Page 26 of Rose and the Grouch Next Door

"I'm not staying long."

My breath hitches. What does that even mean? My heart skips a beat.

"... done here," he continues, that rough edge of his voice cutting through the air. "Well, I'll be eager to get back home."

Home. The word hangs in the air, dark and ominous. I swallow hard, every ounce of sunshine I felt moments ago dimming. What if home means New York?

Staggering back a step, I clutch the doorframe, my mind swirling with confusion.

I feel Honeybun nudging my leg with his wet nose, snapping me back to reality. Shaking my head, trying to push away the dread pooling in my stomach. This isn't how I wanted this day to go.

"Come on, boy," I whisper. Honeybun whines softly, likely wanting to see Braxton. We make our way back toward the bedroom. Leaving isn’t what I want, but right now, I need to gather my thoughts, to get back to reality, and stop dreaming of happily ever after.

Chapter Twenty

Braxton

I hit end on my phone, my mind rebelling against my agent's last words. Tour dates, signings, endless schmoozing. I want nothing to do with any of it. The thought of leaving Sea Shanty Cove to God knows where makes me grumble under my breath. Everything I want is right here, warm and sweet-smelling beneath my sheets. Rose.

I can't shake the craving for her touch. Never have I been this caught up, this ravenous for someone. Maybe I should ask her to move in and bring that mutt with her? But, I don’t want to jump the gun and scare her off.

There's got to be a rule book on this 'too soon' business. Hell if I know what to do. How can it be too soon if I know what I want?

Eager to be next to her, I stride back toward the bedroom, eager to see her lying there, amidst my sheets. But what greets me is an empty bed. My heart trips, a cold sweat prickling at my neck.

"Rose?" No answer.

Worry knots my stomach. Today was... damn, words don't do it justice. A revelation. For both of us. Now, silence.

Maybe she’s thinking what we did was a mistake and has regrets? Or worse, maybe she’s realized I am a grumpy old asshole? My stomach churns at my paranoid thoughts.

"Dammit," I mutter, walking through the houses, hoping I’m wrong, but deep down, I know she’s not here. “Where the hell are you?”

Hoping she’s just at home taking care of Honeybun, I decide to head out my back gate to Rose’s cottage.

"Rose!" I call out, "Rose, are you there?" My knuckles rap against the door. I try the handle—locked. No answer, no sign of life inside.

Even the dog is MIA. He usually greets me with a wiggling butt, wagging his stubby tail. The silence gnaws at me.

Seeing Rose’s neighbor outside, watering her lawn, or pretending to water her lawn. Odds are she’s just being nosy about what’s happening next door.

"Have you seen Rose, Mrs. Beckett?"

She nods, waving her hand down the street. "Saw her and Honeybun heading toward the beach not too long ago."

"Thanks," I mumble, already turning towards the small path that would lead me back through my yard and to the beach.

I can't lose her. Not now, not when every cell in my body screams that she's the one.

Crossing the road, my heart thumps in my ears. Then, I see her. There she is. Relief overwhelms me.

Was I overreacting?

Rose sits on the beach, Honeybun by her side, both of them silhouetted against the sunset of the Mississippi Bay, her long, blonde curls dancing in the sea breeze. She's a vision, my vision. She’s wearing a simple tank top and cutoffs that hug her curves like they were made just for her. Her bare feet are buried inthe sand, those tiny pink toes peeking out. And that tattoo, the delicate rose vine around her ankle. So fucking sexy. It calls to me, begs for my touch.

For a heartbeat, I'm motionless, struck by her raw beauty and the unmistakable shadow of sadness on her face. Why would she be sad?

"Rose," I whisper to myself.

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