Page 35 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Dylan

“You awake, Peaches?” Rogue’s gravelly voice asks from way too close.

“No.”

“Does this mean you’re not a morning person? Because that will be the first difference we found between the two of us.”

What? Why would my sleepy brain say that?

I pat my pillow, and it chuckles. “Please tell me that we didn’t sleep together.”

“We didn’t sleep together.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. You asked me to repeat words, so I did.”

Pillows aren’t supposed to be snarky.

The chuckles get louder, and my head starts to bounce. I must have said that out loud.

“Do you need to sleep a while longer, or do you want to go for a hike before we leave?”

“A hike?”

“Yeah, there are some beautiful outlooks just a mile or two away. I thought we could order room service and then walk for a while. I already called down for a late checkout, so we’re good either way.”

I open my eyes and sit up. “You make a pretty comfortable pillow.” I didn’t even notice falling asleep in his arms while we were watching a movie. The remains from dinner are still spread across the coffee table in front of us.

“Then we’ll have to do it again soon.”

Very soon. But I’m not telling him that yet. The man doesn’t need any more assistance playing the game. “And just so you know, I’m a morning person. Do you think we’ll ever find a difference?”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t think so either. If this were a romance novel, people would say we’re boring.” And sickeningly sweet.

“Nothing about us is boring. Bad things don’t need to happen to keep things exciting.”

They do in books. “Would you order me something light, like a yogurt and some fruit?”

“You eat healthy foods?” He sounds surprised.

“Most of the time. Mainly because I’m too lazy to make anything complex. A piece of meat and a salad work for me dinner. Though I like delivery as well.”

“There aren’t many places that deliver in Silent Valley.”

“We could take turns cooking.” Did I just say that? It sure sounds like I was talking about moving in together.

“Sounds good to me.”

Why do I encourage him?

***

We stop at the top of a spring-fed stream. The cold air brushing over it causes a mist that hovers all around us, making it feel like we have a dream world all to ourselves. Some fantasy novelists probably used this place for a scene in one of their fairy novels. “How did you find this place?”

“I didn’t. One of the guys has been doing research, and I picked out the places you’ll enjoy the most.”

“You know you could have lied and taken all the credit. I wouldn’t have known the difference.”

“I won’t ever lie to you. Not ever.”

And we finally found a difference. “I lie. Not often, but I don’t have a problem lying to people.”

“Like you lied to Bear?”

I nod.

“Do you ever plan to lie to me?”

Do I? “Healthy relationships aren’t built on lies.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

Could I promise Rogue that I wouldn’t ever do that? “No, I don’t.”

“Then promise me you won’t ever lie to me.”

That feels big. “I won’t ever lie to you.”

“Good.” He steps closer, wrapping his gloved hands around the metal railing on either side of me.

Kiss him. You didn’t promise not to kiss him.

Not yet. I need to make sure that this is real. That it’ll last. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. This will have to be enough.

***

“Before we get going, I need to fill up the tank.” Rogue turns into a gas station and pulls up to a diesel pump. “Do you want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good, but thanks.” It’s true, but it’s also a test that most men fail. The law states that every man must buy his woman snacks regardless of what she says at a gas station, especially on long trips.

Will he take my word for it?

I lean back and scroll through the million and a half messages on my phone. There aren’t quite that many, but it feels overwhelming. The reminder from my cover artist that we have an appointment next week is the most urgent one.

Where will I be next week? I’m trying not to think about that. A tiny little sedan pulls in next to us. The truck sits so high that I can look right into the car. There on the seat are a dozen red roses.

No. No. That’s impossible. A scream lodges in my throat. I reach up and lock the doors.

Rogue is just inside. If I honk the horn, he’ll come running.

But this guy can’t be my stalker. It’s impossible. They checked everything. There is nothing for him to track me with. The guy is just a nice guy who brought his wife flowers.

On a random Wednesday? No one brings their wife flowers like that on a random Wednesday.

He doesn’t even look at me as he walks over to pump his gas.

This is all in your head.

Everything is fine.

You’re safe.

He leaves the pump running automatically and grabs the window washer.

That’s totally normal. People wash their windows every day.

Don’t stare at him. From this angle, he’ll be able to see you.

But I can’t stop myself from looking at him. From trying to find a single clue that might tell that he’s the guy.

What do stalkers even look like? In all my books, they’re middle-aged white guys because statistically that’s who most of them are.

They have average jobs and get along with the people around them.

He fits all the statistics, but that doesn’t make him my stalker.

All that makes him, is an average white guy.

I bang my head on the back of the all too comfortable headrest, which wasn’t produced in any factory.

When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me. Probably because he thinks I’ve lost my mind. I give him a half-wave, half-smile.

He returns the half-smile and walks away.

See! If he were your stalker, he wouldn’t have walked away that fast.

Everything is fine.

I start breathing again when he pulls away.

It’s just the flowers that have you all jumpy.

Rogue walks back with a full bag on his arm.

I unlock the doors as he reaches them.

He hops in and sets down the bags. “What’s with the locked doors? And why do you look like you’re about to hyperventilate?”

How do I explain it without sounding like an overwhelmed scaredy-cat? Would pretending be considered a lie? Probably. It’s not worth the risk. “A car pulled up next to us, and the guy had red roses on the seat next to him.”

“Did he do anything? Try to get near you?”

“No. It was all perfectly normal. He filled his tank and washed his windows.”

“But you were scared.”

That’s a bit of an understatement. “Yeah.”

“Do you know how to use a gun? Not in theory. Have you had training?”

“Yeah.”

He leans forward. “I can’t wait for you to tell me that story.” With a little flip, the glove box opens. “Put your hand in there and feel the around the top.”

That’s an odd request — “You have a secret compartment in here.”

“There are dozens all around the truck.”

Dozens? It’s definitely a fully custom job.

“Are you paying attention?”

Sorta. Mostly. I turn back to where his outstretched arm is leading me. Don’t look at all those defined muscles of his. “I’m paying attention now.” Feel for a latch or a button. “Got it.”

“Now press two three two on the radio.”

A door flips open as my finger touches the last two.

“It’s loaded, and there are half a dozen extra magazines.”

Wow! Wow!

“You get scared again when I’m not here. You pull that out.”

“Okay.”

“You good? You need to take a walk? Clear your mind? Want a hug?”

Yes to all three, especially the hug. But I won’t want to stop anytime soon. “I’m good.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m mostly good because of you.”

“That I’ll take.”

“I wasn’t trying to lie to you.”

Rogue reaches across and sets his hand on mine.

“I know. You were lying to yourself. So, I got you a sugar-free tea and a lemonade. To mix them together, I got you a cup of ice. Then I don’t know your favorite snacks yet, so I got us a mix of everything from salty to sweet and some trail mix to balance it all out. ”

He passed the test that he didn’t even know was a test. “I love you. I mean, I’m falling in love with you.”

“I know.”

“Well, that’s an arrogant thing to say.”

“Let me ask you. Do you know that I’m falling in love with you?”

Do I? “Yeah.”

“Then that’s another thing we have in common.”