CHAPTER 8 - Rosie

I just stand there in my shop looking at Amon Parrish like he is a stranger. Well, that's not actually right. I look at Amon Parrish like I'm seeing him for the very first time because… well… I just never expected him to be so… romantic.

His ad reads: Rugged and worldly man seeks small-town woman with shining gray eyes and a personality to match. Must love dogs. He is charming, handsome, protective, and part-owner of a suspicious (but entirely legal) elite security service. She is smart, funny, adorable, and a good mother who did not get lucky, but got exactly what she deserved. She can pull off every kind of vintage and if she chooses him, she will never be alone and scared again. If this sounds like you, Gray Eyes, please respond to me, Rugged and Worldly, in the next issue so we can start a public correspondence .

I giggles at the last part. "Amon Parrish?"

"Rosie Harlow?"

"Did you just ask me out using a lonely hearts ad?"

"I did."

"Is this… some kind of gesture?"

"As opposed to…?"

"You don't really want to print this, do you? I mean, it's just a clever trick, right?"

"Well, of course I want you to print it."

"You want the whole world to know you're asking me out?"

"The whole world?" Amon shrugs. "Well, I don't mind if the whole world knows, but my target area is really just Trinity County."

I let out a long breath and suddenly, the world is much brighter than it was two minutes ago. "Do I say yes right now? Or do I have to respond in kind?"

"Well, I really am looking to start a correspondence, but I'm also aiming for a lunch date tomorrow. So if we could just do both, that would be great."

The laugh that comes out of me is a bit shocking. Not just because it's loud, but because it comes with so much happy, I almost can't categorize it.

"So," Amon says. "What do ya say? Lunch tomorrow and a proper response next week?"

"I work here tomorrow until noon or so."

"Well, that works out perfect since noon is the customary time for lunch."

We stare at each other for a moment. I don't know what he's thinking, but I'm thinking that this is just… good. He's good. Despite the fact that I put him firmly into the ‘Scar' category the other day, he's not a Scar. He's not. He's… real. And protective. And while a Scar can be protective, it comes across in all the wrong ways.

Amon Parrish doesn't come across wrong at all. Life is so weird because Amon Parrish was not even on my radar when I woke up this morning and now, he's the only thing on my mind.

I nod. "OK."

He smiles. "OK." Then he looks around. "Take your time finishing up. I'll keep myself entertained."

I let out a breath. "Just let me clean up and we can go."

He knocks his agreement out on the counter with a couple of knuckles and then takes himself over to the wall where I've framed past issues of the Bishop Busybody and starts reading them.

I turn my back, trying to get a hold of myself, then walk over to the press and put a few more letters in place to make it look like I'm working.

But actually, all I can think about is his ad.

And what I might write in response.

I'm locking up the shop when it occurs to me that I have to change before going home. "I have a place here in town," I tell Amon. "Where I keep my dresses. Is it OK if we stop by there first?"

Amon nods. "Sure."

"It's just right down this way, behind the blacksmith." We walk down Goosebeak Alley together in silence, looking around at all the backyard ladies tending their gardens and small animals. But when I stop at the bottom of the three steps that lead to my cottage, I realize that I've never let a man inside before.

Amon says, "This is your place?" like he's both surprised and delighted.

"Yes. I'll just be right back."

Amon raises an eyebrow. "You don't want to invite me in?"

Oh, I blush. I can feel it. "It's just a really small space. And… nothing but dresses, really."

Amon tries to peek in a window, but I've got curtains, so he can't see much. "It's a mystery, huh?"

"No. Not really. It's just… dresses. That's literally it."

Then he's touching me. Well, not me, but my dress. His fingertips have gotten a hold of a piece of lace on my sleeve. "Dresses like this?" And is that a little bit of desire I hear in his voice?

"Yes." I say this, but it's a bit hesitant. "Like this."

"They're pretty. I always liked coming into Bishop just so I could look at all the costumes."

