Wild Love: Chapter 28

“You sure you’re okay to go to school today?”

Cora looks at me from the passenger seat, the brick building visible through the window. She went the day after the whole current events debacle, but she seems awfully quiet today. Even what’s become a regular morning call with her mom didn’t perk her up like it usually does.

“Yeah.”

“You just call me or Rosie if something goes wrong. You know we’ll drop it all to be there for you.”

“I know.” She fiddles with her fingers in her lap.

“You can come hang out at the office if you need a day off.”

“No, I should go.”

“I’ve seen your grades, kid. If you need a mental health day, you can take one.”

She nods, nibbling at her lip. Usually she’d have a snarky, funny comeback, but she seems subdued today. “You’ve got bowling tonight? I get movies with Rosie?”

Good god. You’ve got bowling tonight is a sentence I never thought I’d hear.

“Yup. And we can go visit your mom this weekend. We’ll take a trip into the city.”

“Yeah. I’d like that. And I should probably mow the lawn while we’re there.”

I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need to do that. There’s a company taking care of the house.”

Her brows lift. “There is?”

I nod.

“We can’t afford that. You should call them off. It’s okay if the grass gets a little long.”

“Cora.” I take both her shoulders and turn her toward me. “I know you had to pick up a lot of loose ends for a while there. But now, you just need to be twelve. Go to school. Give me dirty looks. Hang out with your friends.”

Her cheeks rise, and she peeks up at me from beneath the fringe of her black bangs. “Consult on an album with Skylar Stone?”

“That seems less typical for a twelve-year-old. But yes. Once the booth is ready, we’ll get her out here. Okay?”

She nods back, serious. “Okay.” Then, “Thank you for having my back.”

Oh god. She looks like she’s going to cry. She and Rosie are going to be the death of me.

“I’m always going to have your back, Cora. No matter what happens. With you. With your mom. You’re kind of stuck with me now. That all right with you?”

She blinks rapidly and nods. Then she drops her gaze and her voice comes out a little watery when she asks, “So you’re not mad at me?”

I feel like I’ve been struck. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because you got called away from work because of me? Because I got in trouble at school? I’ve never been in trouble before. I don’t know why I just blurted it out. Did I embarrass you? You seem… tense since then.”

My shoulders sag as I take her in. This little girl who’s been so grown up for so long. “Oh, Cora. I am so far from mad at you. I’m mad that an adult charged with educating you said what he did. I’m mad we live in a world where people think about women that way. I’m sad Skylar’s being mocked when no one knows what’s going on with her.” I scrub a hand over my scruff and up into my hair. “I’m tense because I feel like I’m juggling a million balls and dropping the most important ones while trying to get it all done. And I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

“What are the most important ones?” She asks it with so much hope. It breaks my heart.

“You. You are the most important one.” And that’s what gets me. This girl needs me, and I feel like I haven’t been as present as I should be—as I could be.

“What about Rosie?” She says it innocently enough, but I’m not oblivious to her subtle comments. And clearly, she isn’t oblivious to whatever is going on between us, either. The handholding might have been a dead giveaway, but I wasn’t ready to let her go. We felt like a team in the principal’s office. And after so long going it on my own, refusing to trust anyone, it felt really fucking good to trust Rosie.

And unlike other people in my life, I know she would never let me down.

“She’s very important to me too. But don’t tell her that.

It’ll go straight to her head.”

Cora smiles shyly at that answer and returns her gaze back down to her hands. I barely hear her when she says, “Can I have another hug?”

It feels like she reached into my chest and cracked my rib cage right open. I just grunt, not especially trusting myself to speak, as I gather her into my arms from across the console. I squeeze her tight, but she squeezes me tighter.

“I miss my dad every day,” she whispers against my shoulder. “But I’m so glad I have you now.”

Then she grabs her backpack and leaps from the car like she’s being chased. I wipe at my nose and chuckle when I watch her peek over her shoulder with a tiny wave. That hot-pink scrunchie the one spot of color in her outfit.

When she’s gone, I’m stuck driving back to work. Worrying about Cora. And obsessing over Rosie and her white fucking panties.

It’s all too much. I like things orderly. And my life is now full-on chaos.

As I pull up to the office, I can’t help but smile. The old barn has transformed into a really cool space. Everything I envisioned and more. The stone chimney and barn-wood exterior have been preserved, but everything else is shiny and new.

