Losing Romeo (7 page)

Arrested? She’d been
arrested
?

My instincts were right. She’s trouble. Jeez, Mercer. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you lost your head over a girl?

“Bryson?”

Unable to stop thinking about her revelation, he nodded. “Yeah. In the barn. Actually, I’ll take him. You better get home. I don’t want to get you in trouble with Dafne.”

She held the reins out to him, and his fingers brushed hers, the contact causing his heart to hitch, despite the fact that he’d decided she was trouble.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, flashing him a big smile.

He watched her practically skip away. Chester nudged him with his nose, and Bryson took the hint and walked him and Ace into the barn. Talking to Rosaline—pretending he was normal—it’d been fun. But it wasn’t real. A girl who’d gotten sent here because she’d ended up in jail was a bad idea. No matter how pretty she was or how much fun to be around.

Since he couldn’t stop staring at her whenever she was around, there was only one way to make sure he didn’t make the same mistakes he’d made in the past.

From now on, I’m going to have to avoid her.

Chapter Nine

Saturday morning, Rosaline awoke to a loud grinding noise. She got out of bed and padded to the kitchen. Dafne stood in front of the blender. She punched off the blender, poured two glasses, and held one out to Rosaline.

Stifling a yawn, Rosaline took the glass. She cautiously sipped the drink—not bad, considering some of the spinach from the bag she saw out had probably made its way inside.

Dafne leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as she drank her smoothie. The black yoga pants she had on hugged her body, making her look ten pounds slimmer.

Rosaline wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Dang, Aunt Dafne, you’ve been hiding a slamming body under those boxy suits.”

Pink rose in Dafne’s cheeks, and she tugged her T-shirt down. “Oh, stop.”

“I’m serious. You should stroll around in those in front of Mr. Mercer. He’d
definitely
notice.”

Dafne’s jaw practically hit the floor. “I-I’d have no reason to do something like that. He and I are work associates.”

“You want that to change, get some form fitting outfits and show him what he’s missing.”

Dafne shook her head. “If you’re done being inappropriate, I was wondering if you’d like to go to my yoga class with me.”

“Yes to yoga, no to done being inappropriate. Appropriateness is totally overrated.” Rosaline nudged Dafne with her elbow. “Come on. Ask Mr. Mercer out already. I know you want to.”

“I most certainly do not.” A hint of sorrow washed over her expression. “Besides, if he had any interest, he would’ve done something about it.” She rinsed her cup out and placed it in the sink. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean—”

“Relax. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how much trouble liking a guy can get you in.”

Dafne draped her arm over Rosaline’s shoulders. “You’re not the first person to make a mistake because of a boy, and unfortunately, you won’t be the last. The trick is learning from your mistakes so you don’t make the same ones again.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve sworn off guys.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, though, she thought about Bryson. How he’d taken the time to explain all about riding yesterday. How his hand had lingered on her back a moment as she’d gotten off the horse…

“Now that’s a lot easier said than done,” Dafne said. “Which is why we’re going to go breathe and Namaste our way through a calming, mind-centering yoga class.”

“And that works?”

Dafne shrugged. “It keeps you fitting into yoga pants.”

***

When Dafne said yoga, Rosaline had pictured a couple down-dogs and some inhaling and exhaling—that kind of thing. She hadn’t been prepared to pretzel her body into unnatural positions. She didn’t feel calmed, and her mind most definitely did not feel centered. She’d actually let a couple swear words slip, which earned her glares from all the women around her.

By the time class was over, her smoothie was a distant memory and she wanted real food. One of the buildings across the street had big windows and cheery, pink curtains. A sweet smell wafted from it, making her mouth water. “Is that a bakery?”

“We can’t go there,” Dafne said. “It’ll undo all our work.”

“Your health food diet is about to kill me. I need
carbs.” Rosaline tugged Dafne across the street.

The words
Maude’s Old Fashioned Bakery
were painted on the window in gold lettering, and a bell rang as they pushed their way inside.
Aw, it’s so cute.
The display of all the pretty, frosting-covered baked goods made her stomach growl.
And I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven.

Rosaline got in line to order, and Dafne headed to a table in the corner to wait.

