Page 73 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

And yet no one saw that. They’d turned my focus into villainy.

A villainy I’d leaned into after Shiloh died. It had been easier to be angry than to let anyone know I was hurting.

I’d gone too far and lost the one thing I’d always worked so hard for. So perhaps Rosie was right.

I posted the picture of me watching the game with the simple caption: I may not be on the ice, but I’m with you guys. GO PEAKS!

Immediately, Rosie hearted my post and commented: They’re lucky to have you. She then left a second comment: a kiss emoji with the number 10.

It surprised a laugh out of me, and I found if I was really quiet, I could hear Rosie humming as she worked on the painting on the other side of the wall. For the first time in months, I didn’t struggle to fall asleep.

I walked into IcyAsps for the semi-final PHL game, not surprised this time to find the restaurant completely full. The entryway was stacked with umbrellas, and I added mine to the pile. A steady rain this evening was promising to become a full downpour.

Rosie waved me over to the bar where she’d saved a seat with a folded up towel. “I had to fight off three people for this seat.”

“Thank you.” I sat gratefully. My family was probably somewhere in here, too, watching the game—most of the town seemed to be—but I wanted to be alone for this.

The big screen in the restaurant was broadcasting the pre-game talk show. The nerves that zinged through me before a game were present, even though I was nowhere near the rink. In fact, they were worse. At least when I was heading out to the ice, I had some control of the outcome.

Here, all the way in Alaska, anything could happen, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Win or lose, it was up to them.

Rosie set an ice water in front of me, and her hand brushed along my shoulders and back as she rushed onto her next table. The next time she came by, she did it again, and this time I snatched her hand and pulled her close to me.

“I was promised public kissing,” I murmured quietly to her.

Her cheeks were flushed from running around for the last fifteen minutes I’d been here, but she stepped between my legs and rested her forearms on my shoulders. Of course Rosie would match my energy. My heart rate sped up as she leaned down and put her mouth right by my ear. “You don’t think we need more practice before we make our PDA debut?”

I swallowed hard as her lips brushed my ear, the whisper of her words sending a shiver to my core. “I’m sure you’re at least a five now.”

She lightly bit my ear lobe and then pushed away from me, shaking her head with a mirthful smirk. “You’re going to get me fired.”

She raced off again, and I only saw her in spurts as she ran around taking pizza orders. Mine arrived just as the game began. It was a meat pizza, just as I liked, except someone had spelled out the number 10 in pineapple chunks on the top.

I laughed and looked around for Rosie. When she met my eyes, she gave me a wicked grin.

Just a month ago, I never thought I could be smiling, having a good time, on the night of the semi-finals of a game I wasn’t going to be at. That was the magic of Rosie.

The magic of Winterhaven.

I rearranged all the pineapples on one side of the pizza and went to town on the rest. It was only seconds to face off, and I glanced around to see who had shown up. My family was there, sitting at a table next to Shiloh’s parents. I’d run into them a few times since Hudson and I had talked last week. It wasn’t as awkward as I’d worried it would be. They’d both hugged me, and neither of them accused me of living when their son had died.

Hudson caught my eye and waved his phone at me. He’d texted me back several days ago that he didn’t know much about Rosie’s dad, but he was going to ask around discretely. I pulled out my phone.

Hudson: He’s a deadbeat. Bennett says he often left the family for months at a time to go on adventures and took off completely once their mom got sick. They haven’t seen or heard from him in over ten years.

I frowned. Why would he come back here now, after all this time?

“I have a five-minute break,” Rosie said. I stuffed my phone into my pocket as she leaned over me to grab a slice ofpineapple-filled pizza. She paused when she saw that I’d made them into a heart.

I tensed, wondering if it was too much. It wasn’t like I was confessing my love or anything, but she wasn’t moving. Maybe she just hated that I’d touched all her pineapple pieces. But when she turned to me, she smiled. “You’re a secret softie.”

I scoffed. “Lies. I’m the villain, remember?”

She stood just behind me, eating her slice, her eyes on the game. I grabbed her hips and navigated her between my legs so she could lean against me while she ate. I tried to keep my attention on the game—no one had scored yet, so it was still anyone’s win—but the soft skin of Rosie’s neck was distracting. She had her hair pulled up, something I’d only seen her do a few times before.

I blew gently against her neck and watched the fine hairs stir. She shivered, and goosebumps popped up along her skin. So I did it again. She didn’t move an inch, her eyes set on the game like it was the most riveting thing she’d ever watched.

I leaned close this time and pressed my lips to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. She caught her breath, and this time she did turn to look at me. Or, more accurately, over my shoulder.

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