Page 10

cilla

I stare at the half-eaten tuna sandwich on my plate when my sister, Prue, clears her throat for the fifteenth time in five minutes. My sister has never been subtle about wanting information.

"So, are we going to talk about the hot construction guy you've been avoiding for three months, or are we just going to pretend I didn't see you practically drooling when his truck drove by earlier?" She arches one perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.

"I wasn't drooling," I mutter, picking at the crust of my bread. "And I'm not avoiding Rowan. I'm just... maintaining professional boundaries."

Prue snorts. "Professional? Is he one of your students? Does he attend faculty meetings?"

"No, but?—"

"Then cut the crap, Cilla." She reaches across my tiny kitchen table and steals one of my chips. "You've mentioned him in every phone call for weeks. 'Rowan fixed Mrs. Henderson's porch.' 'Rowan waved at me this morning.' 'Rowan helped me carry Birdie to the vet when she ate that chocolate.'"

I feel heat crawling up my neck. "Oh, for fudge's sake."

"Exactly." Prue grins triumphantly. "You like him."

Birdie and Brody choose this moment to start barking at the back door, probably spotting a squirrel in the yard. I welcome the distraction, but Prue isn't having it.

"Don't even think about it," she warns. "Spill."

I sigh, letting my head fall back. "Fine. Yes. I like him. I like Rowan Malone with his ridiculous shoulders, stupid perfect smile, and the way he always asks about my dissertation even though the Oregon Trail can't possibly interest him."

"And you’re dragging your because...?"

"Because I've been down this road before!" I throw my hands up. "Hot guy who thinks it's cute that I'm smart until it's not cute anymore. Until he feels threatened or bored or whatever. I don't have time for that, Prue. I have classes to teach and a dissertation to finish and?—"

"And a life to live," Prue interrupts softly. "Not every guy is Daniel, you know."

I wince at the mention of my ex. "I know that. Intellectually."

"But emotionally, you're still hiding." She reaches for my hand. "Look, I'm not saying marry the guy. But maybe stop pretending you don't notice when he brings you coffee on his way to work."

"He does have great timing with the coffee," I admit.

"I want to meet him," Prue announces suddenly.

"What? No. Absolutely not."

"I'm in town for twenty-four more hours before returning to Seattle. As your big sister, it's my sacred duty to vet potential boyfriends. It's in the older sister handbook."

"He's not my boyfriend," I protest weakly.

"Yet," Prue winks.

I groan and bury my face in my hands. "You're impossible."

"I'm thorough," she corrects. "And if Rowan's as amazing as you've been pretending not to notice, he'll pass my inspection with flying colors."

The dogs have settled down now, curling together in their bed by the window. I envy their uncomplicated existence: Eat, sleep, bark at squirrels, repeat—no romantic confusion whatsoever.

"Fine," I concede, knowing resistance is futile. "We can drive by the site where Rowan's working today. But just a quick hello. No interrogation, embarrassing childhood stories, and no mention of the time I stalked his Instagram at 2 AM."

Prue's eyes widen with delight. "You stalked his?—"

"It was research!" I defend. "Purely academic interest in his... construction techniques."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" She smirks.

An hour later, I regret my decision as we approach the renovation site where Cedar Bay Construction is turning an old boathouse into a waterfront café. My palms are sweating on the steering wheel.

"This is stupid," I mutter. "Rowan's probably not even here."

But of course, the universe hates me because there he is—Rowan Malone in all his glory, shirtless in the summer heat, directing his crew while holding what looks like architectural plans. The sun glints off his tanned skin, and I momentarily forget how to breathe.

"Holy shit," Prue whispers beside me. "You undersold him. Dramatically."

"I know," I groan. "Can we go now?"

"Absolutely not." She's already unbuckling her seatbelt. "We're getting out of this car, and you're going to act like a functional human being around a man you like."

Before I can protest further, she's out of the car and waving. "Hello! Are you Rowan?"

I contemplate driving away and leaving her here, but that would be a terrible sister move, even for me. Instead, I reluctantly exit the car, trying to look casual and probably failing miserably.

Rowan looks up, confusion crossing his features before his eyes land on me. Then his whole face transforms with that smile—the one that makes my stomach do Olympic-level gymnastics.

"Cilla," he says, jogging over. "This is a surprise."

"A good one, I hope," Prue interjects, extending her hand. "I'm Prudence Griffin, the superior sister. You can call me Prue."

"Superior is debatable," I mutter.

Rowan laughs, and the sound warms something inside me. I've been trying desperately to keep cold.