The bell above the door chimed, and Leanne, the girl who’d been selling necklaces, walked in. She smiled as she approached. “Looks like you’ve survived your first couple weeks here.”

“In only the most literal sense of the word,” Rosaline said.

“That bad?” Leanne leaned closer. “Is it because of the Mercers? Winslow always looks so serious, and no one’s even seen Bryson in like a year.”

“They’re nice, actually. Winslow is serious, but Bryson…” Rosaline wasn’t sure how to describe what was going on with him. “I thought he was mean at first, and he’s still pretty quiet, but he’s starting to grow on me.” She inched forward as the woman in front of her stepped up to the register. “So, he used to come into town?”

“Went to school here and everything. He was practically a celebrity. He was winning all those motocross races, and people in town would drive for hours to see him compete—even the ones who’d always talked crap about him. He was older, so I never really talked to him much. Dreamed about it, though. All the girls did. He was cute, but totally cocky. The kind of guy you told yourself not to like, but still crushed on.”

She told herself to let it go, sure Bryson wouldn’t like her prying, but she couldn’t help herself. “What happened?”

“Last summer, right after graduation, he got into some huge fight after one of the races he’d won. Not there at the race. Some dive bar, I think it was. No one knows what exactly happened but—”

“Next customer,” the woman behind the counter bellowed out.

Rosaline ordered an assortment of pastries, a coffee, and an iced skinny latte for Dafne. She turned to talk to Leanne, wanting to hear more about Bryson, but she was already over by Dafne.

“…should really let her come sometime,” Leanne was saying as Rosaline approached the table.

Dafne looked up at her, then back to Leanne. “We’ll talk about it.”

“Cool.” Leanne waved. “I’ll see you guys later.” She grabbed a to-go order and left the store, the bell sounding again.

Rosaline sat opposite Dafne. “She’s got to be the nicest girl I’ve ever met.”

“Her mother’s like that, too. They’re just genuinely nice people who like to make everyone feel welcome.” Dafne took a sip of her latte. “Leanne was trying to convince me to let you spend some time in town with her.”

A delicate bubble of hope rose up inside her. She was almost scared to breathe for fear she’d do it wrong and Dafne would keep her locked up forever.

Dafne traced the rim of her cup with her fingertip. “I was thinking that if you work really hard in the office all this week, I’ll let you spend a few hours with Leanne on the weekend. Sound good?”

“Sounds awesome.” Rosaline bit into a cinnamon roll—soft, sugary heaven. Yeah, she needed to order an entire box of baked goods so she could break into it whenever Dafne decided chicken and veggies were a full meal. She licked off the frosting, savoring every ounce of sweetness. “There’s, um, been something I’ve been meaning to ask you. About Bryson.”

“I thought you were swearing off guys.”

“Bryson’s just a friend. Getting to be anyway.” Rosaline leaned forward. “What happened to him?”

Dafne tore off a section of Rosaline’s roll and tossed it in her mouth. “He used to go around the state entering all the motocross events. Won most of them, too, and I know he was hoping to go pro. But then…I’m not sure of all the exact details—I’m not even sure Bryson remembers what happened. He got into a fight with a group of guys, ended up in the hospital, and after that, he was a different kid.”

She glanced around and then leaned her forearms on the table. “After that, he seemed to give up on life. He’s a good kid, and I care about him, but some days he’s okay and some days… Well, let’s just say if he suddenly pushes you away, try not to take it personally.”

Spending time with Bryson yesterday made the day go by so much faster than boring filing. But if he was going to be hot and cold…

Maybe I should keep my distance. I don’t want to get attached if he’s going to be one more person who hurts me.

She’d already had enough people push her away, and she didn’t think she could stand one more.

But Bryson and I have a different kind of relationship. There’s something about him that makes it easy to be myself. And I feel like he’s happier when we’re hanging out, too. We need each other. He won’t push
me
away.

By the time they made it back to the truck, Rosaline was nice and buzzed on sugar, thinking that while she failed at yoga, she totally ruled at pastry eating. She flipped down the visor to make sure she didn’t have frosting on her lips and frowned at the mirror embedded in the plastic. “You know how we’ve got the Capulet eyebrows?”

