by Sabre, Mason
“Angry?” His sexy smile said that was not even possible. “You’re very cute when you’re nervous.”
Cute? Before she could wonder if that was good, he moved a little until his entire side touched against hers, sending his body heat through the summer dress. She felt a press of warmth across her back and realized he held the rail on the other side of her. He wasn’t technically holding her, but her body said shut up, yes he was.
She looked down at her feet, holding the rail tightly behind her. Organize your thoughts. Get it together. Even as she tried, her mind showed her the image of the two of them, standing there, side by side like a modern day Cinderella couple. The midnight bell tolling in her mind like an hourglass of doom.
Her sabotage instincts kicked into gear and she blurted it all, ready to bring her dreams crashing down. “My mother called today and she’s coming to visit me and I lied to her and said you were my boyfriend and that we shared the same home.” She held her breath, her eyes clenched tight as she waited for the dream to explode, blow up, vanish.
“You said I was your boyfriend?”
“Oh my God,” she cried, covering her face. “I’m sorry,” she said behind her hands, “I know that was wrong but my mother is a,” she yanked her hands down and looked at him. “If you knew her … why are you smiling?” she paused in confusion.
He chuckled and shook his head while moving his hand on the rail, forcing her tighter to him. “What other naughty lies did you tell, Rosie?”
Her stomach fluttered. He didn’t sound very upset in the least, and the way he stressed naughty ... almost like he … may have liked everything she’d just said. “And I … I told her you … were a doctor.”
His instant laughter rang out. She stared at him, waiting for the response, the real one that followed the laughter. She was pretty sure none of what she’d just said was funny. Even a little.
“And I told her we live together,” she reminded. “Me and you. Together.” Why wasn’t he getting the weight of that? The reality?
He angled a grin at her, making her feel like he wasn’t hearing her at all. “So let me get this straight. You told your mum that you live with me.”
“But not shacked up,” she hurried, remembering that part. “Like friends. Roommates.”
“But we’re dating?”
“Yes?”
“Okay, so we live together, but we don’t sleep together?”
“We don’t … have sex.”
“We live together, maybe even sleep together, but we don’t have sex. And what sort of doctor am I?”
“I never said.” She still eyed him closely, trying to understand his reaction and where he was headed with his questions.
“I get to pick what kind of doctor I am?”
It finally hit her. He was going along with it. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “You’re not angry?”
“God no,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m flattered, actually. That you would pick me to co-star in this little production of yours. Will there be cameras? Have you come up with a title for your soap opera?”
Relief made her erupt in a huge laugh as she shoved him with her shoulder. “This is a huge production, I assure you. I forgot to mention my sister, Miss Me So Fine America will be coming with her.” She eyed him to see his reaction to that. “She’s married,” she couldn’t help but pathetically throw in.
“Ah that’s too bad,” he said, stealing Rosie’s breath. “I was looking forward to making her jealous. Do I get to pretend like I’m your boyfriend in front of them?”
Rosie stared at him, speechless. She wanted to believe him so bad but it all felt too good. Way too good. “I’m not joking, Josh. I can’t believe you’re not pissed at least a little,” she said, still sure he had to be.
“Why would I be? I think it’s probably my first time being involved in this type of criminal activity.”
She shook her head slowly at him then snickered. “I don’t really have to live there; I just need to make it look that way.”
“I was actually needing a roommate.”
“You shit me,” she said, shocked.
“I’m not. And did you know I’ve always wanted to be a doctor? I’ve got some schooling under my belt too.”
Rosie gasped, smiling. “Wh-what … like what kind of doctor?”
“Philosophy.”
“Doctor of philosophy? They have doctors for that?”
He laughed like she was just the best medicine ever. “Yes, they do.”
“Wow. I probably knew that at one time.”
“Probably,” he said, a smile in his voice. “But if you want a more common doctor title, I can pick another. Gynecologist?” He winked.
“Nooooo,” she said, shaking her head in shock and panic.
“I’m kidding. Doctor of philosophy it’ll be. That okay?”
Rosie nodded, relieved. She could just imagine her mother’s face at that. Wait no. Lacey’s face … maybe not face. She’d be opening her slutty legs and asking for a check-up. Philosophy was fine. Intelligently sexy. “She can take it or leave it, I don’t care.”
“You don’t?”
Rosie realized how stupid that sounded with her drama production. “I assure you I do not care,” she said. “I’m doing this to get my inheritance. She’s hanging it over my head like a sick lab worker person dangling cheese before the starved lab rat, making me run the maze, run the maze then when I do, she only gives me a little crumb.” Rosie ran a hand through an imaginary puzzle before pointing rapidly to her chest. “I’ve earned my cheese, don’t even think I haven’t. But now I don’t even care about the damn cheese anymore, I’ve lived without it this long.”
She slowly sagged in the silence as she heard the contradiction. “Maybe I can use a little cheese,” she admitted, angling her eyes toward him. “England is not friendly to American rats you know. No offense.”
“I don’t have a lot of cheese, but I’m more than happy to share with you.”
