Chapter 7

seven

B riar

I lie in bed and assess the damage done on the first day of an internship.

One: I left the property with Esme after Frye told me that was against the rules.

Two: Esme broke the law by driving a car without a license.

Three: We missed dinner.

Four: She ate tons of sugar, which is no doubt objectionable to the nutritionist.

Five: She fucking stole a car — which nobody needs to know about because I stupidly forgot to get the keys back from her.

Six: She got a tattoo. While that was not expressed as against the rules, I’m pretty sure Frye is gonna freak the fuck out on that one.

I’m toast.

“Way to go, Briar. You are officially the worst intern in the history of interns.”

Let’s face it. Esme doesn’t need an intern. She needs a no-nonsense Victorian governess. That is not what I signed up for.

I thought I could pivot. I thought I could handle any curveballs thrown my way. I know who I am. I’m a badass.

Despite everything that happened tonight, I smile to myself as I take in my surroundings. Look at me. I’m still here. I got to meet Esme Fucking Bryant. I toured the castle. I am sleeping in a bed that no one has slept in in probably decades. What a story I’ll have to tell my suite mates when I go back to college!

My phone pings, startling me out of the staring contest I’m currently having with the canopy hanging over me.

Maybe that’s one of my suite mates now.

Hey, you didn’t let me know if you made it home safely.

How are you even in my contacts?

I have my ways.

That’s either very comforting or very disturbing.

It’s your best bet to go with disturbing.

Not a lot of guys would admit their behavior is creepy. Points for that.

Wait. Points for what, exactly?

It’s not like I’m considering dating him. He’s from here. I’m about to be fired. However I did give him that kiss, so it’s entirely my fault if he’s taken that to mean something it’s not.

We’re safe and snug. Esme had a big day, and she’s tuckered out.

And you? Am I keeping you awake?

Nah. It’s pretty much over for me here, so I’m just scrambling, trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the semester. I gave up my job on campus to come here.

Don’t give up yet. Esme likes having you around. I can tell. She won’t let that house manager fire you. She’s in one piece, and the house is still standing. How dire could it be?

How do you know the castle isn’t in pieces?

Because I’m looking at it.

I drop my phone on the bed as all the hair on the back of my neck stands up straight. I practically fly from the bed to the window facing the main driveway. I throw open the curtain and look down.

Rowan’s truck is there, parked behind my rental. His tall frame leans against the side, and he stares up at my window and waves.

My bare feet don’t register the cold stone corridor as I sprint from my room to the stairs. I push through the front doors and take the steps at a run, my toes now numb from the cold.

“Whoa, slow down, Briar.”

“What are you doing here?” I hiss. “How did you get through the gate?”

“Uh,” he starts, gazing at my chest and then glancing away. Even in the moonlight, I can see him blushing. I look down and see that I’ve forgotten to put on a robe over this flimsy nightshirt, and the outlines of my tight nipples show through the material.

Instinctively, I cross my arms over my breasts.

He still looks away as he explains, “Second question first. I got lucky and the gate responds to emergency strobe lights.”

“You used the emergency light on your truck to stalk me?!” I squeak.

He doesn’t reply at first, just looks at me sheepishly.

“Well?” I ask.

“I needed to see you.”

“Why?”

He finally meets my gaze, and we stare at each other for a moment. Rowan showered since I saw him last. He no longer smells like a bonfire, and he wears a clean black tee shirt that sets off the honey in his damp hair. The clean scent coming off him is begging me to get closer. And then, this thought: he showered…for me.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About that kiss, for starters.”

I play it cool. “I meant to only hug you but I got carried away. I was really relieved and grateful. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s the long and short of it.”

“Oh.”

“Was there something else you needed?”

“I wanted to get to know you.”

“You wanted to get to know me in the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you a firefighter?”

“Yeah, so?”

I enjoy giving him shit. “What if there’s a fire and you’re not there?”

“I’m not on call tonight or tomorrow.”

“You couldn’t have texted me in the morning.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I needed to see you now.”

This might be the most infuriating and confounding man I’ve ever met. He simply refuses to be knocked out for the count.

And what is with the dopey grin on my face? “I’ve met a lot of weird people today, but you are the weirdest by far.”