"Do you… want to see them? My dresses, I mean." I add this quickly because his eyes actually flit down to my chest. I try and recover before they flit back up to me again, but only barely manage. "Because never in a million years would I ever have pictured Amon Parrish interested in my dresses."

"Come on, Rosie. It's not the dresses. It's the woman wearing them. And it's not the cottage, it's the woman who owns it. I'm just interested in you, that's all."

Holy shit, he's coming on to me. He really is. I mean, it's not a surprise. I knew this was happening. I just didn't imagine that it would start in my Bishop dressing room. I kinda pictured a drunken night out in Revenant, to be honest.

That is not to say I don't prefer the dressing room to the drunken night out.

"Speechless?" Amon asks. "Really? That was enough to make you speechless?"

"Well…" I huff out a small laugh. "You've taken me by surprise, Amon. I never imagined you as a romantic and those words you just said were truly on the verge."

He grins. "Just the verge, huh? Well, there's room for improvement, I guess."

I… don't even know what to say to that. And because I'm a little bit flustered, I default to manners. "Would you like to come in?"

His grin is wild and his answer is evident.

I quickly turn so he can't watch me get flustered, then go up to the door, unlock it, and open it up. I don't look over my shoulder at him, just walk in and scan the space, trying to see it through his eyes.

"Wow." He comes in behind me, closing the door. "I've never seen anything like this."

I turn and look at him. "Um… thank you. I think that means you like it."

"I do." Amon is still looking around, but now his eyes find mine. "But the thing that's really got my interest up—aside from you, yourself—is that you've got a secret life here, Rosie."

"What? No, I don't. Everyone knows I work in Bishop and wear costumes two days a week."

"I didn't know."

"Yeah, but that's only because you were gone."

"Hmm." He hums this, so it comes out low and growly.

And now what do I do? I can't just… undress. I mean, there's a privacy screen in the one corner, but I've never actually used it for changing because no one has actually ever been in here but me.

But I guess… I could use it. I could just act like it's no big deal that he's in here. First, though, it would be proper to invite him to leave. To give him the choice.

"Well, I guess I should get changed. There's a lot more to taking off these dresses than one might imagine, so it could be ten minutes or more."

Amon looks me up and down, grinning like a boy, probably peeling back the many layers of my dress and petticoats with his imagination. When he meets my gaze, his smile is a smirk. "Do you need any help?"

I stepped right into that one, for sure. But honestly, this is going too fast. I mean, it's not that I haven't been having sex, it's just I tend to do it with strangers in towns outside the Trinity and not with men I've known since childhood and who are handsome enough to star in their own action movie.

But. At the same time, it's exciting. Something right out of one of those historical romance novels where the duke, or whoever, has to unhook the new governess's corset because she can't breathe or something.

I fan myself with my hand. A weird gesture outside of the Revival tent, but also a practiced one, so it's happening before I can stop it.

"It's fine," Amon says, chuckling at my reaction. "I'll wait outside." And then, before I can pull myself together and stop him, he's walking through the door, closing it behind him.

I let out a breath. It's a mixture of relief and regret. Letting Amon Parrish see my private dressing room feels a bit scandalous, but it's a sexy kind of scandalous. The kind that comes charged with the potential for out-of-control emotions. And if he ever comes in here again, things will go very differently.

Because Amon Parrish has got me very hot and bothered and all he did was undress me with his eyes. What would happen if I let him undress me for real? I would probably lose all control. I might even faint, the way I pretend to in the Revival.

I laugh, internally chastising myself for thinking like a teenager. Then start taking off the many layers of my dress and replacing all that with my more typical style—bell bottom jeans and halter top.

I hang everything up, making the room all neat and organized, and then pause at the door to take one final look, picturing the room from Amon's point of view. The dresses, the petticoats, the undergarments. Even the shoes and parasols.

And that chaise longue right there in the center of it all.

I imagine what it might be like to lie on that smooth, silk velvet with Amon Parrish on top of me and get lightheaded again.

But I shake it off, go outside, and meet him at the bottom of the porch, my modest Colonial fa?ade tucked away until tomorrow and my McBooms persona taking over.

