Page 21 of Hiding Rose
Chapter Six
I couldn’t decide what to wear. I didn’t know why it mattered, but for some reason it did. He’s seen me in everything from jean shorts to sundresses, and nothing was going to be a surprise or knock his socks off, as he’s so fond of saying. I flipped through the dresses in the closet and frowned. Everything was super casual and nothing said, ‘I’m sexy and I know it.’ Then again, maybe I don’t want to be sexy. It might give him the wrong idea.
I sighed. “You need to get a grip, Rosie. He’s going to be here in fifteen minutes and it would be smart to have clothes on, any kind of clothes.”
I glanced down at my underwear clad body and grimaced when I saw the scars covering my left leg. There was nothing sexy about those and I would do well to remember it. Sawyer deserved a woman with the energy and stamina to keep up with his busy life. I’ve seen him in the gym. He goes hard and fast in everything he does and the hard and fast ship sailed for me a year ago. I’m lucky if I can go soft and slow most days.
My eyes landed on a purple chiffon skirt in the back of the closet. It was knee length and covered my scars, but paired with the right top it would look flirty and cute. I grabbed it from the hanger and threw it on the bed, then pawed through the other clothes until I found my white, off the shoulder pull over blouse. The outfit said young and flirty, and it fit me well. I pulled the shirt on and then the skirt, tucking in the shirt and adding a belt around my waist. Standing in front of the mirror I was happy with the look. It appeared I was wearing a dress, and hopefully he would love it. I sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of ballet flats. I had five pairs because they were the only thing somewhat dressy which allowed me to walk and not fall down. Forget about heels, wedges, or sandals. None of those worked with crutches and a jacked-up leg. At least with the ballet flats my foot always connected with the ground, and I knew where it was at all times.
I leaned into the mirror and swiped on some mascara, then fluffed my shoulder length bleach blonde hair. The first thing I did when I arrived in Hawaii was dye my hair. I wanted a new look, but I also wanted to hide behind it. If Jarrett was looking for me, a change in hair color, and a pair of fake glasses was the best I could do to conceal my identity. Over time, the glasses fell away and I stopped worrying about putting on a disguise every time I went out. Maybe that’s the wrong move, but it’s hard to live in fear every second of every day and maintain a level of high alert. It’s hard on your body and your mind.
A knock sounded and I gave myself one last look before I grabbed my crutch and limped toward the door. It was going to be a two-crutch night, unfortunately. I frowned. There was no way to hold hands when you were using two crutches. “Now we’re holding hands?” I muttered. “This is a working date, Rosie.”
I peeked through the peephole and Sawyer stood on the other side of the door. He wore a dress shirt open at the neck and a sport coat made of cream linen. His hair was damp and styled in a swoop to the right and once again he was clean shaven. He must have left the restaurant an hour ago to have time to get this dressed up.
I opened the door and he smiled, his enthusiasm contagious. “Good evening, Rose. How are you?” he asked, stepping forward and kissing my cheek.
I returned the smile. “Honestly? Better now that you’re here, as hard as it is to admit.”
He strode forward, forcing me backward into the apartment. He closed the door and leaned against it, pulling me into a hug. He held me, his arms across my back and his face in my neck. “Why is it hard to admit?” he asked, his breath tickling my neck as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, as if he was drinking in the scent of me.
“Because you’re a man and I should be untrusting of all men for the rest of my life,” I whispered.
His arms tightened around me. “Oh, sweetheart. Not all men are bad. Not all men will hurt you. The right man will do the opposite and heal you. Look at Kate and Gideon or Ellie and Mr. I.T. They’ve been through their share of heartache, but they’re stronger for it.”
“Which is the problem,” I whispered. “I see them every day and it drives home how alone I am in this world.”
He kissed my cheek and trailed his lips down to my chest before he glanced up to hold my eyes. “You’re only alone if you allow yourself to be alone. No one can hurt you within the walls of your home because no one will let them. You’re safe here with us and I hope you understand when you’re in my arms, you’re safe, too. I’ll never do anything to hurt you, Rose. You’re special, and all I want to do is get to know you better. Sure, I’ve had a crush on you since the first day I laid eyes on you. I’ve dreamed about holding you in my arms like this since I met you, but I’m only doing it because you’re allowing it. I’m following your cues. Do you understand? I’ll never push you to be more or do more than you’re comfortable with.”
I nodded quickly, my eyes never leaving his. “You always know what I need to hear, too,” I said, a small smile tipping my lips up.
He released me and brought his arm around to the front of him, holding a single pink rose. “This is for you, a perfect rose for a perfect rose.”
I accepted the flower and held it to my nose, inhaling deeply. “Thank you, it’s beautiful,” I agreed, noticing a tag on the flower. I read it to myself.A pink rose represents admiration, gentleness, grace, gladness, joy, and sweetness. I read that on a sheet near the cooler of flowers. I sense you need all of those things in your life, and I want to be the one to provide them. Never stop being you, Rose. You’re perfect and I admire you, more than you’ll ever know. S.
I held the flower to my chest and a tear fell down my cheek. “Thank you. You’re too sweet,” I whispered, my voice choked with tears.
He brushed a tear away from my face and frowned slightly. “I didn’t want to make you cry, Rose, but now I see how shattered your soul really is. I’m sorry for whatever happened and whoever hurt you. It breaks my heart to see a beautiful woman scared of living her life. I’ll always be here for you.”
I wiped a tear off my cheek and forced a smile to my face. “I’ll be okay,” I promised, stiffening my upper lip.
He laughed softly and put his arm around me, after dropping the crutches to the floor. He held me up as we walked the short distance to the kitchen. “I know you’re okay. You’re a fighter which is what drew me to you. How about if we put the flower in some water and head down to the deck for dinner?”
“I don’t have a vase,” I admitted, staring at the beautiful rose, it’s petals open slightly with the promise of more to come.
He reached into the cupboard and took down a tall, clear, plastic water bottle. “No problem, this will do fine.” He filled it with water and lowered the flower into it, then placed both my hands on the counter to hold onto. He carried the flower to my bedside table and left it next to my book before returning to take my waist again. “Now then pretty lady, do me the honor of dinner?”
He helped me back toward the door and picked up my crutches, handing them to me while he held the door. It was scary how much I trusted him already, and something in the back of my mind told me someday I would need him on my side.
The night was clear and cool, the wind blowing off the water to rustle the tablecloth. January in Hawaii cools off considerably at night, but nothing like Minnesota. In Minnesota, you need a snowsuit to sit outside and eat. In Hawaii, it’s pleasant and romantic to be out under the sky at night. The stars shone bright above us as we sat on the outdoor dining deck for Kupid’s Table. The feel was relaxed and casual, but provided diners with the same fantastic food from the restaurant inside. Sawyer had secured the one and only semi-private table, partially hidden from view of other diners by a lattice and ivy portico. The spot afforded you a gorgeous view of the ocean as it stretched along the beach. The twinkle lights hung from the edges of the wooden structure to throw light on the table for two below it.
“How did you get the night off?” I asked, sipping my white wine. It was sweet and light, but I could feel the alcohol going straight to my head. I haven’t drunk a lot in the past year and mixed with my medications, I decided I’d better be cautious, especially around him.
“I don’t have to work every night. My chefs are more than capable of completing a dinner service without me. I’m always around for the prep and on my nights off they take it from there. If I have to be gone, my assistant executive chef steps in and does a fine job.”
“I suppose you would get burned out having to work every day,” I said, pondering what it must be like to work a job like his every day. The organizing and tasks must seem endless.
“A person gets burned out quickly if they do anything day in and day out. We aren’t created to be stagnant as humans.”