“I’m actually pretty normal.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I play fantasy football. I drink black coffee. I don’t know what a real housewife is, but I’ve watched all of Grey’s Anatomy. I have six nieces and nephews and on everyone’s sixth birthday they get a ride on the fire engine. I roast the turkey every Thanksgiving, and on Mother’s Day I take my grandmother to brunch at the Rushmore Hotel in Gold Hill.”

I hold up my hands. “OK, stop. You don’t have to give me your padded résumé.”

“Padded?” Rowan laughs.

I glare at him but can’t wipe the smile off my face. He laughs. “God, you’re freaking adorable.”

I sigh, wishing that comment didn’t feel so good. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

I don’t mind him knitting his fingers through mine as we stroll toward the creek.

“So what will you do if you end up getting fired, which I don’t think you will, by the way.”

I’ve spent a lot of time tonight thinking about this.

“I’ll go back to Bloomington and beg for my job at the library, I guess. Wait out the semester, then re-enroll after Christmas, and I hope to get enough credits together to make up for what I’m losing. Rethink my entire final research paper, and scramble for another internship.”

Rowan is thoughtful for a moment. “What’s Bloomington like?”

I laugh, “You followed me all the way here to ask about Bloomington?”

He stops on the footbridge.

“I followed you here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you from the moment I saw you at the festival today.”

I give him a saucy look. “So you’re just following me around for my looks, huh?”

“I like the way you looked. Sure. But I’m following you around because I liked you even more after we talked. I just knew there was something special about you, and I wanted to explore that specialness.”

If he’s trying to sweep me off my feet, he’ll have to do better than that. I don’t care if my knees are tingling or if he gives me the flutters inside my panties. Any hot guy can do that.

“And now that you have explored some of that specialness?”

Rowan’s fingers release my hand, and the next thing I know, that big mitt spans the whole side of my face. His touch is rough, warm, and solid. “Now? I see you. And I think you see me too. Not everybody understands people like us. But I get you. And I know you have to go back to Bloomington, but dammit, I don’t want you to go.”

Wow. That’s…something.

Ah, hell. I’m gonna be fired anyway; I might as well break the other rule.

I roll up on my toes and lean in. And I wait.

He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face when he speaks. “What, you’re not gonna kiss me again?”

“I’m waiting for you to make a move this time.”

And just before he brushes his lips over mine, Rowan murmurs, “Good girl.”

That warm hand that cups my face drags downward and back, until he’s grasping the entire back of my neck. No one has ever kissed me so fervently before. Soft, and passionate, his teasing tongue promising a whole lot more than kissing.

Rowan’s free hand roams down my spine, down to my hips, up my sides, exploring everything, as if committing my every curve to memory.

I grasp the hem of that clean-smelling shirt as we kiss, needing more closeness.

“Don’t think about touching me, just do it,” he rasps.

He growls low in his chest when my hand roams under that shirt hem, flattening my palm over his abdomen. The soft trail of hair from his lower chest down to the fly of his jeans is a pleasant surprise. For some reason I imagined him being as hairless as a dolphin, but the fuzz is delightful. The more I explore as we kiss, the more he groans.

“Are you gonna touch me, Rowan?” I ask between kisses.

With a growl, he hikes up my nightgown, his hand claiming my lower belly.

The sensation is so new and overwhelming that I pull back from the kiss to catch my breath. I gasp as he drags his hand downward and fingers my white cotton panties.

Just when I think he’s going to go lower, he goes higher, hiking my nightie up as he cups one of my breasts.

Our mouths meet again, his tongue licking the seam of my lips. I open at his urging, and our tongues meet in a slow, sensuous dance as he slides his hand over my breast. Rowan’s fingers toy with my nipple, pulling a moan out of me.

He tastes like spearmint gum and mouthwash, and I smile against his lips. He’s made an effort. And I love effort.

My hand hesitates at the button of his jeans. I don’t want to take it out in the middle of nature. What if a bug bites his left nut and he gets Lyme disease?

“What’s on your mind, B?”

“Let’s go to my room,” I whisper, shivering against him.

“Shit. You’re freezing.” He apologizes as he crushes me against him. “And you’re barefoot. Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” I say, muffled into his chest. Oh yes, he smells even better up close—woodsy soap, the outdoors, and all him—and I inhale every microscopic hormone and pheromone he sloughs off.