30. Dylan

Chapter 30

Dylan

I listened to Rosie’s deep breathing while I lay wide awake beside her. Falling asleep with someone was very intimate. It meant trust and letting down your guard and a willingness to be close to that person. All things I felt in spades as Rosie shifted and tucked her body in even closer to mine. The skin on her arm was soft where she slung it over my stomach.

I caught my breath and held it.

Yet, sleeping was the farthest thing from my mind. Not only because I didn’t want to miss one moment of this, but also because I was a total and complete bonehead for getting myself into this mess.

And mess it was.

Because I was falling for Rosie Forrester.

No, I’d fallen for Rosie Forrester.

While helping her get another man to fall in love with her.

Classic Dylan move , I could almost hear Shiloh saying to me.

With Rosie and I so close together, it was almost too warm under these covers, especially as the storm eased. I could get used to this, though. A cozy, stormy night. Rosie in my arms. The chatter of birds as Winterhaven began to wake up.

Rosie mumbled something in her sleep, and her fingers grazed my side, stealing all rational thought. Man, she was gorgeous. And she smelled like paint and coconut and absolute bliss. Her silky auburn hair rubbed against my shoulder as she tucked her face deeper into my neck. Her nose was cold again.

It had taken hours for her feet and hands to feel warm enough against me that I could finally relax my back muscles and sink into a near-sleep state. Until Rosie had thrown her leg over mine, and any hope of being able to sleep had fled in that instant—along with coherent thoughts and short-term ability to breathe.

The only thing keeping me somewhat grounded was Lizzy, who was not moving one single inch from her warm nest between us. I squinted in the dim lighting to find her almond eyes watching me closely, her head tilted to the side like she could read my mind.

She stretched her long body, pushing Rosie and me another breath apart, like a proper alien chaperone. I’d never admit it to Rosie, but Lizzy was growing on me.

Rosie’s fingers tightened on my stomach and then flew off me in a burst of movement. Her leg unwound from my leg, and her head sprang away from chest like two repelling magnets. Lizzy mewled in protest as Rosie put a couple of inches of space between us, and I missed the closeness instantly.

I stretched out my arm, numb from keeping it under her head most of the night. “Good morning,” I said, my voice scratchy and low from disuse.

Rosie pulled the blankets up to her neck, and I could see a million thoughts whirring behind her eyes. It was one of the things that most fascinated me about her—she wore most of her emotions on her face. I never had to wonder what Rosie was thinking, and right now, it was clear she was figuring out how to play it cool.

“We slept together,” she said as casually as one might comment on the weather.

“Only literally,” I said, though I’d done no actual sleeping.

“Of course literally. What else would I—” Her cheeks turned pink, and I half expected her to hop out of bed and start flitting around. But she didn’t. She had rolled onto her back and was staring up at the ceiling. She gathered more of the blanket around her, pulling it from me as she did. “Thank you. For sharing your bed. And your body warmth.”

“Anytime.”

She looked at me from out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t have a shirt on.”

“Nope.”

“Hm.”

I didn’t know a hm could sound so high-pitched.

“Are you feeling okay? You were drenched last night.”

She pointedly kept her eyes on my face. “I’m okay. Just stressed.”

“Hand me my shirt?” I nodded to the nightstand next to her. She did, then looked away as I put it on. As much as I loved her reaction to seeing my chest—and how much it fed my wounded ego—now was not the time. I swung my legs around and set my feet on the floor, cringing when they met dampness.

“What?” Rosie sat up quickly, and Lizzy whined with the loss of someone to snuggle with.

“The floor is wet.”

We both looked toward the wall, where the water had seeped in from next door. Rosie’s eyes widened. “I wonder if it leaked into the shop too.”

She yelped when her feet hit the cold water next.

“Wait,” I said. “It took all night to get those things warm.” I tossed her a pair of socks from my dresser. “I’ll carry you to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

I picked her up and her arms flew around my neck, tightening as I navigated around the bed, attempting to find dry spots.

“You’ll come save Lizzy next, right?”

I didn’t respond, but we both knew I was going to save Lizzy next. At some point in the night, I realized that her low trilling of a purr was somewhat calming. But that didn’t mean I liked her or anything.

“You’re just like one of my brothers,” she said, her voice bright and cheery, her smile too wide for me to believe it was real.

I lowered her gently to the futon but kept my mouth close to her ear. “Rosie,” I growled, “I am nothing like your brothers.”

As I pulled away, Rosie shivered, and I hoped it wasn’t just because she was cold.

Rosie and I stood at my parents’ door a few hours later with my hand poised to knock.

I had crossed countless mental hurdles to get to this point.

Bennett was out to sea, and Rosie had misplaced the spare key to his house. Both apartments were uninhabitable and would be for who knew how long. The restoration company couldn’t assess it until tomorrow, but damage like that was going to take weeks—if not months—to fix. Lily and Rosie would quite possibly throw hands if we showed up at her house. Rosie’s tool of a dad was still squatting at her boathouse. And I refused to ask Max if we could (to quote Rosie) “roll out a couple sleeping bags in the local author section while this all got figured out.”

Apparently there were some things worse than begging my parents for help.

It was unlikely they’d refuse, especially with Rosie by my side. But still I hesitated. I had taken pride for so many years in not needing their help. I’d gone through the hardest things in my life and hadn’t turned to them.

But one forlorn look from Rosie later, and here I stood, ready to beg them to take us in. At least I didn’t have to face them alone.

“The door won’t bite you,” Rosie whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“You don’t know that.”

Rosie shook her head and reached past me to knock.

