Alex stayed stunned and still before she sat forward. “Wow,” she said, blinking a few times. “I’m surprised.”
“Happy surprised?” Rosalie asked, hopeful.
“Yeah,” Alex said, finally letting a hint of a smile creep over her face. “Definitely happy surprised.”
Rosalie felt her stomach settle enough to lift a bite of spaghetti into her mouth. Alex watched her as she did, and Rosalie felt as though Alex expected to say something more.
“So is this a date?” Alex asked, grinning as her gaze flickered down to the meal Rosalie had prepared.
Rosalie tried not to smile too hard as she chewed. Once she swallowed, she said, “If you want it to be.”
Alex rolled her eyes, a glint of frustration tingeing her smile, as though she’d been waiting for Rosalie to orchestrate a date since they’d met.
Rosalie felt her body warm as her agitation turned from anxiety to excitement.
“You’re actually staying in Ashhawk?” Alex said.
Rosalie nodded again, her smile spreading as she thought of getting into a routine with grocery shopping and eating at the local restaurants and curling up with Alex in their spare time. Her idea of small-town life no longer felt confined. It felt calm.
Alex drew her napkin out of her lap and stood. “C’mere.”
Caught off guard, Rosalie remained in her chair until Alex was standing over her expectantly.
Alex reached for Rosalie’s hand to draw her up, putting her other hand around Rosalie’s waist. Bringing her face perilously close to Rosalie’s, she gave Rosalie a deep stare that begged Rosalie not to change her mind. Rosalie stared back, assuring Alex she wasn’t going to.
Alex drew Rosalie into a kiss Rosalie had craved since that weekend at Corte del Cuervo, a kiss undiluted by alcohol or confusion or miscommunication or hesitation. It was potent, and Rosalie was glad Alex held on to her waist so she didn’t sway too far.
Chapter Thirteen
Amenities
At seven o’clock, there was a knock on Rosalie’s door. Opening it, she found Alex on her doorstep wearing a pressed collared shirt open a few buttons at the top and a nice pair of slacks. Her hair had been brushed—Rosalie could tell because the curls were extra poufy—and Rosalie smelled something halfway between perfume and cologne.
Rosalie felt underdressed in her jeans and plain shirt. She looked down and mumbled something before she asked if she could have a few minutes to change.
“No, you look great,” Alex said.
“But you look so nice...”
Alex shrugged. “I figured you wouldn’t want me in my sweaty work clothes.”
Rosalie bit her lip over a small smile. She’d only ever been around Alex in her sweaty work clothes, and she didn’t mind it one bit. Alex’s sweat never seemed dirty to her, only clean and honest with a hint of something like sage.
“If you want to change, you can, but you look great,” Alex said.
Rosalie looked down and held up a finger, deciding on a compromise. She went over to her closet and put on a skirt. She looked a little nicer, but not like she was trying too hard.
When they climbed into the comfortable cab of Alex’s truck a few minutes later, Rosalie asked, “So where are we going?”
Alex started the engine. “I was thinking we could go check out this place in Santa Fe.”
“Santa Fe?” Rosalie had expected they would go to a restaurant nearby, not drive forty-five minutes away for a meal.
“Have you been?”
“No,” Rosalie said, wondering why Gran had never taken her to Santa Fe before remembering Gran hadn’t had someone like Shelley to help her run the hotel.
“It’s nice,” Alex said. “Great restaurants and art. A pretty decent Shakespeare Festival, too. Maybe we could check that out sometime.”
Rosalie studied Alex, noticing the agitated way her hands gripped the steering wheel. Alex was nervous in a way Rosalie hadn’t seen before. For the first time, Alex was trying too hard. When it came to helping Rosalie around the hotel and caring for her when she was ill or upset, Alex was sure of herself, and her words and body language were natural. But she was thinking everything through too hard tonight.
Rosalie thought she knew what was happening, but she wanted to be sure. “Do you have a favorite Shakespeare play?”
