Page 135 of Wild Love
He just nuzzles against me again and responds with a quiet, “I’ve always loved you, Rosie.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
FORD
I wakeup wrapped around Rosie like I’m a child snuggling with my favorite teddy bear. Her torso curves into mine, my legs framing the backs of hers. I’ve got an arm draped over her shoulder and my hand covers hers completely, our fingers linked.
She smells like the lilacs that grow down by the lake, and she feels like heaven.
She feels like home.
She feels like she’s finallymine.
I shut my eyes and nuzzle down into her neck, trailing the tip of my nose over the shell of her ear. Breathing her in, letting her hair catch in the bristled stubble on my chin. I want so badly to drift back to sleep, to spend all day like this.
But there’s a subtle buzzing going on somewhere in the room. Annoying, like a fly buzzing around my head. Intruding on our peace just enough that agitation flaresinside me. And then concern takes hold as I think about Cora and whether anything could be wrong.
She’s mine but not. Bearing the burden of safeguarding her until her mother recovers is an immense pressure. And it’s that stress that pulls me from the warmth of the bed and the comfort of Rosie’s sleeping body.
She stirs as I search the room. We were in such a frenzy last night that I’m not sure where our phones are. Her tiny, pearl-encrusted clutch is dropped by the front door, but when I touch it, it’s not vibrating.
The buzzing stops, then picks up again, and worry flares inside me. I turn, heading toward the pile of clothes that are actually an expensive tuxedo. The jacket is tangled up in the pants, and my fingers scramble to separate it as the noise grows louder. I lift the jacket and shove a hand into the inside pocket, my gut dropping hard and fast when I see my lawyer’s name flashing on the screen.
The heavy, gasping way I suck in a breath has Rosie’s eyes flipping open as every worst-case scenario flashes through my mind. Which is why I’m equal parts relieved and surprised when I pick up with a “What?” and Belinda answers with, “Why are you ignoring your calls? Weston Belmont got arrested last night, and I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours.”
Rosie sits up in the bed, not bothering to cover herself. She’s stunning. All warm and rumpled and wearing a bite mark on her left breast from last night.
It’s a shame she’s about to be really fucking mad at me.
While my lawyer chews me out about how I need toget my ass to Vancouver and help my friend because some asshole named Stan is hell-bent on pressing charges, I soak Rosie in, not fully listening.
Pleading with the universe for this to not be something she holds against me for too long.
“Got it,” I say back to her. “We’re on our way.” I hang up and take in the confused expression lining Rosie’s face.
“What’s going on? Is Cora okay?”
My heart thuds heavily against my ribs, knowing what I’m about to tell her and feeling even more in love with her for asking about Cora before anything else.
“Cora is fine. But…” I scrub a hand over my stubbled jaw and let loose a muttered, “Fuck.”
“Ford.” Rosie tugs the sheet up over herself, like a layer of protection. Like she’s already anticipating some sort of blow. “What’s wrong?”
“West got arrested. We need to go to Vancouver.”
She rears back ever so slightly—this wasn’t what she was expecting. We both know her bother has stayed out of trouble since having kids. They seemed to soothe some of that reckless abandon in him. That ferocity.
But nowI’mthe one who pushed him too far.
“Forwhat? And why the hell was he in Vancouver?”
She pushes up onto her knees, gathering the sheet higher, almost wrapping it around herself, reading my face—my body.
“He was helping me.”
Her face is blank, eyes wide like saucers. The silence in the room crescendos.
“With Stan.”