A few moments later, Mom threw the door wide open. Her eyes lighting up was a punch to the gut. It was clear that Mom was excited to see me. Yet, I’d taken so little effort to spend time with her since getting home. And I still wished any of the other options Rosie and I had brainstormed had worked.

Maybe Lily and Rosie fighting would have been cathartic for their relationship. We should have at least tried it.

Mom ushered us into the house and gave Rosie a lingering hug. She then looked at me like she wasn’t quite sure what to do. I always thought Mom wasn’t much of a hugger, but she’d folded Rosie into her arms like it was second nature.

I took a halting step toward Mom just as she started to turn. Then she swiveled to face me again as I bent down to pick up mine and Rosie’s bags. The two-step of: Should we hug or not? It would have been funny if I’d been watching it from the outside. But living it, it just felt sad.

With some resolution, I met Mom halfway. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick side-hug. Mom didn’t move an inch as if afraid I’d flee if she made any sudden movements.

“Hey, Mom,” I said.

Mom nodded, and then pulled away and bustled toward the kitchen, where Rosie had disappeared to. “Lunch is about done, if you’re hungry.”

I set our bags by the couch and put down Lizzy, who’d been tucked up into the bundle in my arms.

Yes, I was a sucker.

Lizzy squealed in protest, so I took Rosie’s sweater peeking out from the top of her bag and wrapped it snuggly around Lizzy. She burrowed completely inside of it, disappearing into the fabric.

Rosie was washing her hands at the kitchen sink, relief spreading across her face. I joined her and hissed when the steaming hot water burned me, which caused her to laugh.

Mom tried to not-so-obviously watch us as I flicked some of the water onto Rosie’s cheek.

She stirred some delicious smelling stew in steady rhythms. “So what brings you here?”

“Rosie’s ceiling caved in.”

“What?” The spoon stopped moving.

“Last night, while I was sleeping.” Rosie dried her red hands on the dish towel next to the sink.

“We were hoping to use your electricity. And maybe your shower? And a couple of guest rooms?” I dashed a glance at Rosie who, with a teasing glint in her eye, mouthed, Was that painful?

I nodded. Yes. Absolutely. Asking for help had never been easy for me.

“Of course,” Mom said. “Rosie, the shower is upstairs, first door on the right.”

Rosie walked past me, snagged her bag, and bounded upstairs without a single glance back. I guess I knew where I stood when it came to choosing between saving me from awkwardness and a hot shower.

Mom motioned for me to take a seat at the dining table, and I realized I’d been staring after Rosie like a besotted alien kitten. Might as well wear a sign on my forehead that said, “I have a crush on Rosie Forrester.”

Mom set a steaming bowl of stew and two buttered biscuits in front of me. My stomach growled loudly. With all the time we spent packing and making phone calls, I hadn’t eaten anything today.

My first bite of the stew was heaven. Tender roast beef, potatoes, and carrots. This was one of my favorite meals, and I hadn’t had it in years. I closed my eyes and savored another bite.

“I’ll get you the honey,” Mom said, sounding pleased. She set it at my elbow, and I wasted no time in pouring it over her homemade biscuits. They were buttery and flaky, and I’d never been able to find anything like them in Montana. And I’d tried.

“We don’t know how long it’s going to take the restoration company to fix the damage to Rosie’s apartments and store,” I said after the quiet had gone on for a few seconds too long. I stared into my bowl, putting together the perfect spoonful of a roast chunk, a potato wedge, and a carrot.

“You can stay here as long as you need. Both of you,” she added, her eyes bright.

“I think Rosie will go to Bennett’s once he gets back in town.”

“Until then, I’ll put her in Lily’s old room.”

Rosie was going to love that.

“We, um, turned your old bedroom into a quilting room”—She winced, but it wasn’t like I’d expected her to keep my bedroom as a shrine to me for so many years—“so you’ll have to sleep out here on the pull-out couch.”

We both turned to look at the threadbare couch in the living room that had been there since I was a child. It was green and fading, sagging in the middle, but my parents rarely got rid of anything.

Except all the furniture in my bedroom. And who could blame them?

“That’s fine. Thank y—”

Mom pushed her chair back with a screech. “What. Is. That?”

I turned to find Lizzy strolling into the kitchen like she owned the place. When she spotted me, she began to whine, as if to let me know she’d been having a very hard time of it.

When had I started speaking cat?

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. It was the lack of sleep making me lose my mind— not any actual softness toward the walking skin bag.

“That is Rosie’s cat,” I said with a sigh. Actually, a double sigh, because I was the sucker that leaned down and pulled her into my lap. Lizzy purred in contentment as she pressed herself closer to me.

“That’s a cat?”

“A hairless one.”

Mom’s brows rose as if trying to make sense of it.

There was no making sense of it.

“I never knew you were a cat person.” Mom watched me stroke Lizzy’s soft ears. She wasn’t completely hairless. She had fine, downy hairs all along her that I’d never noticed before.

“I’m not.”

Mom gave a skeptical look at my hand resting on Lizzy’s back to give her more warmth. Fine. I didn’t even believe myself anymore.

Rosie came downstairs pink-cheeked, her wet hair curling around her shoulders. I missed seeing her in my clothes.

“Bathroom’s open,” she said.

I set Lizzy on the floor and took my dishes to the sink. When I turned to head upstairs, the back of my hand lightly grazed the back of Rosie’s as I passed her. My heart rate kicked up a notch as she pressed her shoulder into me and gave me a smile.

“I saw you holding Lizzy,” she whispered.

“Hm? What? You must be dreaming,” I teased, then jumped out of the way as she went to poke me in the side. I went up the stairs with a goofy grin I was glad no one could see.