Page 19 of Dear Rosie

“You catering?” I ask, hardly hiding my excitement.

If she’s with the caterer, then she’s not Hannah’s friend.

And she’s fair game.

The woman nods, also looking down at herself, like she forgot what she was wearing.

Her apron is tied tightly around her waist, causing it to pull snugly across her tits. And her tits match her ass. I want to take a fucking nap on them.

Maybe she’d be willing to take off everything… but the apron.

Her cheeks are pink when she looks back up at me, and I work to school my features.

“So…” I lift my brows. “Need help in the kitchen, or should I go find Maddox?”

She swallows, and I find myself leaning toward her, anxious to hear her speak.

“He’s not home yet.” Her voice is quiet, a little soft, and I need to find a way to make her say my name. “You can?—”

The doorbell rings, and my little redhead startles so badly that she lets out a squeak of surprise.

I bite down on a laugh as I reach out and lightly grip her upper arm. “My apologies for ringing the doorbell twice. That’s loud as hell.”

She looks up at me, and I wish I could read her expression.

It’s alarm and something that looks like… sadness—but probably isn’t.

Poor girl is overwhelmed.

“I need to get that,” she whispers, keeping her gaze averted from mine.

My hold on her arm is loose, so when she steps away, my hand falls back to my side.

She moves to open the door for the newcomer.

She’s not exactly short, maybe five foot five, but she’s short compared to me.

I’m not the tallest dude I know, but at six foot three, I’m taller than most wide receivers. And even though my playing days are over, and I can’t run like I used to, and I don’t work out as much as I used to, I still stand up straighter and pull my shoulders back before the girl without a name turns back around.

A stranger follows her into the house, and I step to the side to make room for them.

“Hannah asked me to have you wait in the living room, if that’s okay.” The caterer tells the other woman. She starts to walk past me before she pauses. “You can, uh, come with.”

Nate.

Just say my name, Beautiful. Let me hear it on your lips.

I dip my chin and hold my arm out, gesturing for them to go ahead.

The stranger gives me a smile, a nod, and a once-over before she follows the caterer down the hall.

Following, I run a hand through my hair. I could probably use a haircut, but I’ve kind of enjoyed the shaggy look. And, based on the perusal I just got, the style is working for me.

I slow my steps, and when the women turn toward the living room, I veer off toward the kitchen.

“Smells good,” I state as I stop in front of the island currently covered in food.

The girl on the other side of the counter snaps her head up at the sound of my voice.

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