Cuts Like An Angel (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rosie

Rosie made her way around the house, looking for Josh. She’d ended up stopping at a store for a few very needed, just in case, toiletries and had taken longer than expected. She’d come so close to buying some form of birth control, but everything in her screamed he’d find it and think her a slut. They didn’t need to be having
sudden sex
anyway. Not to mention she was sure he had his own stash being the hunk he was. Her stomach burned as she pushed away any images of him hunking it up with some other girl. Like Maria.

She peeked into a room with French doors and wowed. This was going to make a gorgeous dining room. It sat pretty empty except for a grand table and couple pieces of furniture. The dark square under the stares drew her eye, bringing an instant creep factor to the lovely image. A missing tooth in a perfect set of dentures. Definitely needed to cover that. She gazed around, smiling as her mind began decorating the space. Before it was over, she envisioned her and Josh at the table for a Christmas dinner. The fireplace was decorated with their stockings, a cozy fire going as they ate a romantic dinner with candles.

She left her Cinderella dreams and sought out the source of said fantasy. At the kitchen, she spied the back door open. She stepped onto the porch and movement caught her eye. Shielding the bright light with a hand on her brow, she peered through the garden’s overgrowth and squinted. Naked skin flashed, sending her pulse stuttering.

She didn’t have to wonder long about what she was seeing. Josh’s shiny white back came into perfect view as she stepped off the porch. Holy hell mother of Joseph. I mean Jesus. She made her way over, trying to be quiet as she did so she had all the time in the world to prove he was every bit as gorgeous as she’d imagined under the long sleeves he usually wore.

She paused just before the opening he’d cleared, watching the ripple of shiny muscles as he swung something. Something that cut grass, judging from the flying bits of weeds that shot out with every swing. So many flirty things to say about all of it.  She often though he liked the flirting but then he’d do something to make her second guess that. Didn’t take much. The wrong look, touch. Blink. She needed to loosen up with the negative shit, because more every day, she saw signs that said
he
was nervous. If that was the case, she could sooooo handle that.

“Hi there,” she announced, not too loud so as not to startle him.

He suddenly glanced over his shoulder, making her heart hammer with anticipation of him turning. He walked off to the right and snatched a light blue button up shirt from a small tree. He put his back to her and slid it on, making her want to boooo. But when he turned, her joy returned at finding he hadn’t buttoned it.
Mercy, mercy, yes.
Her gaze devoured the glistening abs and line of dark hair near his navel. She meant to look up all the way to his face but tripped at his chest. Shiny… shit, were those scars?

She should’ve raised her gaze when he began buttoning his shirt but the graceful move of those thick yet sleek fingers along each button out had her mesmerized.

“Sorry,” he said, snapping her out of the naughty zone.

“I’m back,” she gushed stupidly.

“I see that.”

The half-smile and angled sexy look he gave literally charged the air around her, making her brain misfire. “You’re sweating,” she announced, stuck on stupid. “I bought food,” she remembered, tossing her thumb over her shoulder. “Wanted to cook for you.”

“You’re practicing to be a good girlfriend?” he said, his words still a little winded.

The girlfriend reference made her laugh too loud to which he laughed, then looked around. She looked too. “Wow. You really put a dent here.”

He shrugged and cast his gaze over the
yet to be done
stuff. “It’s a start.”

“I can change and come help.”

“Okay,” he said, eyeing her. “I’ll grab a drink while you do.” His gaze slid over her, making her need to assess all focal points in her attire. “Don’t want you to mess up that pretty dress.”

She smiled and forbid another gaspy gasp just begging to explode from her. “You like it?” She crossed her arms over her midsection, nervously.

He gave her a full smile, the look in his eyes saying he was aware of her press for a compliment. “I love it,” he said, chasing her fears off. “The pink suits you.”

“Not too loud? Crass? Blinding?”

He chuckled and lowered his head a moment before giving her another one of those heart stopping smiles. “Blinding,” he muttered, making his way to her.

“It’s too bright?” she worried.

He reached a hand out to her and she looked down at it. “To hold,” he informed. “For practice maybe?”

She put her hand in his, her smile huge as he led the way to the back porch. She focused on the feel of how big his hand was on hers. Lord have mercy it was like she was holding his penis. She jerked her hand out of his and he paused, looking at her.

She slapped the top of her hand and stared at the skin. “Something bit me,” she said, scratching an invisible bite before holding her hand back out.

“I have repellent,” he said, taking her hand again, making her sigh internally at the close call.

While Josh got his drink, Rosie went to her car and fetched a couple of her bags. When she made it back inside, she looked around in the foyer for him. “Where should I put my stuff?” she called out.

He suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway with a glass in hand, eyeing her bags as he leaned on the jamb. She suddenly felt like a bum. A lying, pretending bum. “You’ll take my room until I get the spare one in order.”

The bum feeling churned in her. “I
really
don’t like taking your room.”

He stared at her as he sipped his drink. “Would you prefer we share it?”

She stared back at him, wishing she knew if he was joking. She shrugged, deciding to pretend he was serious. “I don’t mind.”

By the surprised quirk of his brow and the sudden pause of his hand, he’d joked. Great. “And the bed?”

Another casual shrug. “We’re adults. I’m sure we can sleep in the same bed and behave.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, I’m sure about me,” she said emphatically at his grin. “I can’t vouch for you.”

“I can be rough ... in my sleep.”

Their gazes locked, and Rosie forced more nonchalance at his bold flirting. “Well, I can’t make any promises either once I’m asleep. I may accidentally … punch you.”

