Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(78)

“Kid, you have no idea. I’ve got my World’s Best Grandpa T-shirt on under this button down.”

“You do not.”

“I do.” He grins and lifts his shirt to unveil the tee that Willa bought him when her daughter was born.

“I told him he was coming on a little strong and needed to cover it up until we got a feel for Cora.”

My gaze bounces between my parents. I can feel the excited energy wafting off of them. And truth be told, I’m not sure how Cora will react to their presence—to their enthusiasm. They’re a lot to take in sometimes. I’ve overheard her conversation with her mom. They’re calm and mature, and there’s no mention of peeing after sex or only fucking guys who read.

“Okay, listen. We need to lay down some ground rules first.” I tug the door closer in behind me and watch my mom’s eyes widen as my dad’s roll.

“She has a mom, and she has a dad. Just because they’re not here doesn’t mean you can barge in and act like we’re some sort of replacement family. If she wants to call you by your first names, deal with it.”

My dad nods and my mom smiles.

“I also don’t want to hear a single word about that time a woman made up a paternity story to scam you. It’s in the past and has no bearing on Cora. Talking about that will just make her uncomfortable.”

I’m met with murmured responses of “Yes” and “Of course.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “And just… be cool. Okay?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” My dad salutes me and I go back to glaring at him. “Any further directives?”

“Yes, Dad. She likes music, but please don’t spend the entire time talking about your washed-up band. No one enjoys that as much as you do.”

He chuckles, pinching my cheek like he did when I was a boy and forcing me to turn away while tamping down a smile. “You’re a mouthy little shithead, you know that?” he adds, breezing past me. And only now do I notice he has a guitar case in hand.

My mom passes next, patting me on the chest. “It’s adorable to see you so paternal. Whatever role you plan to play in her life, she’s lucky to have you.”

I turn and watch my parents waltz into my house, marveling at the updates and discussing their favorite touches. They don’t notice Cora observing them from the landing on the stairs. I can see her clearly—peering from around the corner. Our eyes meet and she gives me a tentative smile. A subtle tilt of her head.

I wink back at her, tipping my chin toward my parents.

Which is all it takes for her to come all the way downstairs and bravely announce herself. “Hi, I’m Cora.”

They both turn to take her in and much like Willa, they stop for a moment, eyes wide, mouths dropped open. I guess we do kind of look like each other.

“Hi, Cora. I’m Gemma,” my mom rushes out, stepping closer with a friendly smile.

“And I’m?—”

“Ford Grant Senior. Guitarist from Full Stop.”

His lips twitch as Cora’s eyes drop to the guitar case at his side.

“You still know how to play that?” I cover my mouth with my fist to keep from laughing.

He scoffs at her question. “Of course. But do you?”

Her eyes go comically wide as she shakes her head. I close the door and walk into the open living space to stand near my dad.

“Thought it might be fun to show you. Taught Willa myself too.”

“You’re going to let me play your guitar?”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Why not?”

“I just… that feels like it belongs in a museum or something.”

I lean close, give him a nudge with my elbow and stage whisper, “She means because you’re old.”

“No,” Cora says almost breathlessly. “I mean because that guitar is iconic.”

Dad turns an obnoxiously pleased smirk in my direction. “Ah, Cora. You and I are going to get along famously. I bet even my World’s Best Grandpa T-shirt won’t lose me cool points.”

A starstruck laugh bubbles up from her throat as my dad pats her on the back and leads her into the living room.

That expression doesn’t leave her face all day long. In fact, it only intensifies when she learns a simple tune and my dad gifts her a pick.

I wish Rosie were here to see her.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


ROSIE





The first thing I did when Ford took his parents over to his house was pee. And then proceeded to laugh hysterically into my palms while sitting on the toilet.

Only me.

Only Rosalie-the-hot-mess would get railed by her life long frenemy and new boss and then get walked in on by his parents.

If I weren’t so amused by the whole clusterfuck, I’d want to lie down and die of embarrassment. But as it stands, I’m kind of invested in seeing how this all plays out.

Call it a morbid sense of curiosity.

I re-create our moment of insanity in my head as I wander back to my place in a happy sex daze. In the shower, I close my eyes and pretend my hands are his, roaming my body.

The way he switched from hard and domineering to soft and worshipful gave me the best kind of whiplash. My body aches with the memory of him.

When I step out, I apply body lotion and murmur his words back to myself.