Alex shifted her hands on the steering wheel so she could scratch her eye. “Romeo and Juliet was pretty good.”
Rosalie thought about asking Alex if she’d actually seen the play or any production beyond the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio but didn’t want to insult her or make her more anxious.
“I kind of like Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Rosalie said. “The movie wasn’t so good. I don’t think Stanley Tucci was the best Puck.”
Alex took a stiff breath. “Yeah, probably not.”
Rosalie eyed her with a smile. “Did you see the movie?”
“Nah,” Alex said with a nervous smile.
“We can check out the festival if you want, but I’d be just as happy staying in and watching Light My Fire.”
Alex seemed relieved, glancing over at Rosalie.
Rosalie let the conversation settle in the hum of the truck motor as she watched the beautiful desert creep past them as they drove toward Santa Fe.
She recalled when they’d watched Light My Fire together, when Rosalie had been shaky and fatigued and Alex had gone to such trouble to make sure she was fed and hydrated. She’d stifled her enthusiasm about the female firefighters then, but now she knew Alex liked girls, so she decided to let Alex in a little more.
“I have a theory,” Rosalie said.
Alex glanced at her and waited for her to speak.
“I think Jill and Taryn are in love.”
“Jill and Taryn on Light My Fire?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Isn’t Jill dating that guy from the other station?”
“Yeah. But the way she looks at Taryn… I mean, it’s obvious, right?”
Alex glanced back and forth between Rosalie and the road a few times before she said, “I think you deserve lesbians who don’t hide in subtext.”
Rosalie tried to laugh the comment off, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was Alex’s way of coaxing her to be a little less afraid of coming out in Ashhawk.
“Maybe,” Rosalie said.
Alex glanced at her, seeming to understand she’d hit a nerve. “It’s fun to think about, though.”
Rosalie gave her an appreciative smile.
When they arrived in Santa Fe, Alex had calmed a little bit, but she still seemed as though her confidence had been shaken. When she pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car, she immediately jumped down and ran around to open Rosalie’s door for her. Rosalie was surprised but smiled and took Alex’s hand as she slid down. She’d never been courted so formally. Rosalie wondered where Alex had learned that—from her father? Her friends? TV?
Alex offered Rosalie her arm to walk into the restaurant, and Rosalie wasn’t sure how she felt about it. On the one hand, they were in a liberal town and Rosalie wasn’t concerned with what other people might think. But it felt rigid and inorganic for them. They were so at ease when they were sitting around a campfire or sanding a vanity or talking about paint. Doing something so formal felt awkward. But Rosalie took Alex’s arm, knowing it meant more to Alex to escort her than it meant to her to be escorted.
The restaurant Alex had picked was the nicest one Rosalie had been to in a long time. In contrast with the adobe exterior, the inside was a beautiful balance of high-end finishes and industrial materials. Metal and warm wood and rich fabrics were combined in an unlikely but chic palette. Once they were seated, Rosalie thought back to Corte del Cuervo and wondered if Alex appreciated the design the way she did.
“The interior design here is amazing,” Rosalie said under her breath.
Alex looked around, considering with a muted expression. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Kind of remin
ds me of Corte del Cuervo.”
“I guess,” Alex said.
Even though Alex was usually quiet, her anxiety had rendered her difficult to engage in conversation.
“I didn’t do any of the design work,” Alex said. “Malcolm and Logan did all that. I just made it happen.”
“Well, between the three of you, you did an amazing job.”
Alex shifted in her chair, looking at the menu.
Rosalie studied the way Alex was hunched over. She felt a subtle rocking and realized Alex was bouncing her leg, unknowingly shifting the table with every motion. Alex felt uncomfortable with something, and Rosalie was pretty sure it wasn’t her. Without any more information, all Rosalie could do was guess what was bothering Alex.
“Is everything okay with Jason?” she asked. Alex hadn’t gotten a call from him in a while, which could have been good or bad.
“What? Oh, yeah, yeah,” Alex said. “I mean, he’s still using, but what else is new.”
