Page 29 of Wild Love
She throws her head back and laughs, that long ponytail cascading farther down her back. A little moisture leaks from the corner of her eye as she pulls a chip from the bag, but before she can throw it at me, my hand whips out. I’m laughing too when my fingers curl around her dainty wrist.
We’re both laughing when I playfully tug her closer and reach for the chip gripped between her fingers. She tumbles into me, and it crumbles all over us as we fall and fight over it like two children over a toy. The bag of chips gets discarded on the other side of her.
Her free palm lands between the thick lapels of my terry cloth bathrobe, on my bare chest.
And that’s when the laughter stops.
Her eyes fall to where her skin presses against mine. All the immature playfulness between us bleeds away, dripping between the boards of the dock and washing away in the lake.
When my eyes snap back up to hers, I get the full experience of watching Rosalie Belmont lick her lips while the tips of her fingers curve lightly into the indent just below my collarbone. She’s taking a good, long, blatant look.
And I’m too stunned to move. Too weak to stop her.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” West’s voice, cutting through the golden twilight air, has her gaze flying up to meet my own.
We both shoot up to a sitting position as if we’ve been caught doing something wrong.
I’ve barely gotten my bearings when she pats my shoulder like she’s consoling a child and whispers, “Sorry.”
With no warning, she shoves me off the end of the dock and into the lake to the sound of her brother’s laughter. I only drop below the water for a moment before I burst back above the surface.
“Taking a walk down memory lane,” she calls back to West as he strolls down the dock in heavy boots.
Both Belmonts laugh while I wipe the water from my eyes and look up. I point at Rosie, not sure what just happened, but certain of one thing for sure…
“You’re going to pay for that one, Rosie Posie.”
CHAPTER TEN
ROSIE
When I walkinto the mildew-scented building we’re calling an office, I’m ready to face the day.
I toned down my regular work attire, but my blazer is a dusty rose—pink, I guess—and that makes me happy. I’ve paired it with a plain white tee, baggy boyfriend jeans, and a pair of suede, beige boots with chunky heels—hopefully, they’ll hurt when I kick Ford’s ass for being so utterly bewildering.
The hair tug. The way he went eerily still at my red underwear joke. The way he dragged me closer to him. The way his chest peeking from beneath his robe stopped me in my tracks.
The way he let me touch him with no hesitation.
Yeah. I’m gonna kick his ass all right.
Ford is already here, sitting at the old desk, phone propped between his shoulder and ear. He looks relaxed—armscrossed, feet kicked out, so he’s leaned back. I can faintly hear someone talking on the other end, and while he listens, I try not to stare at him or what I now know is a hard chest under his cable-knit sweater. Beaded bracelets stacked on top of a watch that is just shiny enough to draw your eye.
Mussed hair. Scuffed boots. His stubble a little longer than it was yesterday.
He’s basically a flashing red light. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t let my brain proceed.
My brother. My maybe boyfriend, maybe roommate. I need to keep my eyes on my work and not on whatever transformation Ford has gone through in the past decade that has left him oozing sex.
I steel myself as I offer him a firm wave and turn away with a new sense of direction. Or at least a new sense of which side of the road to avoid veering off into.
But when I actually look at the space, I come to a screeching halt. Straight across from Ford’s desk, approximately twenty feet away, is another desk. With another chair. Facing him.
Basically, my own personal torture chamber. Am I supposed to spend all day working while facing Ford? No fucking way.
I storm toward the desk but come up short when my eyes catch on what’s sitting on top.
The book cover has a pattern of butterflies in a field of flowers. They dance along the tops of the blooms. The hard cover was shiny once, but it’s a little water-stained now. A little dirty in one corner.
