from reaching out and playing with that flimsy fucking hemline, pen tapping against my lips.

“I remember the night in that journal entry. I asked that girl if she was reading anything interesting. She told me she wasn’t a big reader.”

Rosie’s eyes twinkle with mirth. She knows.

“And I believe I scoffed and said, ‘Figures,’ to which she gave me a dirty look and walked away.”

“Your mom once told me that if I went home with a guy and there weren’t any books at his house, I shouldn’t fuck him.”

I chuckle at that. “She’s told me the same thing.” I shake my head as I think about my mom. The advice she gives is outlandish and direct and… not wrong. “That night, when you drove us home, I asked you what you were reading.”

Her eyes widen with interest. “I don’t remember that part.”

“You told me about a five-book fantasy romance series you were reading in very over-the-top detail. I pretended I was annoyed. But I went and put it on hold at the library as soon as we got back to the city.”

Now her lips pop open. “Please tell me it was the Fever Series.”

My mouth twists in a wry grin, and I push my wheeled chair closer. An invisible pull between us. “It was.”

“Did you love it?”

I think back on reading those books. I mostly imagined Rosie reading them. Remembered the way her hands motioned as she drove and talked. West had passed out in the back seat, and I kept having to remind her to keep her hands at ten and two.

Her response was to roll her eyes and steer on the straight highway with her knee.

“Yeah, Rosie. I loved it.”

“Oh. Back to Rosie, huh?”

“You said you weren’t my employee right now.”

I reach forward and flick a finger against her top knee. I don’t know why I do it. It’s childish and unnecessary and yet I can’t stop myself.

Her eyes trace the motion, and then I smooth the spot with my hand before losing my brain entirely as I stand, grip her knee, and uncross her legs myself.

She sucks in a breath but otherwise forges ahead like nothing has changed.

“Okay. So, spill the beans.” She leans forward a bit, her thighs falling open as she draws closer, her knuckles almost white on the edge of my desk.

I consider her question and nervously toy with the hem of her dress as I step closer. “I met a girl in my second year of college. She was smart and kind, and we had a good time together. I think we dated for two years.”