Page 59 of The Contractor's Rose
Gavin’s brow lifted slightly. “Adult?”
“You know. Like someone who’s not about to sit next to her fifty-two-year-old boyfriend and tell her same-aged parents she’s dating him.”
That earned me a low, rough chuckle. “You look stunning, Rose. You always do. But”—he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear—“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the sundresses. Preferably with no bra.”
Heat bloomed down my spine. “You’re evil,” I whispered.
He kissed me, slow and teasing, like he knew exactly what he was doing—and exactly how close I was to forgetting we had dinner plans. But before I could melt into him completely, he pulled back just enough to speak.
“Teagan’s downstairs in the truck.”
I blinked. “What?”
He held my gaze, gentle but unreadable. “I told her about dinner with your parents,” he said after a beat. “Figured she’d say something sarcastic or brush it off, but … she asked if she could come.”
“Sheasked?”
He nodded. “Shockingly, she said she’s not mad. Still confused, sure—but she told me she sees a difference in me. In you.”
I stared at him. “Different … how?”
He shrugged, but it was the thoughtful kind. The kind that meant he’d been thinking about it. “She said I don’t seem likeI’m walking through cement anymore. That I look lighter. Less bitter. Like I’min it,instead of just moving through it.”
My throat tightened.
“She said you’ve changed too,” he added. “That you seem more risky. Like you finally stopped holding your breath.”
I pressed my palm against his chest.
“That doesn’t mean she’s all in on us,” he went on. “But … it means she’s trying.”
I let out a slow exhale. “You think she’s trying foryou? Or for me? Or for whatever weird thing is between Elodie and her?”
“I think she’s trying for herself,” he said honestly. “And maybe for all of us, too.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
We walked downstairs together, the soft click of my heels sounding louder than usual on the stairs.
Outside, the truck was parked at the curb. The passenger door opened before we even reached it, and Teagan climbed out. She didn’t say anything. Just looked at me.
A flicker of something passed behind her eyes—then there was a small, tight smile. Nothing more. No bite. No frost. Just … neutral.
Has hell frozen over?
The anxiety began to build. This was too much. This was all too much. Dinner. My parents. Teagan. My sundress-turned-office secretary dress. I must’ve stopped moving, because a second later, Gavin stepped up behind me. His hands brushed down my arms, grounding me with the smallest touch.
“Breathe, Rose,” he murmured. “It’s going to be fine.”
I closed my eyes. “And if it’s not fine?” I asked quietly.
“Then it’s not fine,” he said, voice steady. “And we’ll figure it out. Together.”
I nodded once and began to climb into the passenger seat of the truck. Gavin gave me one of those smiles that caused the rest of the world to fade and then shut the door. While he moved to the driver’s side and started directing the truck toward the restaurant, I continued to think of every possible way that this conversation could go.
THIRTY-ONE
GAVIN
