Page 30 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

She gingerly sat on the edge of the futon and motioned for me to join her, but I’d already made a personal vow to never sit on a futon again. Besides, if I stood, this conversation would go faster.

She clasped her hands in front of her and peered up at me. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A … what?”

“A proposition. A mutually beneficial deal of sorts.” She waved her hands back and forth between us.

I slowly raised my brows. She wasn’t suggesting …

Her cheeks turned pink. “Notthatkind of proposition.” She paused and tilted her head to the side as if considering. “Or, well, nottotallythat kind. Depends on how you look at it.”

Well, being Rosie’s next-door neighbor had been fun while it lasted—not—but clearly my reputation had taken a deep left turn I wasn’t aware of if this was what my life had come to. Not that Rosie wasn’t beautiful and intriguing. But I wasn’t that kind of guy.

“I’m not interested.” I stepped toward the door, but Rosie jumped up and grabbed my arm. The sizzle of her touch on my skin was surprising but only confirmed that I wasn’t in my right mind.

“Wait. Just listen.”

I tugged my arm away from her and kept walking to the door.

“I can get you back on your team!” she called after me.

I stopped retreating. Rosie had said the one thing that might get me to consider whatever “proposition” she had in mind.

“How?”

“People really like me. For the most part.” She tilted her head to the side. “Well, not Charlie’s fiancé, but I consider that to be a good thing. And your dad has some mixed feelings, I think, but he gives me fines when he can rather than making me go to court, which I think is positive. Lily struggles, understandably. And Max, of course, and that’s where the problem really lies.” She looked at me expectantly.

I blinked.

“The point is, online, people like me. I have a ton of social media followers. They don’t always translate to sales, unfortunately, but people like to stop by the boutique to meet me and get our picture taken. I wish people would buy more than a journal and a pen, or one of my prints—”

I cleared my throat, and she cocked her hip to the side. I could almost see her reeling her thoughts in and trying to wrangle them into submission.

“I can help you improve your image. Bring out your likeable qualities—”

“Which are?” Seeing as how we met all of two days ago, I was more than skeptical.

“We’ll figure them out together.” She held out her hand like she was spotlighting my name on a marquee. “When I’m done with you, you’ll go from being The Beast to being Gaston.”

“Wasn’t Gaston the villain?”

“Yes, but he was universally loved by their small French town.”

“Except by Belle.”

She gave me an assessing stare, as if seeing me in a new light. “You know your fairy tales.”

“Charlie had an obsession with that movie one summer.” We’d watched it nearly every day. I could probably still sing most of the songs.

I leaned against the wall, and Rosie took that as a sign to sink back onto the futon. How did she not flinch in worry every time she put weight on it? It looked identical to the one in the other apartment, only not broken. Yet.

Was I really considering letting her help me? And why in the world would she want to? Perhaps she was a sucker for lost causes. The word “proposition” still hung uneasily in the air.

“Okay, so let’s say you rebrand me as the town’s tool—”

“Loveabletool,” she said, with a decisive nod.

“And I get back on the team.” I folded my arms. “What’s in it for you? Other than getting your apartment back sooner, of course.”

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