Rosalie nodded slowly, studying Alex as Alex studied the menu with her brow furrowed. “Something else on your mind?”
Alex looked up, as though realizing Rosalie could tell she was on edge.
“Just you,” she said with a smile intended to be reassuring but came across as nervous. She looked down at her menu, frowning again. She lifted her finger and pointed at something.
“Something look good?” Rosalie asked.
“I don’t know what this is,” Alex grumbled. She sounded half annoyed, half embarrassed.
Rosalie leaned forward to see where Alex was pointing on her menu and realized the dishes served at the restaurant were not dishes served anywhere in Ashhawk.
Rosalie recalled their conversation about Shakespeare in the car and realized why Alex was so nervous. She felt something grow bigger in her chest, and an adoring smile swept over her face. She reached forward and took Alex’s hand.
“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice low.
Alex looked up, still bouncing her leg under the table.
“We don’t have to go to fancy restaurants or Shakespeare festivals if you’re not into that stuff.”
Alex gave a timid shrug. “I want to do stuff you like.”
“I would be happy eating spaghetti off paper plates in your truck in an empty parking lot.”
Alex looked skeptical. “Really?”
“Maybe not for every date. But you don’t have to bring me to places like this if it’s not your scene. I like sitting around the campfire with you eating diner food.”
Alex let out a short, relieved sigh. “Okay.” She glanced down at her menu. “I just assumed dating was different in Philadelphia.”
“So I’m a city mouse and you’re a country mouse?”
Alex gave a playful frown. “I know how you feel about mice.”
Rosalie’s smile widened. She finally recognized the girl she liked sitting across from her.
“Can we get out of here and find a diner?” Rosalie said, already leaning forward as though she was prepared to get out of her chair.
“Can we get some ice cream afterward?” Alex asked with a wink.
“All the ice cream you want.”
Alex drove them to a diner, and they slid into a booth. After ordering and chatting with their server for a minute, there was quiet. They both looked around, studying the sad little diner. It wasn’t so different from the one in Ashhawk; flies slid through the air in the same dejected way people slid in and out of booths and chairs, waitresses looked as though they were wilting on their feet, and the same film covered the plastic-covered menus. Rosalie turned away from it, looking out the window, hoping to find something to occupy her mind instead of the ceaseless rumination about her properties in Ashhawk.
She thought back to her meeting with the real estate agent and the proposal from George Tackett still sitting in her inbox. She knew she wasn’t going to sell Hearth, but she didn’t have anyone advising her about the Cocheta property. She sat in silence, toes and fingers tapping randomly to distract from the passing of awkward, silent moments, painfully aware she was being unintentionally rude to Alex.
“Sorry if I’m quiet.”
“I like quiet,” Alex said with a forgiving smile.
“I know. I just feel like I should be talking to you because I like you.”
Alex’s smile stayed constant. “I like you even when you’re quiet.”
“Thanks,” Rosalie said, still flustered. “I like you when you’re quiet, too. Which, I guess you’re always quiet, so all the time.”
“Sometimes I’m too quiet,” Alex said. “People get uncomfortable.”
“Only because they want to know what you’re thinking. Your face doesn’t betray much. I didn’t even know you liked girls for the first month we hung out.”
Alex nodded. “I could say the same for you.”
“I thought I mentioned my girlfriend, like, the second time we spoke to each other.”
“Yeah, but your face doesn’t betray much.”
“Really?”
Rosalie had never considered her face to be inexpressive.
“I have no idea what you’re thinking about tonight.”
“Oh. Well…um…besides you, mostly the Cocheta property and my five-year plan for renovating Hearth.”
Alex gave a slow nod, smile fading and gaze falling to the table.
“Part of me wants to run away to Corte del Cuervo and avoid dealing with it, but I’m trying not to be that way. I’ve got developers beating down my door, and I want to do the right thing, you know? I want to make Gran proud.”
Alex looked back up at Rosalie, adjusting in her seat. Rosalie realized Alex was uncomfortable with something. She felt her anxiety rise, hoping she hadn’t insulted Alex or said something careless.
