Page 6 of Bottle Rocket
Sasha:ROSIE!
Sasha:Do you have a date? An obscenely early morning date?
Sasha:OMG
Rosie smiled. When Sasha was excited, she texted in hurried spurts. Rosie had no idea if it was a date, but she hadn’t been this thrilled over the possibility of a date, or what a date could lead to, in years. Rosie didn’t have time to respond before Sasha hit her with another flurry of messages.
Sasha:I’ll be there in thirty.
Sasha:Lube!
Sasha:I have samples of our new lube.
Sasha:I’m bringing some.
Sasha:Just in case. It’s good lube.
Sasha:TRUST. ME.
Sasha:Summer of Rosie Needing Good Lube
Rosie laughed helplessly. She loved her sister, but seeing the words made the possibility of her “needing good lube” seem ridiculous. She didn’t want to get her hopes up.
Rosie:Not a date.
Rosie:But bring the lube.
Chapter Two
Leo found Rosie easily enough.She was sitting on a bench under a large shade tree, the sun spackling her through the leaves. Nostalgia hooked him and pulled at his chest. It felt like he’d traveled back in time.
He’d been so surprised to see her earlier that he hadn’t been able to look his fill. But no doubt—Rosie Holiday was still an absolute smoke show. The prim-and-proper thing had always done it for him. Hell, Rosie was probably the inspiration for that origin story. Every buttoned-up crush since had been because of her.
Leo grinned and sat beside her. Rosie narrowed her eyes, and happiness burst inside him. He loved that challenge in her expression. Always had.
“Hey, Rosie Posey.”
“God, Leo. Do not call me that.”
He laughed. “You sound exactly the same.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“Like a stern teacher who’s real good at putting me in my place.” He loved a nice sharp voice, and Rosie’s cut through him perfectly.
“I am a teacher.”
He paused. “I’m so glad, Rosie. I know that was your plan.”
They’d broken up because he’d wanted to be the wayfaring rebel. He had a drive inside him that compelled him to run away. After a childhood full of uncertainty and struggle, she’d needed a soft spot to land, a stable home, a steady career. He’d scurried off to LA, and she’d gone to college to become a teacher. He was glad their separate paths had worked out, but it bittersweet at the same time.
A comfortable silence stretched between them. He took the opportunity to study her, to find and delight in the ways she’d changed. The ways she hadn’t.
She was wearing a cornflower-blue tank top. It made her guarded, pale blue eyes pop and drew his attention to her throat. Her hair was cut into a chin-length bob that enhanced her delicate collarbones and freckle-speckled shoulders. He itched to paint that slope of neck and shoulder. To turn it into something he could capture and keep. Something hot. Something totally different than the drawings Dean’s students had churned out.
His art was the reason he was back in his hometown for more than a weekend stopover. He loved being an artist. He got a lot of joy out of creating for other people and traveling the country from one adult novelty convention to the next. He still had that impulse to put peddle to the metal and chase the newest muse, but that hadn’t been as fulfilling lately. It felt important that he’d run into Rosie. As if seeing her was exactly where and what he was meant to be doing. He was enough of a hippie-dippy free spirit to follow his gut, and his gut was guiding him right to her.
His and Rosie’s relationship had been a secret when they’d been teenagers. Back then, he’d never met her siblings. Yet, in a few days, he’d be selling his erotic art at a Lady Robin’s Independence Day popup shop, which had been organized by Rosie’s sister, Sasha. Lady Robin’s was his newest partnership. He ran in the same social and professional circles as Robin Erco, the owner of Lady Robin’s. It was all very convoluted and interconnected, but he’d fully expected to make it through this hometown visit without seeing Rosie Holiday.
