Page 40 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

He could lift you,Charlie whispered tauntingly.

Shut it, Charlie.

I hopped off his lap like I’d never been there. I grabbed a rag from the counter and cleaned up the spill, and then held out a hand to help him Dylan out of the chair.

“I don’t know why you keep thinking you’re strong enough to help me up,” he grumbled, ignoring my hand and standing.

Offended, I put my hands on my hips. “It’s a friendly gesture. It’s not like I think you’re going to be dead weight I’m hauling up.”

“It’s more likely that I’ll pull you down on top of me than you’ll successfully help me up.” He snagged his hoodie from where he’d set it on an empty chair and followed a step behind me as we left the restaurant. The streets of Winterhaven were less busy than usual for a summer night, with only a handful of people out exercising or visiting the shops still open for another hour.

The sky was overcast, and a slight drizzle fell onto our shoulders. I shivered, and Dylan offered me his navy Peaks hoodie.

I put it on gratefully, and inhaled the scent of him, only this time with less triple berry. His cologne smelled like an expensive kind. I pulled the hood up around my head.

We walked home much slower than we had to the restaurant, even with the drizzle. It would pass soon, or it wouldn’t. But if we let inclement weather stop our activities in Winterhaven, we’d never leave home.

“I’ve told you about me.” His hands were stuffed in his pockets, the only indication he might be chilled. “What should I know about you?”

I didn’t quite know where to start. Should I go straight into trauma dumping with my family history? Keep it light and fun? Or my favorite, a spicy mix of both.

“I’m a pseudo-orphan.” Always an attention getter, that line. From the way his entire body ceased moving, it had worked with him too.

He blinked. “I’m sorry? What does that mean?”

“My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad took off right after.”

“That sucks, Rosie.”

I shrugged. “I have three protective older brothers, which is like havingthreefathers. Feel sorry for me aboutthat.” Guilt tapped me on the shoulder, reminding me about Dad in the houseboat, but that had to stay a secret.

“Sounds like an interesting childhood.” He was so serious, I bumped playfully into his side to put him at ease.

“Oh, and I’ve been arrested four times. By your dad.”

Dylan winced.

Whoops. I’d meant to make him laugh, but I’d forgotten their relationship was weird.

“Not handcuffs arrested. Just, ‘come to the station with me’ arrested. I like to paint, scheme, rope my friends into my schemes, and I have a wild imagination. I hate lemonade, any songs played at weddings, and bottomless chairs, which is a recently acquired hate, if you’re wondering.”

His expression did not appear wondering, which was good. The bottomless chair story was not one I wanted to retell any time soon.

“And I’m madly in love with Max Eriksson,” I finished.

“So, he calls you Josie?” he asked, looking at me sideways.

I waved my hand like it was nothing. “Inside joke. Tell me about hockey,” I said, mostly to see if I could get him talking on a subject he was comfortable with.

He answered hesitantly, and I had follow-up questions ready about stats and sticks and legendary players. As long as he was talking about hockey, he seemed to relax and breathe normally. Which meant I could relax.

I really enjoyed talking to him once his walls cracked open. He wasn’t letting me in, not even close, but it was something. And I liked this something. A lot.

Getting the internet masses to like Dylan was going to be a piece of cake.

Getting Max to actually fall for me? That might take a miracle.

Chapter 17

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