Amon nods at me as I walk up to him. "I like this version too, ya know. I like all your versions, Rosie."

"Oh, my God, Amon. Calm the fuck down. They're just clothes."

He laughs. Probably at my change in personality. I guess I never thought about how much I transform every time I put on a new costume. "The clothes are all nice. But Rosie, it's just you I like."

I fall in next to him and we start walking down the alley, heading towards the edge of downtown. "OK, I guess it's all out there now. So let's talk about this. You've been back for over a month now and you've never looked at me twice."

"That's not true. I checked you out pretty hard that first week. You were the first person I saw when I got back. Remember? In the Rise and Shine getting coffee?"

"I do. That's right. But you were never interested enough to get all flirty with me until you saw me in my Bishop dress."

He clicks his tongue. "It's a good look on you. I might even go so far to say that life in Bishop suits you better."

"But why do you think that? This is a real question because to me, it's just another role to play."

"Oh, come on, Rosie. You're not playing a role here."

"What do you mean? Of course I am."

"There's no audience. It's just you and that printing press in that little shop. It's just you and those dresses in that little cottage. You're not doing this for anyone but yourself."

"Hm." He's right. And I already knew this because every time I start to feel a little guilty about coming here and spending money on the print shop and the cottage I justify it with happiness. "Is that a bad thing? That I do all this for selfish reasons?"

Amon glances down at me. "Of course not. Why would it be?"

"Well, when you explain it the way you did, it feels like maybe I'm hiding from something."

"That's not how I mean it. I was reacting to how natural it all was. And how you seem to really like the dresses and the old-fashioned shit they do here."

We've reached my car so I stop and turn, leaning against it. I have no idea where he parked his truck. "I do like the dresses. I like how slow it is. I like how people try hard to be polite and friendly. And it's not that Disciple isn't like this, because it is. It's just… different. I can't really explain it."

Amon agrees. "I know what you mean. Disciple is… entertainment. It's like ‘friendly and polite' had a baby with ‘fantastic and peculiar.'" This makes me laugh right out loud as he continues. "Revenant is kind of the same way. But Bishop is…"

"The ordinary," I fill in for him. "The usual."

"The mundane, amplified to a level of…"

" Extra ordinary."

"Exactly." He points at me. "It's fuckin' weird how things go around in a circle like that. Echoes of each other. One extreme to another, some might say. I mean, people wanting cows in the backyard phased out a hundred years ago with the invention of the milkman because they're too much work, ya know?"

"But the people who come here to visit, they eat it up, don't they?"

"Doesn't everyone want to try their hand at milking a cow if they know they don't have to get up every morning at dawn and do it because it's mandatory?"

I laugh. "I don't mind milking a cow every now and then for fun, but I do not want one in the backyard."

"That's my point."

"So it's all just… romanticized." I sigh. "I like it here because it's fake."

Amon turns to me with a small smile on his face that is mostly filled with sympathy, not happiness. "It's not fake, Rosie. It's… a dream. And doesn't everyone wish they could spend two mornings a week inside their dream?" When I don't say anything, he continues. "Anyway, I'm parked over there. When I come up behind you, pull out and I'll follow you home."

It all suddenly feels a little ridiculous. Him acting like I need a bodyguard or something. "You don't need to, Amon. I'm fine. I drive the highway between here and Disciple by myself all the time."

"I'm not doing it because I need to, Rosie. I'm doing it because I want to." Then he turns, fishing his keys out of his pocket, and heads down the street where his truck is parked.

I watch him for a few moments before getting in my car, stunned and amazed that he and I are here already. Talking about dreams and… other things that just didn't get said.

When he pulls up , I pull out, and he follows me all the way into Disciple. I park in front of McBooms, but Amon doesn't find a spot. Just sits in the middle of the road, idling with his window down like we've got unfinished business.

"The letter?" he says. "The one in your purse?"

"Oh, right." I fish it out and hand it to him. "The other one is at the house. Do you need it right now?"

