Page 90 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“Or her artwork. It’spossiblepeople would believe that,” Gage said encouragingly as he took smaller bites of his lasagna.

“But not probable,” Bret said.

I scratched my head and swore.

“It’s only a problem if you’re not actually in love with her,” Gage said.

“Or if she’s not in love with you,” Bret said, a little too cheerily. “Is she?”

Before I could answer, I heard Rosie pad lightly down the stairs. “Dylan, you won’t believe this!” she called out. “My online store has sold more paintings this morning than I’ve ever sold. What in the world is going on?”

I looked at Gage and Bret, and they both straightened up as Rosie walked into the kitchen, her gaze down at her phone. She wore denim shorts and a black hoodie with Lizzy tucked into the pocket, except for a tiny portion of her head and ears.

“Rosie,” I said, and she looked up at me, then Bret, then Gage. “There are some people I want you to meet.”

Chapter 34

Rosie

Dylan looked happier thanI’d seen him in a while, but also … off in some way I couldn’t put my finger on. As he and his teammates lounged around the living room and chatted, it was clear he was in his element. I knew who Bret McIntire and Gage Jennings were. I’d watched every Peaks game since I’d moved to Winterhaven.

They were as big and loud as I expected. What Ihadn’texpected was to feel starstruck. I hadn’t experienced any of that with Dylan. Maybe the key when meeting someone famous was to hit them in the face straight off. That kind of adrenaline rush would stamp the embers of fan-girling straight out of a person.

I sat beside Dylan on the couch, our shoulders pressed together despite the shifting and moving on Dylan’s part. It was like he was having an allergic reaction to something and couldn’t reach the itch in his back.

“What is going on with you?” I whispered while Gage and Bret shared quips about Lizzy. Gage had picked up Lizzy and immediately began cooing at her. Love at first sight, as was natural.

“Nothing,” he said, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“He made a video,” Bret said, unabashedly listening to our whispered conversation. “About your store.”

“You did?” I turned more fully toward Dylan.

“This morning,” Bret continued, despite the glare Dylan was casting his way.

“I haven’t seen it,” I said. “That’s probably why my sales are up.” It made total sense. “That was really sweet. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, relaxing a little. Maybe he’d been worried I’d be upset he’d gotten in my business. As an independent woman who owned her own business, I was definitely not offended by positive, free advertising that was making an impact in my sales. Not ever—but especially not when I was drifting in a financial black hole. Or supporting one.

But I did not want to think of my dad.

“You should watch it,” Bret said, his eyes gleaming.

My curiosity pinged, especially when Dylan shook his head quickly. “I’ll watch it later,” I said. Dylan seemed to relax a bit more then.

The guys all talked about their last game, wanting to break down every single play. My brothers would be in heaven if they were here, but all this hockey minutia was a little boring to me. Some of the star-studdedness wore off the more I compared them to my brothers. They didn’t have the same personalities as Haydn, Bennett, or Jules, but their enthusiasm for dissecting a hat trick did.

Well, theymostlyreminded me of my brothers. No matter how much I tried to convince my brain to think of Dylan as a brother, it just wasn’t cooperating.

I ended up excusing myself to go take care of the orders that were coming in. The art needed to be located in the garage, packed up, have the postage calculated and printed out, and then I needed to update my website. I got through most of myorders, and didn’t realize how much time had passed until Dylan brought me a sandwich and drink.

“I’m going to take the guys around town. Want to come?”

I checked my watch. “I’d love to, but I’ve got to finish up a few more orders and be at work in about an hour.”

“Are you guys showing the PHL finals tonight?”

“Yeah.”

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