Her heart jerked in her chest and she looked at him.
He stared back for many seconds. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head slightly. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve never.” She narrowed her brows, fighting back emotion. “Thank you Josh.”
He shrugged and looked down at his feet. “It’s just cheese.”
“I honestly don’t care about cheese,” she said.
“I loathe the cheese. But we do need it to survive.”
“Yes,” she conceded, depressed at her situation. “I was supposed to be a lot farther along on my little adventure here.” She gave a little shiver when a gust of wind blew against them.
His warm hand slid over her arm a few times. “I’ll help you, Rosie.”
She shot her gaze up to his face and her heart pummeled her chest.
“What now?” he wondered smiling down at her.
“You just sound like …” She lowered her head and pushed hair behind her ear. “Just somebody.”
“Who?”
“Just a friend.”
“Hmm,” he said, giving light nods.
“What?”
“Not so sure I can tolerate you having other guy friends while we date.”
A smile slowly took over her face and entire body, making her giddy. “You’re a possessive boyfriend?”
He angled a look at her. “Very.”
Her smile faded a little at the serious tone and look on his face. “You’re very good at this,” she said. “I don’t have another boyfriend.”
“So this other person is just a friend and a guy?”
“He’s … he’s more than that, but not?” she tried, holding her shoulders up in hopes he understood what she meant.
Josh snorted, shaking his head again. “Sorry, none of those either.”
She giggled. “William is harmless.”
“William? William? Sounds like a girl’s blouse.”
Rosie shoved him hard. “Don’t say that, William is a beautiful sou
l.”
“And definitely no beautiful soul friends,” Josh said emphatically.
“What kind of male friends am I allowed?” she wondered, fighting not to laugh.
“Does the none kind work?”
Her laughter shot out. “I guess it has to.”
“And the same for you,” she said, holding her breath and waiting for the dream to shatter.
“Having more than you would be unthinkable.”
“Is that an insult?” she laughed. “I can’t tell, no fair.”
“Do you always take everything a person says in the worst way possible?”
She nodded with wide eyes. “Yes. I told you that.”
“When is your lovely family coming, anyway?”
She winced up at him. “Next week which could be Monday with her.”
“She didn’t say? My God, my home is hardly ready.”
“I can come help get it ready?”
“You most certainly will,” he assured.
Rosie laughed all the while assessing the outcome of this sure catastrophe. Somehow, life had shot its usual canon sized lemons at her and this strange new fate had turned it into spiked lemonade that had her feeling drunk.
“And I’m sure we’ll need to go over the specifics of our personal arrangements,” he semi-asked.
“Personal?” she wondered, her heart back to racing at that term. She wanted to get personal with him. Very. Naughty personal even.
“Well, I need to know just how much fun I get to have while pretending to be your boyfriend.”
Her excited laughter boomed out like a teenager talking about boys. God was this really happening? Was she really going to spend the next week with Josh pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend at his house? She fought the happy squeal that raced through her veins and made her smile nearly touch her ears. “Thank you,” she finally gushed in relief. Relief of so many things.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned, turning a half smile at her.
“I do thank you. Even if it flops, I thank you,” she whispered, suddenly emotional again. Oh shit, suddenly very emotional. She fanned her face. “Sorry, I just …” She nodded and wiped her eyes. “Don’t get so many breaks in life, or good friends, you know?”
Josh’s arms were suddenly around her, holding her to his warm body. The amazing feeling overwhelmed her as she absorbed the rush of it. “Let’s go home,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to make you a grilled cheese sandwich.”
Rosie’s laughter shot into his chest while her hands refused to stop touching the muscles along his back.
“You can finish that massage later,” he teased.
“Shit, right,” she gasped, pulling away.
“I do think we might need a touching rule.”
Oh God. She eyed him to see his face, to see if he was as serious as he sounded.
“It’s a joke,” he helped, grinning like he might love her insecurity. “Kind of. As in, I’m very sure I will need physical boundaries.”
She was back to giddy smiles at the compliment. “I’m sure we can both behave.”
“Speak for yourself,” he said before raking a hand through his cute short hair and making it stand up on one side. “You remember where I live?”
“I do.” She could probably get there with her eyes closed.
“Good. Get your things.” He met her eyes briefly and lowered them with a smile. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t be late. I’m a jealous and paranoid boyfriend.”
She bit her lip while hugging herself. “Okay Dr.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Josh
Josh’s stomach twisted with cold relief and the feeling of oh my god. She was coming to his home. His home. William thrashed around for the helm in his mind, pushing at him. He’d been doing that a lot lately where Rosie was concerned. They’d become separate entities fighting over the reins of the body. Will we cut shit out of our arms tonight because a pretty woman wants to come to the house and we know she’ll leave? Or will we smile, grab her hand and lead the way with nothing but confidence?
No way was Josh going to let William near her, though. Sure as shit, he’d find a way to fuck it all up. Josh would be the one to hold her hand as she walked into his life. He wanted to hold it now as she went ahead of him, a slight skip in her step. He was on air himself, his mind as giddy as a boy who had just asked the popular girl out and she had said yes.