"I think these two will do. So…"

"Tomorrow?" I ask, hoping he didn't forget.

Amon nods, kinda hypnotizing me with those blue eyes of his. "Noon. I'll pick you up at the print shop."

"But I gotta change before our date. Pick me up at the cottage."

Amon shakes his head. "The print shop. Noon." Then he salutes me, like he might one of his buddies, and takes off down the road, his truck rumbling along like the thunder that comes just before the glory.

The next day at the Busybody flies by because it's Wednesday and I've got so much to do in order to get my prints ready and it doesn't help that I'm completely distracted by my date with Amon this afternoon. I must read his ad a million times while I set the type. She is smart, funny, adorable, and a good mother who did not get lucky, but got exactly what she deserved . That's my favorite part. And I love that he put it in there because it's a sign that this isn't just some one-night thing. He said those same words to me at the diner the other day. And if he's repeatin' them, then he was sincere.

And this means the world to me.

I want to get everything done before he gets here, including stuffing and mailing envelopes, so I came in two hours early and still the time ticks off so fast, I'm barely back from the post office when the little bell above my door jingles.

I turn to look and have to catch my breath. "Amon? Is that you?" It is, of course, but I have to ask because he's wearing a full Bishop summer costume of breeches, boots, and waistcoat and coat. Which, like Disciple, isn't precisely historically accurate but comes close enough. He's all color-coordinated in varying shades of gray, including bits of smoky blue, which complements my own silver-pink ensemble.

Amon's smile could brighten a pitch-black room, it's that lively. "Surprise?"

Oh, my God. He's… well, I'm not sure there is one word that could accurately describe Amon Parrish all dressed up like a Bishop gentleman because handsome just doesn't cut it. He's… everything. "Did you dress up like this for me?"

He makes a face. "What do you think, Rosie? Why else would I be wearing this outfit?"

I smile, then bring my fingertips up to my lips so I can chuckle.

"Do I look ridiculous?"

"Ridiculous? No, Amon. You look positively… fetching ."

He laughs now too. "Fetching?"

"Well, I'm trying to stay in character here. But if you'd like the Revenant version of that word, it would be… fuckable."

He laughs again. "I'll take either." Then his eyes slowly glide down my dress. Like he's studying every bit of my body. "Speaking of…" His eyes find their way back up to meet mine. "I really like you in these dresses, Rosie. Of course, I like you in all the outfits you wear, so maybe it's just you I like."

I sigh, fanning myself like I'm in church. But the fact is, he is kinda making me hot. "You're charming, Amon. I always did know that. But you have definitely been upping your game since high school. How do you not have a wife already?"

"Oh, that's an easy one. I was waiting for you, of course."

Which is a lie, because we never had no interest in each other as kids. I was too young when he left, not to mention pregnant. So I tsk my tongue at him and shake my head.

"Do you need any help with anything, Rosie? Or are you ready to go?"

"We're going out like this?" I pan my hand down my dress. Of course it's kind of a dumb question because he's here, dressed up in costume, which makes it obvious that we are. But I'm just surprised, so it comes out before I can think it through.

"I've got a table reserved at the Ordinary."

"Oh." I smile, pressing my lips together. An ‘ordinary' restaurant in Colonial times would be just that. Ordinary. But in Bishop, the Ordinary is a special place that tourists need reservations for well in advance because unlike the Bishop Inn, everyone is in costume, including the guests.

It's a requirement. It doesn't matter if they rent their attire from a shop just outside downtown or have them specially made by one of the seamstresses and tailors in the Trinity County area, but they must show up in period-appropriate attire or they do not get through the door.

I've never actually been inside the Ordinary because… well… I dunno why. I guess no man ever thought to take me there.

Until now.

"Sound like a good plan?"

I nod my head at Amon, feeling a little bit like a lovestruck teenager. Which is a foreign feeling to me since it's been twelve years since I've felt that way. "Sounds like a perfect plan, Amon."

He holds his arm out for me and I come around the counter and take it. Then he leads me out the door and we walk through downtown Bishop looking like a piece of history.