Page 47 of The Contractor's Rose
I signed the check for the bill, leaving a generous tip. Harry always insisted on paying, but I told him I’d take care of it tonight. It was the least I could do after what I just pulled—chasing after his daughter like a man thinking with the wrong head.
As I stood, I scanned the bar, eyes catching on thefamiliar golden hair I’d already memorized in far too much detail. Rose was back at the bar, locked in a hug with Elodie. I couldn’t hear them from where I was, but I’d bet good money on the fact that Elodie was issuing some kind of warning or lecture.
Rose smiled, ducking her head a little, and even from across the room I could see the flush that crept up her cheeks. That damn green dress still clung to her body like a second skin. I shifted where I stood, jaw clenching.
Elodie pressed a quick kiss to Rose’s cheek, and it hit me in a place I didn’t expect. Something about seeing them like that—so open, so affectionate—punched through some of the heavy load-bearing walls I’d built over the years.
Teagan and Elodie used to be like that. Back before everything broke apart.
I remembered the way they’d laugh until they cried, sneaking around job sites swiping my hard hats just so they could whack each other with sticks like a pair of feral kids. Elodie was always the bold one, but Teagan kept up—hell, sometimes she led the charge. They were thick as thieves.
But then everything quieted. Elodie stopped coming around. I asked Teagan if something happened. She shrugged. Said people drift. That was the end of it.
But she stopped smiling after all of that. Stopped letting me in. Losing her mother and her best friend so close changed her.
Before I could spiral too far down that road, a warm featherlight touch grazed my forearm. I looked down and met the brown eyes I’d been thinking about all night.
“Hey,” Rose said, soft as a sigh.
Christ. I am the luckiest bastard alive.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I hummed, letting the comfort of beingnear her settle between us as I guided her toward the exit. My hand pressed to the small of her back, possessive and protective. She leaned into it, letting me steer her like she’d always belonged right there under my hand.
Outside, the night air was cooler, cleaner. My truck was parked just a few rows away, and I walked her to the passenger side, opening the door and giving a mock bow and gesture.
She blushed as she stepped up into the truck seat. I reached in with full intent of buckling her seatbelt, but my knuckles grazed her chest. She shuddered as my thumb brushed the curve of her breast, catching the tight peak of her nipple. No bra. I already knew that because of the low back of her dress, but the confirmation was its own kind of torture.
I let my eyes drag up her body slowly until they found hers. She was watching me, breath caught and lips parted.
I clicked the seatbelt into place and let my palm rest for just a second on her bare thigh.
“You drive me insane,” I growled.
She exhaled shakily. “You’re not exactly doing great things for my sanity, either.”
I shut the door and moved around to the driver’s side, adrenaline sharp in my veins, desire crackling under my skin.
Once we were on the road, silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the city lights flickering past.
“You look good tonight,” I couldn’t help but say.
“You’ve mentioned that a couple times,” she replied, her voice almost too steady.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
A beat of silence.
Then—“Did my dad see us? Talking at the bar?”
“I don’t think so.” I glanced over. “He would have mentioned it if he did. Maybe even tossed the pitcher of beer on me.”
She let out a breathy laugh. “That’d be a scene.”
I shifted gears, keeping one hand on the wheel while placing the other across the seat, pushing the bottom of her dress up just enough to trail my fingers along the inside of her thigh. The heat of her skin had my pulse racing.
“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” I confessed. “The way you look in that dress. The way your lips tasted in the bathroom.”
“Gavin,” she breathed.
