Wild Love: Chapter 24

I hear Willa before I see her. Heavy footsteps and a loud yawn precede her entry into the kitchen. My sister is not a morning person.

“Fuck, this place is really nice,” she says as she peers around the kitchen. I can’t help but feel a spark of pride. Before it was rough, a little run-down. Now it’s all windows opening out to the lake, wide floorboards, wood-beam ceilings, and industrial light fixtures.

“It looks like a total dump from outside,” she adds from behind her fist as she covers another yawn. “But that guest bed is to die for.”

I scoff and shake my head while pointing her toward a full pot of coffee. “It doesn’t look like a dump. I wanted to keep the reclaimed wood exterior.”

She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Bet that was more expensive than just re-siding it.”

All I give her back is an eye roll. It was more expensive. But those weather-worn vertical boards carried far too much character—far too many stories—to just tear down or cover up.

I like that the house is unassuming. I like that it feels like it belongs nestled in the wilderness of the Rockies.

“Can you leave me this place in your will? I love it. And we both know I’m going to live forever. I have too much energy to die.” She approaches the long kitchen island with a mischievous grin, sliding up to its black stone counter. “You, on the other hand…”

“Nice, Wils. But I’m not dying.” Though I feel like I might be after pulling an all-nighter.

She regards me over the rim of her coffee cup, taking a thoughtful sip. “No, but I’ll put money on West killing you with his bare hands if he finds out you were making out with his baby sister last night.”

Fuck. Did she see us?

I stare at Willa, willing my face to give nothing away. “Rosie is a friend and employee. Don’t go making up stories.”

“Oh yeah? Is pushing her up against a wall and shoving your tongue down her throat how you check your emails?

Or was there a really important quote from a subcontractor hidden in there?”

Double fuck. She saw us alright.

I wipe a tired hand over my face. “Sounds like I should charge admission for how long you watched.”

She laughs at that with a subdued shake of her head. “You can try, but I get a family discount.”

My hand stays gripped over my stubble as I stare back at my sister. “How does Cade put up with you?” As far as I’m concerned her husband should be nominated for sainthood.

She grins wider now. “He doesn’t. He just holds on for dear life and comes along for the ride.”

I can’t help but laugh as I prop my hands on the edge of the counter and drop my head. I drove myself crazy all night long.

Should I? Shouldn’t I? Could I? Why can’t I?

“How is Cade? The kids?” I don’t even look up at her as I say it. I can’t.

“They’re great. Life is great. I thought I was pissed at you for making me drag my ass all the way out here to rag on you before Mom and Dad could do it first. But honestly, this is just way more fun than I banked on. I love watching you be confused. It’s very satisfying for me as the chaotic child with zero sense of direction.”

My shoulders shake.

“You’ve never been more relatable.”

I push up, my eyes meeting my sister’s. “You’re a true comfort, Willa. Thank you for the kind words.”

“You don’t need kind words. You need a kick in the ass.”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Her eyes bug out and her coffee cup taps against the counter as she places it down a little harder than necessary. “Oh my god, Ford! You are so dumb. You’ve been in love with that girl since you were a teenager. You should absolutely have made a move.”

I scoff. “I have not been in love with her since then.”

“You have.”

“That’s not true, and we both know it. You were probably too young to understand that I mostly hated Rosie.”

Or at least my cover was that I did.

Willa shakes her head and reaches for her coffee again, like she is profoundly disappointed in me. “You don’t hate her. You never did. You hate that you think you can’t have her.”

“Deep. Except, I don’t just think that. I know it.”

“Who told you that? Did Rosie tell you that?”

I tilt my neck, feigning a stretch to buy myself a moment to choose my next words. “I’ve been friends with West for⁠—”

“Pardon my French, but fuck West.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, seriously. You’ve never been weird about me dating a guy. Haven’t walked around like you have some sort of claim over my body or my life.”

“Never figured you’d meet someone nuts enough to take you on,” I mutter just loud enough that she hears me.

“If I had told you I was dating West, what would you have done?”

I look her dead in the eye. “Invested in having a top-of-the-line bomb shelter built because the two of you together would certainly bring about some sort of nuclear event.”