His laugh was easy and the twinkle in his eyes stole her breath. “Thought you were going to say something else.”

She held her lips tight together to keep from saying the stupid she felt there on her tongue. “Mm-m,” she shook her head.

He gave a sigh, swishing the ice in his empty glass. “Suppose we could try. But I won’t be responsible if you accidentally touch me in your sleep.”

She swallowed under the sudden heat in his gaze. He was a damn good flirter and teaser.  “Deal,” she said, ready to sign on the dotted line.

He pushed off the door and walked to her. Rosie forgot how to think as he got closer, his eyes locked on hers. She waited, breathless for whatever he was doing, not able to figure out her name much less what he was up to. He stood before her with that secret smile then leaned his face to hers. His fingers caressed both her hands as he took both bags from her. Shit. Not a kiss. A bag boy. More like a naughty boy judging by his mischievous smile. “Deal,” he said, appearing very knowledgeable of what he’d just done. And she loved it. “I can carry them,” she hurried as he headed up the stairs with both bags. She followed him only to wonder if she was supposed to. She paused on the stairs. “I’ll go get the rest of my things,” she let him know, hurrying back down.

“I’ll help, hold on,” he called as she headed for the front door.

She didn’t wait, he didn’t need to do everything. At her car, she heard the buzz of her phone and reached inside her purse on the passenger seat. “William,” she whispered at his name on the screen. She ignored the shame burning her cheeks at how she’d handled the night before. Pressing the button, she sat in the driver seat. “Hey,” she said, making her voice light and cheery. She needed to prove him wrong about her being upset. It was her that misread what he’d wanted. She was the one at fault. “William?” she looked at the phone to see if she lost signal then put it back to her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have …”

“Hey,” she hurried, lightly. “How about we not do that. Forget last night.”

The dead air made her cringe. “I’ll never forget last night,” he said quietly.

Her heart hammered as she tried not to replay what happened while also deciphering what he meant by that. Was that a good
he’d never forget
or a bad? Sounded like he it was the bad kind. Like it had scarred him now. Damage was done. Way to fucking go helpline hussy. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think up, absently picking at the peeling vinyl on her seat. 

“I’m not upset about that.”

“What, then?” And did she want to know?

“Are you with him?”

Shit. She prayed that wasn’t jealousy she heard in his tone. She seemed to be good at misreading him and his words, his moods. “Yes,” she said lightly, holding her breath.

“Is he treating you okay?”

At hearing his concern, she let out a breath. “Yes, he’s a … a perfect, English gentleman.”

“How long are you there for?”

“I’m … I’m staying for a few days.”

“You’re spending the night? With him?”

“Not
with
him,” she said.

The silence pressed in for several seconds. “Why not?”

She sighed, wishing she knew what he was thinking and what answers he was looking for. “It’s complicated but it’s not about me and him.”

“Are you … going to sleep with him, Rosie?”

Oh God. God, shit, damn. “No,” she cried. “Not sexually.”

“But … do you want to?”

“What? Have sex with him?”

“Yes.”

His persistent tone was soft, curious. “William, this is getting weird.”

“I just … need to know. Listen,” he said in a casual tone. “I know that you were with him, before last night, before we talked and things got … how they did. I don’t expect you to do anything different on my account, Rosie. I mean what you have with him, I’m fine with. Whatever it is.”

“Great.”

“Great what?”

“You’re making me feel confused. And like shit.”

“How?”

“For one, I don’t understand what you’re thinking and feeling, hence my little slip up last night. And … I just feel like shit, okay?” she repeated, not having a good answer, not wanting to voice it even if she did.

“Why should you?”

“Because William,” she shrilled a little, “I don’t want to
hurt you,
isn’t that obvious?” 

“It is when you say it plainly, yes. So do you want to have sex with me?  Him?”

“Oh my God, you said
me
…”

“It was an accident, a tongue typo,” he assured.

“Really,” she demanded, not believing him as she rolled down the window for air. She had to know though. Just that very thing. Did William … like her the way it seemed he did? He was good at not being clear on that and she sucked at reading him as it was.

“Really, really,” he said. “But I want to know the other.”

“If I want to have sex with him? Why do you want to know this? I could very easily say that’s not your business you know?”

“Then say it,” he said, like it didn’t matter.

“How about you tell me why you need to know that or want to, and how about you stop beating around the bush and tell me how you feel about all of it?”

“Doesn’t matter how I feel about it Rosie. But I do kind of need to know so I can go ahead and feel however I will.”

She tossed herself back into the seat. “Okay fine, I want to,” she said. “How does that make you feel?”

“Would it confuse you a whole lot if I said good?”

Her mouth hung open and she rubbed at the quirk in her brow. “Oh my God,” she muttered, not understanding. “Yes, it kind of does.”

“It shouldn’t, Rosie. Because I just want you happy. That’s all.”

“And what about you, William?”

“William can go to hell,” he muttered, chuckling a little.

Anger shot her forward. “Don’t you say that,” she hissed. “Don’t you
ever
say that.”

“Why do you care about William so much?” he demanded, sounding confounded and irked. “He’s only getting what he deserves.”

“Okay, mister.” She pointed in the air. “You can stop this. You can stop this
right
now. And especially stop doing it in third person, its’ weird and stupid. You. Matter.” She poked the air, imagining it his chest.

“Go be happy Rosie,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered, panicked at his bye-bye tone. “You know what? You’re being mean.”