Page 52 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

She’d backed away so quickly, I felt the breeze of her movement on my skin.

She giggled nervously behind the hand she’d thrown over her mouth, so cutely, I couldn’t even feel rejected. Until she pulled her hand down and spoke, that is.

“I’m so lucky you’re here to help me. Like one of my brothers, you know. Just like a brother,” she repeated, as if I hadn’t heard her the first time.

In no world was this pull between us sibling-like. I leaned a little closer to her and watched her eyes flare with heat, then kept reaching past her to grab the corner of the mattress. “Where did you want the bed?” I asked casually.

“Just against this bare wall,” she said, her tone chipper and breezy. “Thank you.”

Once I finished she all but pushed me from the room and down the hall. Her hands didn’t actually touch my back, but they might as well have, for as effectively as she ushered me out of the doorway and into the hall. “I’ve got to lock the downstairs door,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

I turned quickly to tell her that I’d do it, not realizing how close she was to me and that I was boxing her between me and the closed door.

Before she could bank it, a spark of desire flashed across her face, hot and immediate. That wasnotthe look of a person thinking sisterly thoughts.

I listened to the devilish voice in my head urging me to lean forward, to test how far these non-sisterly thoughts went. “For the record,” I whispered, my words stirring the tiny hairs aroundher ears, “I likeallthe sides of Rosie and don’t find a single one of them predictable.”

Her breath caught, and I smiled in satisfaction as I turned and went back into my apartment, feeling her gaze on me the entire time.

Chapter 20

Rosie

Catacles the Mermaid neededa friend.

I sat in front of my mural and stared at it while Lizzy curled in my lap. On the other side of the wall, I could hear Dylan talking on the phone but couldn’t make out what he was saying. It was comforting, in a way. I was used to the steady sounds of the ocean—the waves against my boat, the sound of people pulling in, talking to each other, walking on the dock. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sounds of people until Dylan moved in.

My like-a-brother, Dylan. Sure, he made my heart race, but that was just basic biology. Nothing to get all riled up over.

Except, if I thought too long about how he’d stared at my mural … then I’d be inrealtrouble of developing a crush.

Dylan was arguing with someone, which provided the perfect distraction. Louder than before, I heard him say, “Fine, Bret,” sounding exasperated. And then he started to sing. Horribly. I couldn’t even tell what song it was, and not because the sound was muffled through the wall.

“It’s a good thing he’s hot and can play hockey,” I whispered to Lizzy. “Because he’s not winning anyone over with that voice.”

Lizzy purred in agreement. I’d never met a more snuggly cat. She was still tiny, but she’d grown a bit since I’d found her.

“I’m. Not. Singing,” Dylan said firmly, and I raised my hands in solidarity and silently cheered. “Text me your other ideas.”

I scratched Lizzy’s neck as I considered the masquerade scene, her purr rumbling through me. What about a red octopus dressed like a princess, with pink shoes on the end of four tentacles? And an orange crown made of happy starfish. As soon as the idea hit me, I raced to get my paint ready.

I needed to work on paintings for my shop, especially since next week was packed with cruise ships coming in. Now that the weather was optimal, we’d be getting multiple cruise ships into port nearly every day. I needed more inventory, including smaller paintings, since those sold so well. I also needed to update my sticker selection.

Instead, I found myself here in front of this wall, attempting to process my life.

In a short amount of time, I went from living alone to having a next-door neighbor. From being single to being in a fake relationship. From not touching a guy more than just casually in over a year, to sitting in Dylan Savage’s lap and holding his hand and leaning against his arm and being pressed against the door with his lips near my ear … Andlikingit. A lot. My heart skipped up and around and over and under, and all the ways it could merrily hop about in my chest.

What was wrong with me? I wasn’t starved for male attention. Plus, I was in love with Max. Dylan showed up here with his bare chest and strong, can-lift-me-easily arms and it was confusing me. I groaned and dropped my head on the wall.

“You okay over there?” Dylan asked, his voice close to the wall.

I let out a shriek and nearly dropped my paint palette. Holy Hannah, I hadn’t realized he could hear me so well. But of course he could. I could hear him singing, or whatever that was.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound as fine as possible. It wasn’t like he could read my thoughts and know I’d just been picturing what those abs might have looked like in the moment he lifted me from my chair.

“Sounds like you hurt yourself,” he replied, his voice quieter, but somehow clearer. He must have moved even closer to the wall.

“I was just trying to bang some sense into my head.”

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