What I get in return is an exasperated eye roll. “Seriously, would you have been mad at West? Are you really telling me your best friend—who has held that title for literal years— wouldn’t be good enough to date me? What would that say about you?”

My eyes flash to the staircase and I desperately hope this isn’t the first Saturday morning Cora decides not to sleep in.

“I mean, yeah. It would have taken me a minute to wrap my head around it, because you both almost feel like family to me. But no, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

“Cool, I’m so glad I almost feel like family,” she deadpans. Then, “So you wouldn’t have felt betrayed?”

I run my hands through my hair, tugging, and then prop them behind my head. “No. I mean, maybe if you guys were sneaking around and not telling me.”

She slaps the counter. “Well, good. There’s your answer.”

It’s more complicated than that. Knowing the work situation Rosie just fled, knowing her financial situation, knowing I’ve hired her with a contract and everything… it feels slimy to go after her.

And as much as I see Willa’s point, I still feel guilty where West is concerned.

“I think there’s a little more to it than me knocking on West’s door and telling him I’m in love with his sister.” The words come out before I can stop them. Before I can think about them. Before I can process them.

“Oh boy. I really wish I could buy tickets for the coming weeks in Rose Hill. Sadly, the ranch is hella busy this time of year. So, I’m going to go hang out with my niece before I have to leave this afternoon. Maybe you should go for a swim or something. Figure your shit out.”

Then she salutes me and walks away. She’s at the base of the staircase, one hand on the wrought-iron banister, when she stops, spins, and marches right back up to me, placing her coffee on the counter.

“I know I tell you that you’re awful and boring all the time, but I don’t mean it. You’re a good man, Ford. Don’t overthink yourself into unhappiness. Go after exactly what you want for a change. I love you.” She wraps me in a rare hug—one I didn’t know I needed.

And I hug her back. “Thanks, Wils,” I murmur. “I love you too. That’s why you’re the sole beneficiary of my estate and holdings.”

“Fuck yesss.” She chuckles the words and squeezes me tighter. “But don’t die yet, okay? Dying young would break your boring streak.”

The door to the barn-turned-office creaks as I step into the space. Willa suggested a swim, but between the bar in the city, Gramophone, and this place, I feel like I’m drowning. So, working a couple of hours in an office that is finally almost organized is what will make me feel best.

The space has completely transformed over the past several weeks. Rosie wasn’t wrong about Bash. He works efficiently, and he doesn’t get in the way. We’ve had to work from my house for a couple of days here and there, when he’s deep in refurbishing, but things have mostly come together painlessly—despite the constant frown on Bash’s face.

The sliding barn doors have been retrofitted with glass and hung on new tracks. Built-in shelves have been mounted to the walls. New lighting wired. Even the exposed stone fireplace looks like it’s been given new life.

But it’s what’s across from the fireplace that stops me in my tracks. Rosie is fast asleep, curled on her side on the leather couch. She’s tucked her hands under her cheek and pulled her knees up like she might be cold.

I stand there, frozen, wondering what to do next. Deep down, I’m dying to slide in behind her. To curl around her and keep her warm. We could spend this entire Saturday lying together and listening to records.

Realistically, I know better. But it doesn’t keep me from wondering what she’s doing here, sleeping in the office. A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s 7:00 a.m. and not an unreasonable time for her to wake up. So I make my way across the room, the gummy soles of my suede Gazelles quiet on the hardwood floors.

When I sit on the couch’s far cushion, she stirs but doesn’t wake. Her Birkenstocks lie discarded on the floor nearby, and on her feet are the kind of socks you’d use to make a puppet. Gray and white with a red line.

Only Rosie could make socks and sandals cute.

I reach for her, my hand wrapping delicately around her slender ankle. Thumb rubbing against the bone that protrudes there. It takes every ounce of control to not crawl into the crook of this couch and hold her. It would be warm and cozy and completely inappropriate.

I stifle a groan and glance up at her pretty face. Her lashes flutter and her lips curve softly before she rolls onto her back and forces her legs straight into a stretch. One that has her feet pushing down into my leg and her gasping out a startled breath.

Her eyes fly open, and one hand lands on the center of her chest as she regards me with a look of shock. “Fuck me. I was not expecting you to be sitting there.”