Double-paned windows with black trim. On the side of the building, the sliding doors lead to a sprawling deck facing the lake. A new front door faces the parking lot, black with an ornate antique knocker and a keyless entry lock. The walkway leading to it is accented with trimmed garden beds. Rosie took it upon herself to plant bulbs for god knows what. Knowing her, she may have planted weeds just to piss me off.

Now, I just need the actual studio. The booth. The sound equipment. And I’m thinking a few tiny house-type cabins so artists can use the space as a retreat.

As I’m envisioning houses with old barn siding just beyond the tree line, my eyes land on a truck I don’t recognize.

Curious, I march in through the open sliding doors. And come to a screeching halt as I’m confronted with a feeling I haven’t known well until recently.

Hot. Sharp. Instant.

Jealousy.

Rosie sits at her desk while some guy in white, paint-splattered coveralls and a backward hat leans against the edge with hearts in his eyes. Practically flexing his biceps and giving her his best-in-show spiel like a big, dumb Labradoodle drooling on her desk.

“Good morning!” I announce my presence with a level of faux friendliness that makes Rosie shoot me a suspicious look.

“Hi?” she greets me with pure confusion.

“Who do we have here?” I march right up to the guy with my hand out, ready to death grip the hell out of his.

He takes it and I fake a smile as we shake hands. “I’m Scotty. Bash sent me up to work on painting some walls.”

“All right, Scott. Bash gave you a rundown? Or do you need me to give you one?” I edge in front of him, as though I can block Rosie from his view.

He chuckles. “Oh, nah, man. Scott is my last name. Derek is my first. But everyone calls me Scotty.”

Scotty. I almost roll my eyes. What is it with men in this town who introduce themselves using a nickname when they have a perfectly professional-sounding first name?

“Okay, Derek. Do you need a rundown?”

He looks confused, his almost-baby face scrunching up. “Oh, no, I’m good.”

“Okay, great.” I cross my arms and stare at him.

His gaze flits over my shoulder to Rosie, then back to me. “Okay, great,” he repeats.

And then he’s off, walking back out to actually do something he’s supposed to.

“That was entertaining,” Rosie pipes up from behind me. She’s smiling when I turn to face her, but it drops quickly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She turns and starts clicking on her computer. “How was Cora this morning?”

“Are you still in pain?” I watched her walk around the office gingerly all day yesterday, and today I’m done with it.

“Why? Are you going to give me another orgasm to help?”

“If you ask really nicely.”

That has her eyes snapping up to mine. “Well, Aunt Flo is here, so you probably wouldn’t want to.”

I shrug. “That’s what showers and dark towels are for.”

Her blue eyes go comically wide. “What did you just say?”

“Rosie, I’m a grown-ass man. Your period doesn’t scare me.”

She blinks back at me, pure shock painting her face, and carries on like I didn’t say that to her at all. “It’s just the first couple of days that I feel like shit. Same old. I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”

“Go home.”

She snorts, eyes back on her screen. “No. There’s nothing wrong with me. You already overpay me. I’ll work. You just don’t want Scotty making googly eyes at me while I sit at my desk.”

I don’t want Scotty anywhere near her, but I won’t admit that. “No, I don’t want you working while you’re not feeling well. This isn’t an emergency room. Nothing is so pressing that you need to torture yourself being here. And I pay you in line with industry standards and an amount befitting your level of education.”

She sighs, sounding exhausted. “Ford, women have been working through their periods forever. Stop micromanaging me. When I get home to my shitty bunkhouse and pet mouse—who I think I might name Scotty—I will eat junk food and lie in bed feeling sorry for myself like a big girl.”

Pet mouse?

She really needs to stay at my place.

I turn away, knowing a losing battle when I see one. But not before I toss over my shoulder, “Just because women have been working through their periods doesn’t mean they should be.”

“Knock that off,” she mumbles to my back. “Nice Guy Manager doesn’t sound nearly as cool.”

I can’t help but chuckle as I reach into the pocket of my leather jacket and pull out my keys.

“Where are you going? You just got here!”

“I have an errand to run.” I toss her a wink as I stride out the doors. “I’ll be back later.”

