Page 3 of Bottle Rocket
She glanced around. Everyone was staring at her.Everyone. Including the nude man in the middle of the room, who also happened to be … her first? What did you call the adult version of the teenager you lost your heart to over a decade ago?
A walking naked nightmare, that’s what.
Fuck, she’d never expected to see him again. Fuck.
Dean rushed over. “Are you okay?”
She nodded too vehemently. “Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m in the wrong class. I thought I’d be painting a fruit basket.”
Dean laughed softly. “No worries. This must be a shock. That class is tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t remember where she’d put her purse. Had she brought a purse?
“You’re welcome to stay if you’re comfortable. I can talk you through beginner techniques.”
Rosie chanced a peek at the middle of the room. Leo Whittaker—her first boyfriend and now community center nude model—seemed just as stricken.
“No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I know the model. Hi.” She waved at Leo. He didn’t move. “So, yep, this has officially hit my limit on the awkwardness scale.”
Dean turned to Leo in surprise. The whole class was watching the exchange like it was a tetherball match. Leo slowly shrugged back into the silk robe, covering himself up.
“Rosie?” Leo’s voice was rougher than she remembered. Hardened and smoky. It sent a shiver down her spine. He stood up. His presence was overwhelming. He wasn’t a tall man, but he had charisma. Even in a silk robe and bare feet, he was imposing.
She felt naked, which was absurd. She wasn’t the one who had exposed her body to a room full of artists, but she felt as if everyone could see all the messed up bits inside her.
“Yeah. Hi. Okay. I’m going to go.”
Every attempt at finding a hobby, connection, and passion had been a dud, but none of them had been inherently embarrassing. Shit like this didn’t happen to her. She was controlled and reserved and honestly a bit boring. Her siblings were going to have a field day if they found out about this.
She spun on her heels and took off.
“Rosie, wait. Hold—” Leo’s voice cut off as the door closed behind her.
Leo Whittaker had run off to California thirteen years ago, leaving her behind. Damn. What was he doing back in town?
Her mind swirled as she strode down the hallway. At eighteen, Leo had been a bad boy. He’d shot potato cannons on the golf course. He’d stolen smokes from his mom. He’d hot-boxed with his friends. He’d done everything in his power to rebel against the high-class expectations of his very wealthy family, including running around with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. But he hadn’t looked like a bad boy back then.
Helookedlike a bad boy now.
“Rosie Holiday!”
Leo’s voice pulled her up short, as did his use of her maiden name. She’d legally changed her name back after her divorce, but it sometimes surprised her when she heard it. She spun to face him. He was standing there in bare feet, the robe wrapped tightly around him. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her. He grinned and jogged to catch up with her.
As soon as he was within a few feet, she said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I embarrassed you. I was not prepared for that.”
“I wasn’t prepared for you either.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, a thick, unnamed emotion in her voice.
“I’m friends with Dean and owed him a favor.”
“Wow. Big favor.”
“Glad you noticed.”
She laughed again and touched her forehead. Her hands were shaking. “There is not a single friend for whom I’d drop trou in a room full of strangers.”
“Nakedness doesn’t bother me.” He gifted her his trademark ornery smile.
