Page 39 of Wild Rose (Blue River Springs #1)

Wilder

Rose has been working from the cottage the last two days. And I can’t say I blame her.

It’s Thursday and she’s supposed to bring me payroll to sign off this morning and then get them to Ginger.

I’m at my desk, elbow propped on the wood, running a hand down my face for the tenth time in the last hour. I take another swig of my iced coffee.

I hate it. But the smell and the taste remind me of her. And it helps with keeping me up in the mornings since I haven’t been going back to my house to sleep until well after all the lights flicker off in her cottage.

I had to keep myself from knocking on her door several times. Rose clearly asked for space. And I need to give it to her.

Because I’m the asshole who humiliated her when she was just trying to help.

She’s so innocent. Sees the best in everything except when it comes to herself.

I swallow back the lump in my throat thinking I made it worse the other day.

The memory is sharp—her face flushing, the way she’d swallowed hard, green eyes blazing with hurt before rushing off. And now, she’s avoiding me.

No late morning excuses, no quick-witted comebacks.

Just silence.

The creak of my office door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I sit up straighter as Rose steps inside.

And just like that, she takes my breath away again.

Her hair is tied in a low, loose ponytail, tossed over one shoulder. She’s in a denim jumpsuit of sorts that falls just above the knee. A white, long-sleeved fitted shirt underneath.

I resist pushing off my seat and pulling her into my arms when she reaches the other side of my desk.

“Payroll totals are all set. Counted twice,” she says, voice even, polite. She barely meets my eyes as she holds them out to me.

“Thank you.” I don’t grab them from her. I leave her hanging for a bit. I could be a jerk and insist I need her to work with me today. Tell her this isn’t a work-from- home job.

But that won’t do any good.

I watch her until she looks at me. God, she’s stunning. And why the hell do I see guilt in those pretty green eyes? I need a smile.

I glance at the cards. “What’s a man got to do for another game of tug-of-war with you over on this side of my desk?” I grin.

She fights one back and sets them down. “Trust me, you don’t want me falling all over you.”

Oh, I think I do.

But in what sense? Does it matter? Because I’m ready to take what she’ll give me.

Self-control fucked, I push off my chair and go to her, lifting her onto my desk and stepping between her legs. The way she opens them for me is doing a number in my pants.

I cup her cheeks, lifting her face to mine. “Baby, I am so sorry. I wanted to come by that night to explain something. Something I want you to know.”

She keeps her eyes low, lashes staining with fresh tears. “Wes told me about your mother. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

That’s it.

That’s the guilt I see. Why she stayed away from me.

I should have been the one to tell her. I had an entire weekend to open up to her. But I stayed closed off. Insisting I was there only for her. Not the other way around.

“Why can’t you look at me?” The question sounds pitiful from my tongue. Desperate, but I can’t find it in me to care. I just want the answer.

She finally replies and it pains me to see how much I’ve hurt her. “I’m embarrassed for pressuring you to do something that is clearly out of the question.”

“What did I tell you about being sorry or feeling ashamed?” I grab hold of her hands and bring her knuckles to my lips.

Her lips curve up, a shred of that familiar light returning to her eyes. I kiss her before she changes her mind and runs off again. I press my impatient, needy lips to hers, and she responds, melting into me.

It’s a rough, hungry kiss and I say fuck it. Fuck boundaries, fuck what this means for the rest of the summer, fuck the wheels pulling up to a hard stop in front of the Saddle Room. I’m not taking my hands off this girl.

Rose pulls back with a gasp. “Wilder.”

“I don’t care,” I respond, kissing her soft skin like a starved man. I cup her face again. “I want you, Rose. Not for a night, or the weekend.”

Her eyes are wide, flickering with .?.?. hope, maybe? “Give me the summer.”

“Wilder, that could be Wes.” There’s literal fear in her voice, and I step back just as the door to the Saddle Room flies open.

We both turn, finding Dallas shutting the door behind him. His eyes flick between us, but it’s not like he didn’t know anything.

Something’s off. He looks pale. Even more than he has in the last few weeks. “Dal, you al—”

“Ellie’s mine,” he states gruffly.

Shock and .?.?. relief wash over me. And man does it surprise me. I could have sworn I was rooting for a different outcome.

Rose jumps off the desk and rushes to my brother, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Congratulations,” she whispers, a smile in her voice.

I run a hand down my face, still processing as I walk over to them and grip my brother’s shoulder. “You’re not alone.” I said it to him at the hospital and I’ll keep saying it. Because no matter what, we stand by each other.

Dallas nods, then looks down at Rose. “You still coming Sunday night? Dinner at Wilder’s?”

When she hesitates, I answer for her. “She is.”

He releases a breath. “Good. Ellie is coming. I want her to meet everyone, but it’s .?.?. a lot of men.”

Rose smiles. “I understand. I’m happy to be there for it.”

“Is she .?.?. with us for good now?” I ask, careful not to ask if he plans on staying at my house with the girl.

“No.” He’s quick with his answer. “Step by step. I’ll be spending a little bit of time with her over the next few weeks until Mr. and Mrs. Hartly leave town for good.”

“For good?” I ask.

“They’re going to take one or two trips before they move officially at the end of summer. During those trips, they’ll leave Ellie with us.”

I watch him to see his plan for those .?.?. sleepovers. Praying he’ll take this as a sign that he needs to finish the house he was building for him and Millie.

He turns to Rose and a small part of me hopes he’s about to ask for help decorating Ellie’s room at the new house.

“I was hoping you could help with that.”

Rose’s eyes light up. “Of course I’ll help. I know exactly what she’ll need.”

Dallas pinches the bridge of his nose. “The cottage. I’m thinking maybe she can stay with you those nights?”

Rose’s smile fades and we exchange a glance. “Oh. I .?.?. um .?.?. of course.”

“Excuse us, Rose. My brother and I need to take a walk.” I grip his collar and shove him out the door.

He doesn’t fight me. I don’t even know if he’s half with it right now. “Hell are you doing, bringing her into this? This is your daughter, Dallas. No doubt the girl’s going to feel abandoned by her grandparents not long after losing her mother, now you want to dump her on a stranger?”

“I’m a stranger too,” he argues. “At least Rose would be more, I don’t know—”

“Not her mother. Not someone she should be getting to know or growing attached to.”

“You’re fucking one to talk.”

“Don’t make me hit you right now. I’ll do it.”

“You’re going to stand here and tell me about getting attached to someone? You even tell your best friend you’re fucking his sister?”

I shove him hard against his car, growling through my teeth. “I’d hate to give you a black eye this week when you’ve got dates planned with your little girl. Wouldn’t want to send her the wrong message.”

He pushes me off. “Maybe that was out of line,” he mutters. “But put yourself in my shoes. You think you can become a dad overnight? From a woman you barely remember? What if Ellie asks me if I loved her mother? What if she wants to know how we met or anything about her, what am I supposed to say?”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. But you need to try, or the first question out of her mouth will be ‘Do you even want me here?’ ”

I leave him outside and turn back to my office, then I pause, giving him a long side-glance. “Knew she was.”

He keeps his eyes on the ground. “So did I.”