Page 97 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

“What and what?” Haydn asked Bennett as they headed toward the door.

I stuck my rag in the wash and undid my apron, then grabbed my bag and waved goodbye to everyone as I left. The sun had gone down enough for it to be near twilight as I searched through my purse for my truck keys. The sound of someone clearing their throat made me shriek and hold my keys out like a weapon.

“Whoa, Rosie. It’s me.” Max stood several feet back with a chagrined expression. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, Max.” I let out a long breath. “I almost took your eyes out.” I jabbed the keys forward a few times to demonstrate when suddenly it clicked. “Wait, what did you call me?”

He winced. “Rosie. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I had your name wrong this whole time. I’ve always been really terrible with names, but the fact that no one corrected me until Dylan—”

“Dylan?” I took a step closer to Max.

“Yeah.” Max rubbed the back of his neck. “He had a lot of really nice things to say about you. And it got me thinking.”

“What did he say?” I bounced from foot to foot, eager to finish this conversation and get back to the Savage’s house to see Dylan. But I could spare a minute to hear some nice things.

“Uh, Dylan? He said you were pretty fantastic, honestly. And he’s right.” Max’s focus on me stilled my movement. “You’ve been right here in front of me this whole time, and I didn’t even see it.”

“Um, what?” He was saying words, but they didn’t mean anything.

Max smiled shyly. “Rosie. If you and Dylan aren’t exclusive, I’d like to get dinner with you this week? I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Like a train coming to a halt on the tracks, my every thought screeched to a total stop. Max Eriksson wanted to get dinner with me. I should be jumping for joy while angels sang in a chorus behind me and fireworks went off over the bay.

But I couldn’t even get an uptick in my heartbeat.

It was that dang kiss. I wished Dylan were here so I could glare at him—and then just keep staring at him, because Dylan was not hard on the eyes, that was for sure.

This was it. My chance. My fairy-tale moment.

And yet, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I’m in love with Dylan,” I blurted out. I hadn’t seen it coming. And it was very unclear if he loved me back (or just my artwork). But when I stopped trying to fit my round feelings into the square Max, everything clicked perfectly. Me and Dylan. He was everything. Funny. Intense. Stunningly attractive. And he knewmy name from day one. The bar wasn’t that low, but it was still a bar, dang it. “I don’t know if he’ll leave the island or stay or what the logistics will be, but I love him. A whole lot.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his cheeks pink “My sister said I’d regret not going for it, but I regret going for it.” He looked over his shoulder like he wished he could take off but was too polite to do so.

I startled us both with a quick laugh. “Max, I thought you never even noticed me.”

“I didn’t at first.” He shook his head. “It’s the strangest thing. All of a sudden, you were there in a way I’d never seen you before. I’m kicking myself for not really seeing you sooner.”

My plan had worked. Of course it had. But it wasn’t as exciting or satisfying as I’d thought it would be. Not when it took another guy pretending to be interested in me for Max to finally take notice.

“But I still have something I’d like to talk to you about. If we can get past this awkwardness. A business idea.” He looked so uncomfortable, I felt almost bad for him. I only had to remember that he called me Josie for the last couple of years to feel less bad.

I was intrigued, though. “I’m a professional at getting past awkwardness,” I assured him.

He shifted on his feet but stopped looking like he was one second from bolting. “People love your painting in the local authors section. I keep getting offers to purchase it. It got me thinking. What if I sold some of your art in my bookstore? We could work out the terms and agreements, but it would give you a physical place to sell while your shop is getting fixed.”

“Are you serious?”Nowmy heart was racing. “But you hate my artwork.”

He gaped at me. “No, I don’t. Why would you think that?”

“Because you were so dismissive when I gave you that painting.”

“Oh.” He blew out a long breath. “I never know how to react when someone gives me something. I was trying to play it cool. I probably played it too cool. My sister is always getting on me for that. It’s much easier for me to have conversations about books than to talk about pretty much anything else.”

“You’re doing okay now.”

“We’re talking about my bookstore, which is book adjacent.” He kicked at the dirt and then took a step back. “Think about it, okay? No rush. If you’re interested, come by the store and we’ll chat terms.” He paused and pulled out a thousand page book he’d been holding behind his back. “Oh! I almost forgot. I brought this for you.”

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