Page 28 of Wild Love
“Still only eat Old Dutch sour cream and onion?”
I’m met with a soft giggle. “I can’t believe you remember that. But yeah. They’re getting harder and harder to find in the box though. Sometimes I have to settle for the bag.” She sneers at her snack.
“Does it matter?”
“The box is more charming. Tastes better too, I think.”
“You think so?” I pop one into my mouth and it’s like instant déjà vu. While Rosie has been eating these chips her entire life, I’ve never eaten them with anyone other than her. Sunburnt shoulders, freckles on our noses, wet towels, an entire pack of kids here for the summer pushing each other off the dock.
“Yeah, it’s like Coke out of a glass bottle—superior in every way.”
I wobble my head as I reach for another chip. “You’re not wrong.”
She smiles, satisfaction painting her features. “Music to my ears, Junior. Haven’t heard how right I am in a while.”
The comment is offhanded enough, but it still gets my gears turning. Rosie is studious and bright, and even though she’s a grade A shit-talker, she’s an exceptional human. I know she is. Who the fuck has been telling her she’s anything other than right?
“Where’s Cora?” she asks between crunches, clearly not giving a shit about looking prim or polite in front of me. And that’s special—someone who treats me like I’mme. She treats me like I’m just a regular dude and not the planet’s sexiest bajillionaire or whatever the fuck that stupid article was called.
I don’t want to be him, and with Rosie I don’t need to be.
“Writing frantically in her journal. I asked her if she wanted to come down to the lake with me, and she shot me a dirty look.”
“Ugh. I should really start writing in a diary again. So cathartic. Probably will need to if I’m going to work with you all day, every day.”
I scoff and run a hand through my hair, watching the water ripple beneath the spring breeze. “I don’t know what I’m doing with her. I mean, I’ve got a roof over her head and food for her to eat, but we’re strangers. I don’t know how to be a dad.”
“I don’t think she needs you to be her dad. She has one of those—or had. She just needs you to be there for her in whatever way works for the two of you.”
“This whole thing is fucking weird, and we both know it.”
Rosie nods, lost in thought, still kicking her feet in an almost childlike way. “Yeah. It is. But sometimes we’re just doing the best we can, ya know? Like this is brand-new for both of you. There’s going to be an adjustment period. And I remember being her age, so full of angst and hormones and thinking I knew so much more than I did. You need to find a common ground with her, something you can do togetherthat doesn’t feel like… like homework or something. Clearly, she doesn’t enjoy swimming, but what does she like?”
I snort. “The color black.”
“Black is a great color.”
“Rosie, black isn’t a color. It’s a shade. And that’s rich coming from the girl who’s been wearing pink almost exclusively since I first met her at nine years old.”
She laughs. “You’re such a nerd. And I don’tonlywear pink. Currently my bra and panties are bright red.”
I freeze for a beat and then wipe my face with an open palm. I huff out a beleaguered sigh, pretending like I’m exasperated by her when I really just need a moment to regain my composure.
And to keep myself from imagining Rosalie Belmont in bright red lingerie.
A soft laugh filters over from her. “Calm your tits, Junior. It was a joke.”
With that, she… throws a chip at my face.
Her eyes widen like she can’t believe what she just did, and then she laughs with a subtle shake of her head. “I swear I revert to a bratty twelve-year-old when I’m around you.”
I chuckle, look down at my hands, and… throw my chip at her face.
“Ford Grant. I know you did not just do that.” She gasps the words out, struggling to keep it together. Her cheeks pull up into round, rose-colored apples. If I have to throw chips at her to make her laugh like this—the kind of laughter that hurts your stomach and gets you kicked out of class—so be it.
I’ll throw chips at Rosie Belmont every damn day.
All I do is shoot her a wink and toss another one, which hits the bow of her top lip, leaving a dusting of sour cream and onion powder in its path.