Rosie had parked her car at the bottom of the bridge. An old thing. Did her family really have money? If they did, why were they letting their daughter travel around in something that could be labelled hazardous?
Rosie unlocked the driver’s door and opened it. It squealed loudly and Josh laughed. “I forget, is that Harry or Larry?”
She stared at him with a frown on her face.
“The dinosaurs in your door?”
She let out an open mouthed laugh. “God you remembered.”
“Course I did.”
“Larry, I think,” she said, standing in thought.
William grabbed the top of the door and rocked it back and forth, sending metal on metal shrieks through the quiet evening.
Rosie fought to hold it still. “Stop it,” she laughed.
“Shush.” He removed her hands from the door and leaned his ear in. “It’s talking to me. Telling me all your secrets.” He nodded, pretending to have a conversation as he made the door squeal and creak.
“Josh, stop it,” she cried breathlessly laughing. “It’s not funny.”
He straightened, solemn. “Poor Harry.”
“Larry.”
“Oh, so you remember his name?”
Rosie grabbed the door, tight with both hands. She planted her feet with a serious expression on her face, but the light in her eyes, the laugh just behind them, threatened to break in a moment. Her lip quivered in effort to hold a firm line of adamancy.
“This is how it’s going to be, is it?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He rested his hands on top of hers and gently shook the door. “Spoilsport girlfriend? You going to be one of these girlfriends who makes me stand up straight, wear the right clothes? Make me call our first born Bartholomew? You’ll have me answer the phone saying, Smyth Residence?”
“Your surname is Smyth?” she asked, widening her smiling eyes at him.
“No, but sounds better than Carter ... or maybe you’ll have me say Cartier?” he said in his best posh accent, sticking his nose in the air, shoulders straight.
“Yes,” she giggled. “That’s the one, and I’ll have you say, bloody marvellous and jolly good mate, at everything we do.”
It was so nice to see her smile. It was so nice to feel his own smile, genuine—it allowed him for a moment to feel joy inside, real joy. “Shall I meet you back at mine? I want to stop at the little all-night shop and grab some marigolds.”
“Marigolds?” she angled her head. “Flowers.”
“No.” he busted out laughing. “You know, gloves that you wear … to wash up?”
Her frown deepened.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Just meet at mine?”
She got in her car and pulled the door shut, and then smiled through the window. Josh knocked politely on it, and she rolled it down with giggles and smiles. Bending down, he rested his forearms on the door. He could kiss her right now. He could lean in and do it. Her soft, pink lips, just there. Laughter on them like a fresh morning ready to be taken. He wanted to. He leaned down.
He paused.
He couldn’t just kiss her. He didn’t have that right. Kissing was what lovers did and she was not that. Not yet. Would she even want him if she wasn’t in shit with her parents?
She seemed to want it. Or was that his head playing wishful tricks on him? William misreading things? The pull to her lips created a fight inside his head and ended with him doing nothing. The safe thing.
“Thank you, Josh,” she said, offering a soft smile.
He straightened, fightin
g the urge to just touch her somehow. But instead, he stepped back and watched her drive off. That was best, he was sure. Whatever her reasons, to use him or truly be his friend, his place was helping someone. Helping was his purpose. And he owed that to sweet Rosie.
He rode his bike home, stopping at the small convenience store on the way. Rosie wasn’t there when he returned, and his chest tightened in fear. She should have been here. She should have beaten him. He pulled to a stop, gripping his handle bars, engine still running. What if she had got lost?
Yeah right. Changed her mind and gone home? Tapping his finger against the throttle of his bike he tried to think like a normal person, not like William.
Text her. She might be lost. It was easy to do when every lane looked the same if you didn’t know the kinks and turns in the roads. He pulled his phone out of his jeans and texted her.
Is everything okay?
He hit send. Headlights lit from behind and he twisted. There she was, smiling and flustered. Josh smiled himself as he lifted the helmet off his head, relief washing through his body.
“I thought you changed your mind or something,” he said cutting the engine as she opened the car door.
“Sorry,” she called. She was all in a tis. Her hair that was neat just before, looked frazzled.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, angling his head.
“Ha funny. People keep asking me that.”
“People?” Josh was confused.
She waved her phone at him. “My friend, William. He just texted me the same thing.”
Josh’s heart thundered in his chest hard enough that it made his head spin. Shit.
“Just let me text him back,” she said. “He worries, I think.”
Josh said nothing. William said nothing in his head either. He probably knew damn well he was using the wrong phone and could have said so. At realizing his phone would alert him, he fumbled to get it out of his pocket and turn the damn sound off as she clicked, clicked, clicked her message to William. Bloody William. He gripped the phone tight. Like he needed to be told anything. He didn’t. Even as he thought that, William stabbed him with an indignant anger.
“There, done,” she said.
The phone vibrated loudly in his hand, yelling out to her, he has it. He has it. But she didn’t notice.