Page 62 of My Silver Lining

I spent the next twenty minutes telling him the meaning behind the new “Forever” bracelet. It was all about loving yourself and being okay in your own skin. Because when you start loving yourself, you allow others to do the same.

He listened intently, as if my words mattered.

My ideas mattered.

Rafe Chadwick was more than just a sexy, charming man. He was a good man. A kind man. And I would be lucky to call him my friend.

We realized the day had gotten away from us, and I set up a makeup area in the room at the desk so he could take a shower. I was not going to cross that line again, even though he’d made several jokes about me joining him.

Things had shifted between us, and I liked him. I felt close to him in a way I couldn’t even begin to explain. This crazy situation that had brought us together, connected us in a way.

Which meant I needed to be careful.

I curled my hair before pulling it into a low chignon at the nape of my neck and applying my makeup. I did dramatic eyeliner and a smoky eye.

I wanted to make him proud to have me on his arm tonight.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real, he’d shown up for me when I needed him, and I intended to do the same.

He came out of the bathroom looking like he’d just stepped off a photo shoot forPeople Magazine’s“Sexiest Man Alive” edition.

He sat on the edge of the bed tying his shoes, and I tried not to stare.

His jaw was chiseled, and his hair was gelled tonight into a sleek style that worked with the fitted slim-cut suit.

“Henley and Easton sent us a screenshot of theTaylor Tea. Would you like me to read it to you?” His voice was all tease.

I applied my lipstick and moved to my feet to slip into my dress. “Ohhhh, yes, please. I’ll get dressed in the bathroom and leave the door open so I can hear you.”

“I’ve seen you naked. Just get dressed out here, and I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” he said, shaking his head as he stared down at his screen and then peeked up at me to see if I’d listened.

“Fine, you big baby. If seeing me in my bra and panties does it for you, have at it.” I tugged my dress from the hanger and dropped my robe before shimmying into the satin fitted dress.

He didn’t take his eyes off me as I did so, and once I pulled it up, he pushed to his feet and moved behind me, pulling up the zipper. His fingers trailed up my skin, and my body heated at the slight touch. He moved back to the bed and turned his attention to the phone.

“Okay, here we go.” He cleared his throat. “Good Morning, Roses. Looks like our scoop this week is public knowledge, so we’ll just share what we know. Our latest resident, the wealthy socialite bombshell who moved to town recently, is in a relationship with one of our local favorites. He’s the boisterous one, and let’s just say he’s not only good with the numbers, but he’s good with the ladies, too,” he said with a groan. “My God, they may as well just say our names.”

“I love that I’m the socialite bombshell.” I waggled my brows as I slipped my feet into the gorgeous red, strappy stilettos I saved for a special occasion. “Please continue.”

“Looks like the rock star ex-boyfriend is sharing his broken heart with the world. But I’m not buying it. The rock star has been seen one too many times with other women to earn any form of sympathy from me. I’d go with the charming local guy we all know and love. The famous rock star may be loved by America, but in Rosewood River, we don’t care for all that drama. Time will tell. I think this rose might get prickly with two suitors vying for her heart.”

My head fell back in laughter. “Wow. She just tells us exactly how she feels.”

“Without saying actual names, even though everyone knows exactly who she’s talking about.”

“Who do you think is the author?” I asked him as his eyes perused me from head to toe.

“You look stunning, Wildcat.” He cleared his throat. “You know, I’m not sure. Bridger is certain that it’s Emilia Taylor. But I just can’t picture her writing this.”

“She’s a florist, and she’s so sweet. I don’t see that either. Why does he think it’s her?”

“Who knows, with Bridger? Once he gets something in his head, he can’t get it out. Her family owns the paper. She’s young enough to be writing this kind of crap…” he said.

“Hey. She just wrote about us, and she was rooting for us. That was not crap.”

Loud laughter bellowed from him, and he pushed to his feet. “Fine. Whatever it is. Gossip. It feels like it’s someone young.”

“Could it be Laney Waters?” I asked. Her parents owned Rosewood Brew Coffee, and she worked there when she wasn’t in school. “Every time I see her at the coffee shop, she brings up theTaylor Tea.”

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