Alex cleared her throat. “I was wondering. Um…you know I love working with you. But…could we make our dates a business-free zone? I just…you know, I want to make sure there’s more to our relationship than Hearth.”
Rosalie surged with guilt, relieved Alex had voiced a request for once. It was a good one, too. Rosalie should have anticipated it.
“Yeah, definitely. Sorry. It’s just…it’s this big project I’ve taken on, and it’s hard not to feel like I’m completely in over my head. You’re the person I’m around most, so I talk your ear off about it. Sorry.”
Alex’s smile returned, graceful on her face. “It’s okay.” She reached across the table, caressing Rosalie’s hand. “I’m excited for all the projects we’ve planned. Proud too. This is a big deal.”
Rosalie exhaled, feeling Alex’s hand tingle in her own. She was acutely aware they were in public and anyone might see them holding hands across the table. But she didn’t pull away.
“I do want to talk about business stuff when we’re not out on dates,” Alex said, drawing her hand back. “I’m totally on board with whatever projects you decide to tackle first. I’m your righthand girl.”
Rosalie nodded, feeling something in her stomach soften. Alex’s reassurance reminded her she wasn’t in this alone. She had Alex, she had Shelley, and somewhere, she knew, she had Gran. If those three people could put faith in her, perhaps it was time she trusted her gut once again. Her most immediate task was to make sure Alex didn’t feel as though she was only part of a business arrangement.
“Yeah, we should make dates a business-free zone,” Rosalie said, brushing her hair from her face with her free hand. “I’ll try not to be so preoccupied.”
Alex smiled, and her shoulders shifted with a gentle, silent laugh. “You’ll always be preoccupied with something, Rosie,” she said, folding her elbows on the table. “But it’s okay.”
Always subdued when Alex called her Rosie, Rosalie returned Alex’s smile. She was happy to be out with Alex but still lost as to what to talk about if she couldn’t talk about Hearth.
She held Alex’s gaze, willing herself not to retreat into her worries or discomfort. Rosalie stopped breathing, wondering what would hap
pen when they had to find commonalities besides Hearth.
What if they didn’t have any?
Frozen for a moment, Alex seemed to surge forward with a thought. “Did you know I smoked for ten years?”
Rosalie lifted her eyebrows, trying not to wrinkle any part of her face in disgust. She hated the smell of cigarettes, hated the lingering staleness that hung in the rooms where guests had disregarded the no-smoking policy, hated the clouds of dust that mushroomed whenever she emptied an ashtray. Mostly, she hated the cloud of toughness and melancholy she always felt around smokers as they huddled in doorways, outcasts from whatever was happening inside.
“I know, it’s gross,” Alex said. “That’s why I quit.”
Rosalie’s face must have betrayed her. She tried to apologize by engaging in polite conversation. “Do you miss it?”
“Like crazy,” Alex said. “Nicotine addiction is no joke.”
Rosalie bit her lip and nodded. “That’s what I hear.”
“But that wasn’t the worst part of quitting,” Alex said. “The worst part was I didn’t have that connection to people anymore. There’s this understanding amongst smokers that sometimes you’re the one with the lighter or extra butt, and sometimes you’re the one asking. It’s easy to strike up a conversation with people when you’re all standing outside smoking. I met some cool people.”
Rosalie had never considered the social aspect of smoking. She had thought of them as people exiled by their own intentional disregard for their health.
“It was easier to feel seen,” Alex said.
Rosalie frowned. “What do you mean?”
Alex shifted in her seat, leaning forward a little more on her elbows. “I had a lot of honest conversations in doorways and back alleys when I was a smoker. Smokers tend to reveal themselves on their cigarette break. It’s an escape from pretending to have all your shit together for a few minutes. You can be real when you’re publicly catering to a vice like that.”
Rosalie slowly nodded as she let her frown shift out of place.
“That’s all anyone wants,” Alex said. “To feel seen.”
Hearts Inn Page 23