Page 61 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“Wasting paint that was paid for by the town, which is essentially stealing.”

Rosie stepped even closer to Dad, and I wanted to pull her back. Don’t get too close to the bear, or you’ll get bit.

“That’s fair,” she said. “But we didn’t waste all the paint. Just a tiny bit of it. And I can replace it.”

Dad softened as he turned to Rosie. He ran an exhausted hand down his face. “Why do you keep getting into trouble?”

I almost said something to defend her, but Rosie’s hand had sneaked into mine and she gave it a quick squeeze, which I took to mean that I should keep my mouth shut. Dad didn’t seem to notice the hand holding, but Max’s gaze had shot right to where her palm pressed stickily into mine, an unreadable expression on his face.

It would be so like Max to suddenly show an interest in Rosie just because I had. I steeled my jaw and held Rosie’s hand tighter.

That was the whole point of this deal we had, and I had to remember that. I loosened my grip, but Rosie didn’t.

“I’m too smart for my own good,” she said with a sigh. “Besides, how else would I see you now that we don’t do Sunday dinners anymore?”

To my shock, Dad let out an abrupt laugh. Once he was angry, it usually took him hours to cool down, but I just saw him melt like soft serve in the sun for Miss Rosie Forrester. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.

“There are more legal ways to see us,” he said. “Sunday dinner is an open invitation.”

“I don’t want to make Lily uncomfortable.”

They were both silent for a beat, as if acknowledging that Rosie’s presence did indeed do that.

Dad sighed as he took in the mess. “I’m going to have to fine you for this,” he said almost regretfully.

Did Rosie realize she was leaning against me as if all the air had gone out of her?

“Dad,” I said. “It’s my fault. Fine me.”

Dad turned to me as if remembering once again that I was there.

“No,” Rosie said. “You can’t have anything legal on your record while you’re trying to get back on the team.”

“Something like this isn’t a big deal.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” she argued. “Give me the fine,” she said firmly to Dad. “I can come by the station tomorrow after the cruise ship leaves.”

There was no way I was letting her take the fine. I stared at my dad, certain there was an agreement between us, and some of my tension unspooled.

Rosie, who seemed to believe she’d also come to her own agreement with Dad, nodded firmly. “Can you mention to Mrs. Savage that I’ll be coming by the station?” she asked sweetly.

Dad chuckled. “If you’re getting into trouble on purpose to get her homemade cookies—”

“You know they’re worth it,” she said.

I thought I’d reached my shock threshold, but it was breached once again when Rosie stepped forward and gave Dad a quick hug on the side of her with the least amount of paint. Dad was not a hugger. Not an “I love you-er.” Not a feelings guy at all—unless that feeling was disappointment or anger.

Dad patted her on the top of the head, the only place she didn’t have paint, his discomfort clear, but he didn’t push her away. Even with the paint.

He stepped back, but before he turned to leave, he pointed at me. “Don’t bring her down,” he said gruffly. Then he walked to his car, while I attempted to not let his words get to me. I was the villain in this situation—Gaston and Wickham—no matter how much Rosie tried to rebrand them. The one who was out of control. It made sense that he assumed I’d be the one to bring Rosie down.

But for once, couldn’t he believe the best of me? Was that even possible at this point?

“Hey, Max,” Rosie said, reminding me that we still had an interloper. I turned my back on him to continue painting the wall, wishing I’d brought my ear buds.

“Maximus,” I said, shortly. Rosie shot me a peeved look. Max ignored me completely.

“This guy bothering you?” he asked. I snorted and almost wanted Rosie to say yes. What did Max think he could do about it if I was bothering her?

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