Page 20 of Unravel Me

I run a hand over my mouth to hide my guilty smile. “Thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Adam! Call your mama right now and apologize!”

“I know, I know. I told you: I was a little shit. But hey, I turned out all right.” I grin, extra charming, and waggle my brows. “I’ve even been called angelic as an adult.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Cocky too. And what about nicknames? Do you have any?”

“Woody, I guess, would be the only one.”

“Woody? Why?”

I tell her the half truth, because I’m not telling her about the hotel incident. “Because my last name is Lockwood.”

“Lockwood,” she murmurs, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to put my first and last name together, for recognition to hit. Waiting for this happy, safe bubble I’ve found myself in to finally burst.

But it doesn’t.

She smiles, holding her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Adam Lockwood. I’m Rosie Wells.”

I chuckle, tugging her into my side, swinging my arm around her shoulders. “You’re cute as fuck, Rosie Wells.” Bear tosses me a stare over his shoulder, and I roll my eyes. “You, too, Bear.” Piglet swings around, hammering Bear in the face with her butt, and bounds over to us, tongue hanging out of her mouth. “And you, too, pretty Pig.”

She loops through Rosie’s legs with a whimper, big brown eyes peeking at the top of the stairs as they come into view. I hand Bear’s leash to Rosie and pat my chest.

“C’mon, girl.”

“You’re gonna throw your back out one of these days,” Rosie scolds as I lift Piglet into my arms.

“Nah.” I shift Piglet to one arm and flex the bicep on my other. “I’m big and strong.”

“Your daddy thinks he’s all that and a bag of potato chips, Bear, doesn’t he?” she whispers to him as they start down the stairs, and the little shit barks his agreement. “Right, if he really wanted to impress us, he’d carry you too.”

“I can hear you!”

She flashes me a brilliant smile over her shoulder. “You’re doing great, Adam! Wow, you’re so strong!”

“Women,” I mutter, and Pig sticks her tongue in my ear.

I spend the ten-minute walk to Wildheart contemplating how to casually drop that I’m a famous professional athlete, that I think she’s really pretty, and it would be super great if she wanted to maybe, like…spend some time with me. Eat a meal she doesn’t make me, maybe have a glass of wine that I can taste from her lips after.

I open my mouth approximately twenty thousand times and snap it shut in favor of silence each time.

Rosie’s not doing much better than me. She’s standing here in front of me, twirling a pink lock and scuffing at the ground with her shoes, beat-up Nikes with a white and blue floral swoosh. Her eyes bounce between her feet and my face, her cheeks growing warmer with each pass.

“Well, I guess—”

“Do you wanna have dinner with me?” I blurt, and suddenly my cheeks are as red as hers.

“Dinner?”

“I know we agreed to hike again next Saturday, but it would be nice to see you before then.”

Wide, hopeful eyes peer up at mine. “Before then?”

“Before then.”

“Before Saturday?”

“Before Saturday.”

---