Page 143 of Wild Love
It irks me more than it should. Mostly because it makes it even harder to be mad at Ford.
I make my way down to the lake with a bottle of red wine in hand and my favorite Navajo blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
I know that if I can sit on the dock and watch the sun go down, maybe I’ll be able to let this day go. Let all the grains of frustration I feel dissolve into the darkness as the light slips behind the mountain peaks.
Except when I get to the spot where the wooden boards meet the green grass, I stop. There’s a small sign. A plain slab of wood with light blue paint slashed across it.
It readsRosie’s Dock.
I stare at it for several moments before realizing there’s an envelope on the ground beneath it. My name is scrawled across it in Ford’s alarmingly perfect handwriting. I swipe it up and rip it open. Inside is a deed to a small section of Ford’s massive property. According to the map, it’s long and narrow and reaches all the way up to the back of the property. It’s a buffer between hisland and my family’s, and it’s also the section that links to the dock.
All this time, this dock hasn’t been mine at all. But when has Ford ever said no to me?
The paper rattles in my shaking hand, and it’s with a swirling pit in my stomach that I walk to the end of the dock.
My dock.
I need the peace and quiet I couldn’t find earlier with West’s kids around to process the last twenty-four hours.
Quite possibly the last several months.
But when I sit down, Ford and his shredded arms are swimming in the lake. The sun hits his already-tanned back and droplets of water shimmer on his skin. His hair appears almost black while wet and plastered across his forehead as he tilts his head to breathe.
He’s so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at him.
And I must be some sort of masochist because I also can’t look away.
I don’t know how long I sit here watching him. Long enough that all my anger, all my reasons for being disappointed, feel redundant and overwrought.
Heshouldn’thave told West what he did. Shouldn’t have turned it into some sort of high school vendetta.
And yet, I know him well enough to understand his chest-beating alpha bullshit was well-intentioned. He’d never hurt me. Not on purpose.
I’m sad he broke my trust the way he did. But I also know I’ll forgive him.Tomorrow.
I’ll forgive him tomorrow because I don’t want to be atotal pushover where Ford Grant is concerned. The man is far too accustomed to getting what he wants.
Eventually, he stops and surfaces, facing away from me. I watch the muscles in his back and shoulders bunch and release as he treads water, staring out at the same view I’m facing.
Except I have my eyes locked on him, not on the sky or the mountains. I find myself wondering how long I’ve been staring at Ford Grant.
I’m thinking it’s been a long-ass time, but I was too oblivious to see it. Too convinced he was too cerebral for a girl like me. Too convinced he disliked me. Too convinced he wasjustmy brother’s best friend, and I was just their annoying tagalong.
I’m thinking that Ford and I have been in love with each other for years and just rationalized it to the point it felt unlikely, made up…impossible.
I suck in a breath, and he spins to face me, surprised by my presence. “Rosie.” He breathes my name like it’s the air itself. Necessary. Integral to his survival.
All I do is hold my glass up in a silent toast and swallow over the dry lump in my throat.
His face is drawn, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he regards me. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I nod quickly, blinking, wishing away the moisture that’s building behind my lashes. “I know. The dock, huh?”
He nods. “Squatter’s rights.”
“Ugh.” I blink away, wiping my eyes. Of course he has to be sorryandfunny.
“Arranged for Cora’s mom to come for a visit,—driverbrought her out here for the party tomorrow. So, she’s setting up in the spare room.”