Dafne wrinkled the eyebrows in question and looked in the rearview mirror. “We do?”

“Uh, yeah. And they require maintenance or you end up with a unibrow, a la Bert on
Sesame Street
.”

Dafne still didn’t seem to be getting it, so Rosaline just blurted it out. “We both need our eyebrows waxed. I’m hoping there’s somewhere in a thirty-mile radius that could help us out with that.”

“You think?” Dafne glanced in the mirror again. “I suppose they are getting rather full.”

“‘Rather’ happened a while ago.”

Offense pinched Dafne’s features. “Hey!”

“Well, you weren’t taking subtle hints. We did yoga for our booties; now it’s time to get our faces in shape, and trust me, professional is the way to go. You could probably use a trim, too. Then you can wear your hair down instead of always twisting it up.”

The engine roared to life as Dafne turned the key. “You make my confidence soar, you know that?”

“First I crush it; then I help you fix it. Just leave it to me.”

***

Aunt Dafne was taking deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each one. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Just relax.” Rosaline put a hand on Dafne’s shoulder, looking to Amy, the woman wielding the wax. “It’ll be fine.”
After one swift rip that makes you cry for your mommy.

Amy leaned over Dafne, smoothed the strip one way, and then yanked it off the other.

“
Merda
!” Dafne yelled, whipping her hand up to her newly shaped eyebrow.

“Aunt Dafne!” Rosaline had only learned a few Italian words from Dad, Papa Capulet, and her aunts and uncles, and most of them were swear words. One of which Dafne had just shouted.

“I know, I know,” Dafne said, still rubbing the red, stripped-of-hair skin. “I’ll say a couple of Hail Marys later.”

Rosaline smiled. “That’s what I say whenever I swear.” At Dafne’s furrowed brow, she added, “Which is never, of course.”

Dafne shook her head, but she was smiling.

“Ready for the other one?” Rosaline asked.

“No.”

Rosaline put her hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “Too bad.”

Another rip and another swear word.

An hour later, Rosaline had her eyebrows done as well, and Dafne had gotten a trim, plus auburn highlights. When Dafne suggested mani pedis to top it off, Rosaline nearly died of shock. Then she climbed into the chair with a happy squeal and let the staff beautify her hands and feet.

Dafne lifted the ends of her hair, letting the light catch them. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into highlights. But I think I love them.”

“You might know how to run a trucking business, but me, I know how to figure out the best color and cut.” Rosaline watched her last toenail get painted hot pink, then turned to Dafne. The past few weeks she’d missed Mom more than she realized. Today Dafne had filled in, doing all the things Rosaline and Mom used to do. “Do you ever get lonely? Or wish that you’d stayed in California?”

“Do you know why I left California?” Dafne asked.

Careful to not smudge anything, Rosaline twisted in her seat. “No. Why?”

“I fell in love. With a Montague.”

Rosaline gasped. “Did anyone else know?”

“I’ve never told anyone. I mean, he knew, of course.” She set down her hand, her dark red fingernails contrasting the white armrest, and stared at the wall opposite them. “He asked me to marry him.” A wistful gleam hit her eyes. “I wanted to; I really did. But I mentioned his name one night—just to see how Papa would react.”

“Let me guess, not good. Probably a string of curses that would make your waxing session look mild.”

A sad smile crossed Dafne’s lips, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “He spoke with such hatred. I knew he’d disown me if I went through with it. So I broke it off. He told me he’d fight for me…” A couple tears escaped, and she wiped them away. “This is stupid, crying over something that happened so long ago.”

“But you loved him.”

Dafne sniffed and then nodded. “It was first love. Wild and reckless, and I thought I’d die without him. But I didn’t. Then he married someone else, and I wanted to.”

The sorrow in her aunt’s voice echoed deep in Rosaline’s chest. “Which Montague was it?”

“Stefan.”

“Ben’s older brother? He is cute. And he married that woman with the grating voice who works at the boutique on the boardwalk. Pretty, but she’s so annoying. She gets chubbier every year, too,” Rosaline added to try to make her aunt feel better. She reached out and squeezed Dafne’s hand. “Definitely a downgrade from you.”