“Sorry.” My voice comes out rough, like gravel. “I was trying to wake you up gently. I came to get a few hours of work done.”

Her hands cover her face, and she scrubs it a few times as though trying to get her bearings. “Why are you working on a Saturday?”

“No rest for the wicked.” I continue caressing her ankle, even though it’s now propped on my thigh. “You should know, you slept here.”

Her hands move off her eyes but land on her cheeks, bracketing her face as she stares at me. Clear blue eyes like fucking arrows to my heart.

“Didn’t seem right to sleep in the same room as Ryan.”

I’m hit with an instant sense of relief.

The sentence hangs in the quiet office between us. We both know the meaning, but neither of us elaborates. We both know what happened last night, but neither of us says anything about it. I did apologize to him, but not for kissing her.

“When does he leave?” I ask.

Her tongue darts out over her lips, and she glances away before sitting up. She takes her foot with her as she retreats, and I find myself missing the contact.

“Today.”

All I can offer is a nod. I don’t know what to say. Knowing about him didn’t stop me from kissing her last night. And knowing that they’re over doesn’t lessen my disdain for the guy.

There are a few good reasons I shouldn’t have kissed Rosie Belmont last night.

But Ryan isn’t one of them.

And I refuse to regret kissing Rosie.

Which doesn’t mean I don’t recognize that it can’t happen again. One boss with wandering hands in her young career is probably more than enough.

She sighs as she twists her legs, feet landing flat on the floor as she rolls her shoulders out. “Ugh. Crashing on couches isn’t as cool as it used to be.”

“You could have slept at my house,” I reply.

She responds with an unimpressed look. “Yeah, sure. That would have been great for the optics you’re so concerned about.”

I flinch and gaze away through the windows, watching the fog drifting over the lake. I think about West, but Willa is right—that could be managed. Most of all, I think about the fact she is officially my employee. I’m the one who drew up all the formal paperwork and now there’s a power dynamic even though I wish there wasn’t. And on the heels of the mess at her last job, I don’t want to be another Stan in her life.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

Rosie barks out a laugh and punches me in the shoulder. “I’m not, you dick.” She stands from the couch and bends close, her hand on my shoulder as she whispers in my ear, “And I know you’re lying.”

When I turn to face her, our lips come close. Too fucking close. I drop my gaze to her mouth and watch her tongue slide out in a slow but subtle motion. I almost stumble, rushing to stand up too. Rushing to back away from her.

Rushing to keep myself from doing something I won’t be even a little bit sorry for all over again.

“We can’t do that again,” I say.

“Oh, no?” She crosses her arms and tilts her head, twisting her lips like she’s confused. The expression is totally fake. Her hair is messy from sleep, but leave it to Rosie to not give a fuck. She could wear a paper bag and still walk around like the princess who owns the place.

“No.”

“You’re telling me you’re never going to kiss me again?” I wince as if West might have an ear pressed against the door, then I mirror her position and cross my arms as we face off. “That’s what I’m telling you.”

Her eyes narrow. “What if I ask you to?”

“No.”

“What if I beg you to?”

I can feel the flush on my cheeks and judging by the way Rosie’s gaze flies to the side, she can see it too.

“No.”

She nods, pressing her lips together as though she’s impressed by my restraint. “All right. Whatever you say, boss.”

As she slides her feet into the leather sandals, I start to panic. Because I know her all too well. She’s determined and messy. And she doesn’t back down. From her perspective, I just waved a red flag in front of her.

I didn’t warn her off. I challenged her.

“Rosie. It’s not safe.”

She’s at the door when she turns to face me, her hands pressing against the wood behind her. “What’s not safe?”

“What happened last night. You and me. There’s West. I’m your boss. You deserve a safe work environment. It’s… not a safe bet.”

She nods, but the motion is lined with agitation at the mention of her brother. “Right, well, I should go say goodbye to my safe bet before he leaves.” She spears me with her blue eyes. “See you Monday.”

Then she salutes me and walks out the door without another word.

I don’t work at all. I throw on my swim trunks and torture myself in the cold lake, swimming between the new dock and Rosie’s dock. And I swear I can feel her gaze on me the entire time.