“Wait! Is running errands code for masturbating again? Was it awkward with West there?” She shouts it loud enough that Scotty fumbles his paintbrushes out of the back of his truck.

Her laughter fills the air, and at least that means she’s happy.

And even if it’s at my expense, I’ll take it.

When I return that afternoon after running errands, Derek Scott is still checking Rosie out. I swear the guy is part owl. He can be facing the wall opposite her and somehow turn his head about ninety degrees.

I find myself wishing he’d turn it a little too far as I flop back into my chair. Then I open my email and fire one off to Rosie.

Rosalie,

We should work at the house. These paint fumes aren’t healthy.

Have a happy day!

Ford Grant

CEO and Producer at Rose Hill Records

I don’t look up when her computer pings. And when I hear the whoosh sound of the incoming email, my stomach flips. So lame.

Good afternoon, Dr. Grant,

I think the paint fumes are helping my cramps. So maybe they’re healthy after all! Scotty seems fine. So who’s to say?

All my best,

Rosalie Belmont

Business Manager and Natural Health Consultant at Rose Hill Records

P.S. How were your “errands”? Did you stop by the bank and make another donation? Bet you didn’t even need a magazine this time.

She giggles as I read it, and I catch Scotty drool while gazing in her direction.

Nurse Rosie,

Scotty does not seem fine. He’s a grown man who introduces himself by a nickname that his friends probably called him when he was the high school quarterback here in town.

Get your laptop and say goodbye to the stray puppy dog so he can finish his work.

My errands were fine. I didn’t use a magazine the first time, and if I were to do it again, I wouldn’t need one either.

Have a happy day!

Ford Grant

CEO and Bation-Master at Rose Hill Records

This time I get an unladylike snort out of her before she looks up and mouths across the room, Bation-Master? I knew she’d like that one.

She throws her head back, laughing.

Then she goes back to typing, and I wait with bated breath to see what she comes back with. I swear the tips of my fingers tingle when her email shows up with bold lettering in my inbox.

Dearest Bation-Master,

OMG! Do you really think he was a quarterback?

Also, if you didn’t use a magazine, what did you think about?

Wait, I bet I can guess.

Was it three commas on your bank account balance?

No. Hmm.

Owning a private plane?

Oh! Or a yacht where all the staff have to wear matching polo shirts in a specific country club color, like “salmon” or something equally bland.

No need to respond. Just blink twice from your throne over there if one of my guesses is correct.

All my best,

Rosalie Belmont

Business Manager to the Bation-Master at Rose

Hill Records

When I finish reading, I look up at her. Unblinking. Then I pick up the pen and tap it against my mouth like I’m thinking hard. Her eyes catch on it and recognition kicks in.

That’s when I bite down on it and send her an honest email back.

Rosie,

I thought about you.

-Ford

When I chance another look, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are fixed on the screen. I chew on the pen harder, waiting for her to say something or to react in some way. But her phone vibrating on the wooden desktop steals her gaze.

Worry flashes on her face, and she reaches for it abruptly.

“Cora? You okay?” Her mouth pops open and closes a few times. “All right. Do you want me to—” Her eyes flash up to mine, and I’m already standing, walking over to her desk. “Okay. I mean, he’s not dumb. He’s going to know something is up.”

Alarm bells ring in my head as Rosie and I face off.

Cora.

“Yep. Just stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

She hangs up and I’m immediately on her. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t she call me?”

Rosie is up, packing her things. Grabbing her laptop. Heading toward the door in a true rush. “She begged me not to tell you. But you should be happy. I think I’ll go work from your house today, after all.”

I follow her out onto the porch. “Rosalie, so help me⁠—”

“Ford.” Her eyes are serious as she searches my face. “She might need a little privacy in the coming days, and you’re going to need to respect that. But I need to get into your house and grab her some fresh clothes. If you can’t figure out what’s going on based on all that information, then you are dumber than Scotty looks.”

Oh god.

I felt unequipped this morning, but now?

“Figure it out yet? Ya girls are all synced up. So be cool, Dad.”

I bristle to cover my shock. “I am cool.”

She reaches forward and yanks the pen out from behind my ear where I propped it. “Not when you do that. Plus, I think this pen is mine.”

She turns to walk away, but it doesn’t stop me from landing one parting shot. “Sure tastes like it.”

And again, we go our separate ways to the sound of her laughter.