11. Chapter Eleven

Rip

I already have so much affection for Rose, but after hearing this heart-wrenching story, I feel an even deeper connection to her. The way she's survived all the difficult aspects of her life is admirable. No one should have to endure what she has.

I shift her in my arms, feeling her relax against me. As I place my lips to her temple, I feel heat gather inside my chest. There's no denying the intense attraction I have for her. Fate has brought us together, perhaps for a reason. Maybe I'm here to help her heal as much as she is here for me.

My eyes fall to the cozy cottage ahead, and I feel pride at knowing she chose to make this her home. I made that choice once, too. But she's in the process of making it her own, and that fact warms my heart.

"Thank you," she whispers, tilting her head to gaze at me. "You make me feel safe."

She's looking at me differently than she has before. Trust. She's looking at me with trust. I feel like the richest man on the planet as I pull her against me, wanting her to feel every bit of my strength and presence. "You are safe with me, Rose. Always."

We continue our walk to the cottage, our hands intertwined, while my mind races. I can't wait to hear more about her life, about everything she's overcome. More than knowing her past, I want to be the one to help her through any challenges she may face in the future.

It's not just about wanting to protect her. I don't want to be her white knight. I want us to be equals. To do that, I can't just barge ahead, pressuring her for intimacy.

She's just beginning to trust. I don't want to botch things. Rose is too important. A smile widens on my face as I vow to take things in a different direction.

Instead of being the man I was before my long nap, the Rip who could be selfish, I'm going to ensure that things go slowly.

I tug her off the rough path toward a little grove of wild roses. They're not nearly as beautiful as the hothouse varieties, but they have their own appeal. Besides, I imagine she'll think they smell divine.

I pick a few, some pale pink, some vibrant scarlet. Their stems are short, but I take the time to pluck off every thorn, then hand her the little sweet-smelling bouquet. I want to qualify my gift, to tell her I wish I could give her more, but before I do, her expressive face lights up with appreciation.

"What a sweet gesture!" She lifts the bouquet to her nose. "I can't wait to put them in water."

"What do you say we eat those frozen dinners you bought and put in the icebox today and then we play a game?"

"No one's called it an icebox for a hundred years. It's a freezer. What game are you thinking?"

I know I've made the right choice in my decision to take things slowly because my simple mention of playing a game makes her muscles tighten. I hear her misgivings in her voice. Does she think I have hanky-panky in mind? Not with her. She's far too precious.

"You've got to have some ideas up your sleeve, or in the magic phone you keep in your pocket. Surprise me."

"You're in luck. If you'd shown up a month ago, we wouldn't have had a TV. I was bound and determined to boycott the entire entertainment industry. Then I saw a stack of old DVDs on the shelf and decided to break down and buy a TV and a DVD player. I was surprised they even make them anymore. They're antiques."

If she thinks a newfangled thing called a DVD is an antique, I can't imagine what she thinks of me. Perhaps she reads my mind, because she happily bops my nose with the tip of her finger before she continues.

"Save some room because instead of a game, we're going to have old-fashioned microwave popcorn and a movie marathon."