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“Seems more like torture than sport,” Rosie snickers down at the ground while we stroll down the parade of shops. “Weird.”
“No more than eleven guys running after a soccer ball or tackling each other for a football.”
“No, not really. I guess I’m just not a sporty person.”
“But you go to the gym and work out?” I’m fully aware that being sporty and working out don’t always go hand in hand, but more often than not, they do. And I don’t want to cut our conversation short.
“It makes me feel good,” she sighs with a stiff smile pursing her lips. There’s more to this, I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and I’ve lived enough to know when someone has mental health struggles as opposed to when someone is sad.
As defensive as Rosie is, she’s got too much life to be down in the dumps or stuck in a dark rut. Her eyes have too much light burning in them and even her strained smile struggles to remain muted.
Breaking the sudden silence, she adds, “Endorphins and all that.”
“Right.”
Coming to a slow stop outside the bakery, she glances up at the lit window before backing into the alcove beside the store’s door. “This is me.”
Go figure the sweet girl would live above the Sticky Bun bakery. While Brooks cuts between us again with a chatty goodbye, I take the place in. Stepping back to admire the cute building with pink and gray trim that match the shop’s colors. Even the door leading up to her place is painted a pastel pink that glows a little peachy with the light from the lamp overhead.
“Say hi to your momma,” she tells Brooks, tapping the tip of his nose after he kisses her cheek.
As sweet as she is, there’s a wildness about her that makes me curious to dig deeper. To explore it and experience it all for myself. When she stands from her crouch, I step closer. In the alcove, she’s got nowhere to go with the door behind her still closed.
Doe eyes widen when I close the gap between us, my hands hovering over her arms while I watch her lips. I could kiss her, and I know she wouldn’t push me away. The lick of her lips, along with the sudden hitch of her breath that stiffens her body, tells me she wants it as much as I do. But instead, I trail my hand up her arm to her shoulder, brushing her hair over it slowly. The silky strands are begging to be wrapped tightly around my fingers. The tremor of her body as I inhale deeply is begging me to push her up against the door and put us both out of our misery. I want to give her what she wants—what I want—but it’s not the right time.
Pressing my lips to her cheek, I deposit a lingering kiss with one hand palming the outside of hers at her side and the other molding to the curve of her exposed shoulder. Every part of her is warm and inviting, and if I don’t force myself away, I won’t be able to resist taking more than I should.
“What was that?” Rosie sputters hoarsely as I pull away slowly, finding her fluttering stare.
“A kiss,” I say, brushing my fingertips over hers. “Not the one you want, but I’m saving that for when you ask me for it.”
An audible swallow bobs at her throat as my words seep in with her rapid blinks and shallow breaths. Perfect teeth worry over her needy lips, and I’m on the verge of grasping her hips and pulling her flush to me when Brooks asks, “Are we going home now?”
I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption. As much as I like this girl and I want her, the need for her to give herself to me is greater. I may not be much of a patient man, but I know how to run a good chase. It’s what makes me a champion racer.
Holding Brooks’s hand, I back away from Rosie, my fingers playing hers as I put distance between us.
“Ask, Angel…ask and I’ll give it to you.”
A chortle pushes past her glistening lips before she sucks in a breath with her eyes boring into mine. “In your dreams, Hotshot.”
Spinning on her heels, she pulls her keys from her purse and lets herself inside, holding my gaze while she closes the door.
The glass panes on the door, give away that she’s lingering behind it as I pick Brooks up and sit him on my shoulders.
“Night, Rosie.” I call before walking away, incapable of dropping the grin from my face.
Chapter Seven
The morning sun lights up my hallway as I grab my phone and drop my keys into my purse. My meeting with Lawson Buchanan, owner of the country club, isn’t for another hour, but I like the walk. Slipping on my sunglasses and checking my reflection in the hall mirror, I make my way down the stairs, pulling up my favorite playlist on my phone.
As I reach the front door, I see a silhouette through the glass and pause momentarily. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out who’s hovering outside. I roll my eyes with an involuntary smile, and pull open the door to find him.
“Morning, sunshine.” His aviators hide his expressive eyes, but his stance exudes a combination of arrogance and charm. Leaning against the building with one foot resting on the wall behind him, his white tee stretches across his chest, distracting me briefly. He holds out a cup for me and I hesitantly take it; the scent of fresh coffee hitting me.
“Thank you. A considerate stalker, that’s new.” I laugh softly before taking a sip, surprised that he knew my go-to drink. Maggie.
“I said I wanted to get a coffee with you. You seemed to need a little encouragement, so here I am,” he explains, the cocky grin never leaving his annoyingly attractive face.
