Page 37 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

Dad slowly stood as well, and it felt like a face-off on the ice. One of us would need to make the first move, but unlike a hockey game, neither of us seemed inclined to do so. The last time we’d seen each other was crystal in my memory. Dad yelling at me that I’d ruined the family. Me throwing a punch. Mom’s upset, teary face as she screamed for us both to stop. I’d stormed out and hadn’t seen them since.

“It’s good to see you, Dylan.” Mom took another hesitant step forward. It hadn’t always been like this—the caution, the insurmountable walls.

“You too,” I replied, even though I wanted to ask, then why didn’t you ever come visit me? Why did I have to come home to see my family again?

No, I’d stopped caring about that a long time ago.

“Dylan,” Dad said with a nod, his voice low and gruff. “Still on for dinner Sunday?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t look directly at him, so I stared at a spot over his shoulder. Every part of me was tense. The anger wasn’t there anymore—that had long faded—but the hurt and regret remained.

“You’re here!” Rosie exclaimed with excitement as if she hadn’t walked into the restaurant with me less than a minute earlier. She wrapped her arm around mine, and I tore my gaze away from my parents to look down at her, relief filling me. Rosie’s presence was like an ice pack on an angry bruise. “I’ve got a table over here for you.” She turned to my parents, and I gave into the urge to tuck my arm firmly around her waist and pull her into to my side like a shield.

Her thoughts seemed derailed by my unexpected move. Her hair brushed my chin as she looked up at me and took in way too much. One of her dimples showed as she gave me an encouraging smile.

She turned her attention back to my parents, but her grip on my waist tightened. “I’m sorry to steal him, but Dylan promised to help me with something.”

I nodded. I would snuggle her undead cat if it meant getting me out of this situation.

Dad observed us way too closely for comfort as Rosie tugged me past them to the opposite side of the restaurant. He probably had questions about how Rosie and I were already so close when we’d just met—questions I definitely did not want to answer. I waved again at Mom, whose eyes looked suspiciously wet. I stopped walking, wondering if I should fight the awkward and just hug her, but she’d sat back down, and the time had passed.

Where I sat, I was hidden from their view but could still see the game clearly on the screen. Rosie leaned close enough for me to smell the fresh scent of coconut shampoo as her ponytail tickled my ear. “I’ve got to work, but I’ll take my break in about an hour. What kind of pizza do you want?”

“Whatever your favorite is,” I said, feeling more shell-shocked than I expected. My expression must have given me away, because Rosie paused with her face inches from mine. Her gaze roved over me in a way that made me feel uncomfortably seen.

“The worst is over,” she whispered.

I tried to get my footing again, my senses all over the place. Between Rosie’s closeness and the run-in with my family, my internal compass didn’t know north from south. “Are you nurturing me, Rosie?” I murmured.

Her concern was gone in a flash, replaced by a saucy smile. “I’m trying to start rumors. I think it’s working.” She ruffled my hair and took off, and I realized that most of the restaurant was watching us. I smoothed out my hair, wishing I could ignore how good it had felt to have her fingers against my scalp.

It was a playful move, bro. Don’t make it a thing.

I found my attention torn between watching the Peaks kill it at yet another game, taking us one step closer to the championship, and watching Rosie flit around the restaurant like a busy bee. She remembered everyone’s names, and often their usual orders too.

When she dropped my pizza off—it was pepperoni and pineapple; of course she was a psychopath who liked fruit on her pizza—she took a huge bite out of a slice and informed me that I should be taking pictures for social media.

The levels of ridiculousness I felt taking a picture of the pizza, the game, the restaurant, and a selfie of me eating the pizza could not be understated.

The restaurant remained busy during the game, and then people started to trickle out one by one, and still I stayed. I never watched our post-game analysis, and it was interesting to hear what they had to say. A lot of their discussion was spent on how the Peaks did without me and Shiloh there.

“While his team is playing for their lives, Beast is cuddled up with a romance novel. I don’t know what to make of this,” one commentator said, as the photo from my social media flashed on the screen.

“Our sources have told us that he’s not allowed at the arena until after the playoffs,” the other man said. “What else is he supposed to be doing? Maybe a good, relaxing vacation is exactly what he needs.”

Rosie snatched the slice of pizza she’d been working on for most of the night and finished it off with a grin and a wave as she dashed past me again.

Relaxing. Right. Something told me that aligning myself with Rosie Forrester would be the least relaxing thing I’d ever done.

Chapter 16

Rosie

I collapsed onto thewooden chair next to Dylan, surprised to see him still at the restaurant. I thought he’d skip out as soon as the game ended, but it had been over for almost an hour.

He slid a plate with a slice of pizza toward me. The slice had been piled with an entire pizza’s worth of pineapple. I snort-laughed. Okay, he could be playful sometimes. That was hopeful.

I stared him straight in the eye and took a huge bite of the pizza slice. Not bad. It was at least fifty percent pineapple and cold, but I might have found a new favorite.

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