"It's definitely a good surprise," he says, wiping his hands on his jeans before shaking Prue's hand. "Rowan Malone. Nice to finally meet some of Cilla's family."

"Finally, is right," Prue says with a pointed look my way. "I've heard so much about you."

I shoot her a death glare. "No, she hasn't."

"Oh, I've pieced things together from what she doesn't say," Prue continues, ignoring me altogether. "My sister has developed an interesting habit of trailing off mid-sentence whenever your name comes up."

"Is that so?" Rowan's eyes find mine, amusement dancing in them.

"I'm going to murder you," I whisper to Prue.

"What's that, sis? Couldn't hear you." She grins innocently.

I'm about to come up with some excuse about needing to get back to work on my dissertation when a tall, lean man with dark hair approaches. Something about the way he walks radiates confidence.

"Ro, we need your input on the—" He stops abruptly, his eyes landing on Prue.

"Fox, this is Cilla's sister, Prue," Rowan introduces. "And you know Cilla."

"Hi," Fox says to me absently before his attention snaps back to my sister. "Prue. That's short for...?"

"Prudence," she answers, and I notice she's tucking her hair behind her ear—her nervous tell. "Though there's nothing prudent about me."

"I can see that," Fox says with a slow smile that makes me want to step between them.

"Fox is one of my business partners," Rowan explains, moving closer as our siblings continue their mutual appraisal. "He handles most of our client relations."

"I bet he does," I murmur, watching Fox charm my usually unflappable sister.

Rowan chuckles, lowering his voice. "Should we be concerned?"

The "we" sends an unexpected thrill through me. Like we're a unit. A team.

“Probably,” I admit. "Prue doesn't do relationships. She does... expeditions."

"Fox is the same way," Rowan says. "Never met a woman he couldn't charm, never stayed with one long enough to try."

"Great. Fox and Prue are perfect for each other."

"Or a disaster waiting to happen."

We share a look that feels like we're in on a secret together, and I realize with a start that this is the longest conversation we've had without me making an excuse to leave. It's... nice.

"So, what brings you by?" Rowan asks, and something hopeful in his voice makes my heart skip.

"Prue wanted to meet—" I stop mid-sentence and take a deep breath. "Prue wanted to see the town while she's visiting. And I guess I wanted to... say hi."

"Hi," he says, his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver through me despite the summer heat.

"Hi," I whisper back.

From the corner of my eye, I see Prue and Fox have somehow migrated several feet away, deep in conversation. Fox says something that makes my sister throw her head back in genuine laughter, a rare sight these days.

"So your sister's just visiting?" Rowan asks, pulling my attention back to him.

"Just for the weekend. Prue lives in Seattle and works for some tech startup... actually, I'm not entirely sure what she does. Something with algorithms and user experience that she tries to explain but always loses me halfway through."

"And you're the academic in the family."

"The boring one, according to most family gatherings," I admit.

"I don't find you boring at all," he says, holding my gaze a beat longer than necessary.

I feel myself blushing and hate it. "Well, you haven't heard me go on about 19th-century Pacific Northwest settlement patterns yet."

"I'd like to."

There's an earnestness in his voice that catches me off guard. Before I can respond, there's a crash from somewhere in the building, followed by cursing.

"Boss!" someone yells. "We've got a situation with the support beam!"

Rowan winces. "Duty calls. But..." He hesitates, then plunges forward. "Would you and your sister want to join Fox and me for dinner tonight? Nothing fancy, just the Dockside Grill."

My heart does a little leap. "I?—"

"We'd love to," Prue cuts in, suddenly materializing beside me with Fox in tow. "Seven o'clock work for everyone?"

I shoot her an exasperated look, but she just smiles innocently.

"Seven's perfect," Fox says, his eyes never leaving my sister's face.

"Great," Rowan says, looking pleased and slightly relieved. "I'll see you both then." He squeezes my arm lightly before jogging back to deal with whatever construction crisis has erupted.

I stand there, my skin tingling where his fingers touched.

"Earth to Cilla," Prue sings, waving her hand before my face. "Wow, you've got it bad."

"Shut up," I mutter, turning back toward the car. "And what was that with Fox? You're leaving tomorrow."

Prue slides into the passenger seat with a casual shrug that doesn't fool me for a second. "It's dinner, not a marriage proposal. Besides, I'm allowed to appreciate the local scenery."

"He looked at you like you were a five-course meal."

"Good." She grins wickedly. "I'm starving."

I start the car, shaking my head. "You're hopeless."

“And you're falling in love.”