Page 35 of Wild Love
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll find out when they’ll be here.” I don’t tell her I haven’t told them about her, and I suddenly feel sick that I haven’t.
“I brought beers and s’mores!” Rosie announces, popping my bubble of guilt as she walks up from the lake.
The fence line between the two properties doesn’t extend to the water, so it’s more direct to walk over than to bother driving around. Still, her presence surprises me. It takes me back to when we were kids, ripping around town on our bikes like the little gang of misfits we were. Showing up at each other’s houses unannounced. Messy hair, dirt under our nails, sun-bleached hair.
Not a care in the world.
Rosie looks nothing like that anymore. She’s wearing an oversized, bright-white, fuzzy fleece that reminds of a blanket. Her hair is drawn up in a high pony, held in place with a neon-pink velvet scrunchie. And she’s rounded theensemble off with plush socks, Birkenstocks, and a pair of black leggings.
Some people might think she looks like a hot mess, as I told her earlier. But I think she’s just plain hot. Blazers and high heels all day, thenthisat night. I think what I find appealing about the dichotomy is she clearly just wears what she wants—what she feels like—and looks good in it all.
I don’t get the sense she gives a single fuck about what I think of her, and I find that refreshing as hell.
The longer I watch her, the more a heavy tightness takes over my chest. I press my palm there to ease the ache. Willing myself to not think too hard about my body’s reaction.
“Hi!” Cora welcomes her so brightly that I almost do a double take. The enthusiasm at seeing Rosie is unexpected, but also… same.
“Hello, my little storm cloud,” Rosie says as she places her drinks and food on the grass.
My little storm cloud?
She makes her way to the firepit where we’re crouching and ruffles Cora’s black hair affectionately. Cora rolls her eyes but smiles shyly down at the ground. Leave it to Rosie to blast through any walls or tendrils of discomfort. That’s her gift. The ability to walk into a room and make everyone like her without even trying.
She’s the sun, the rest of us are just dumb rocks orbiting her.
“Hello, my big storm cloud,” she says to me, before turning her knuckles onto my scalp and giving me a noogie.
“Very professional, Rosalie.”
I don’t let myself look at her, but I freeze when I feel the nail of her index finger trace along the shell of my ear. I know she’s being playful, but I suck in a sharp breath all the same.
One I hold when she leans down, face close enough to really be unprofessional. Her breath fans across my neck when she whispers, “We’re not at work right now,Junior.”
I glare at her from the corner of my eye, but Cora interrupts me.
Laughing.
“He really does hate that, doesn’t he?”
I know they mean the nickname, but I’m still caught up in the feel of Rosie’s fingers on my skin. I didn’t hate that part at all.
Rosie steps away, ending the contact. “Oh yeah. Always has. I brought you a soda since you can’t drink beer.” Rosie wobbles her head like she’s thinking that one over. “Yet. You can’t drink beeryet. When did we start, Ford?”
“I only remember you drinking gin and tonic.”
She sighs wistfully and flops down onto an empty stump as her seat. “God. I love gin and tonic. Panty remover.”
I cough, but Rosie forges ahead, ignoring me. “Anyway, Cora, I ran to the store and got you this root beer they make at the brewery in town.”
“You ran to the store?” I ask, urging Cora closer so we can get the fire lit.
Rosie shrugs. “I mean, yeah. I wasn’t going to show up without something for Cora.”
Cora kneels beside me, and it makes me realize that for all her big attitude she is still really very small. Her legs next to mine. Her hands as they wrap around the lighter.
I stare at her, struggling to push up the safety lock while also igniting the flame. It hits me how young she is, how alone she is, that she’s been here for days, and I’ve spent that time being awkward as hell around her.
“Here.” I reach my arm over her shoulders. “I’ll do the safety. You squeeze the ignition and light the paper.”
