11. Rosie
“Ionly have thirty minutes for lunch. I have to go meet Dolly after.”
My father chews his chicken fried steak, studying me closely. He’s a big man with a rounded barrel chest and large hands. The gray in his mustache has become more prominent since the last time we sat down, just the two of us, to talk.
I avoided his calls and texts for as long as I could. Guilt had been gnawing at me, so I finally responded and agreed to Sunday lunch with him at his favorite steak house in town when he said he wanted to discuss the holidays. They sat us at his usual table during the busy hour.
“So, the maid work hasn’t lost its luster yet?”
I spear a dry cucumber slice on the edge of my salad bowl. “I’m not a maid. I’m a housekeeper and a cook.”
“I certainly would have never guessed that a daughter of mine would stoop to this degree. You have more of your mother in you each day.”
The barb doesn’t surprise me, as he’s always verbally torn down my mom with subtle passive-aggressive words. I sigh internally, glancing at my phone screen to see that I have thirteen minutes left to endure.
“Now that the man who murdered your own flesh and blood has been released from prison, I expect to have you back home, where it’s safe.”
“I like my job.” I don’t bother mentioning that the oldest Redford brother technically fired me over the weekend. “My best friend is sick and can’t keep up with all the housework and cooking alone. It’s not like I live there. I have my own apartment.” I pop my knuckles, frustrated that I’m even sitting here in this position, being forced to answer these questions.
I’m a grown adult woman. For some reason, cutting off my father despite his many shortcomings hasn’t been easy. So far, the only part that has been easy was letting go of the financial assistance. Even that has been difficult, considering my credit card debt grows almost daily.
I poke at the salad.
“If you’re going to be fraternizing with an ex-con, you could make it a point to listen in on any important conversations they might have. You heard any talk of The Riders?”
The skin on the back of my neck prickles. I swallow over a lump, reaching for a cold roll in the basket in the center of the table to butter it.
I shrug. “I don’t really hang out with the guys when they talk business. Dolly and I are always in the kitchen or around the house. Did you want to discuss Thanksgiving?” I mentally prepare myself to tell him I’ll be eating frozen pot pie on my couch, alone.
My father ignores my question. He leans forward, a dark smile curling on his thin lips. “Now, I know I didn’t have such a pretty daughter for nothing. You’re perfectly capable of getting one of them to spill something valuable to me. What about the one you ran around with during high school?”
I blanch at his words. He hated me for dating Duke. He hated it so much that he installed a spying app on my phone that would send him all of our text messages. He used to get the sheriff to pull Duke’s truck over anytime he saw it even if Duke wasn’t doing anything wrong. My father made our relationship so stressful, and to this day, I haven’t been able to forgive him for it even though Duke and I are way over.
I glance at my phone to note the time.
“I have to get going soon. I’m worried about Mom. Have you heard from her?” A subject change seems like the safest response at this point in the conversation.
He shakes his head, signaling to the waiter that he needs another glass of sweet tea. “Your mother is a woman with her own mind and her own life. We’re the type of couple who doesn’t check in every other hour.”
His dismissal is typical, yet the way he avoids eye contact with me while he says it raises a tiny pink flag in my mind.
Does he not know where she is?
“I talked to her yesterday, but she didn’t mention when she’d be home,” I muse.
He narrows his gaze, studying the floral design of my glass as condensation drips down it. The waitress returns with a pitcher of tea, smiling at my father as she reaches for his glass. She fills mine up next. I’ve always loved sweet tea, just like my dad. Every time we come here, he orders us two glasses of sweet tea with extra ice. It’s one of the rare tender moments we still share, but it always makes me smile.
“Can I get you anything else, Mayor Dixon?” Her Southern drawl is heavy with a flirtatious undertone, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes as his trail over her curves.
“Not today, Ashley. The food was excellent.” He watches her swaying hips as she sashays away.
My appetite has abandoned me, but I nibble on the buttered roll to have something to do with my hands. The ball in the pit of my stomach tightens with his next words, which he speaks as calmly as if he were ordering dessert.
“The man is responsible for spilling my little brother’s blood. Three and a half years behind bars doesn’t scratch the surface of paying for what he did. As your father, all I’m asking is for you to keep your ears open for any pertinent business-related information. He’s a hardened criminal, a murderer. I have it on good authority that he’s gotten himself mixed up with the wrong crowd while he was locked up.”
He waves at one of the town council members who just walked through the doors, as if he didn’t just drop a bomb on me.
As much as I despise him, there’s a chance he’s telling the truth about Holden.
Is he just trying to watch out for me?
What about what Dolly told me Cain was doing?
“I’m Dolly’s best friend. He loves her, and even if it were only for her sake, he wouldn’t hurt me.”
He scoffs, shaking his head as he pulls out two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and tosses them onto the white tablecloth.
“You’ll learn, Rosie. I just hope you find the sense to make the smart decision before it’s too late for you too.”
The following morning,I arrive at the ranch bright and early. For some strange, mysterious reason, I decided to wear muted pink lipstick and a push-up bra under my white V-neck today.
If Holden Redford expects to fire me, I’m hoping it’ll be slightly painful for him.
Is this beneath me?
Obviously.
Does it make me pathetic to use my body to try and keep my job?
Of course.
Am I doing it anyway because I love working here and I really don’t want to have to start job-hunting?
Also yes.
I strut through the front door like it’s just another Monday. The icky memory of lunch with my father washes over me, along with his comment about spying on the Redfords for him. The instant physical discomfort nearly makes me trip, but I shake my head, trying to get rid of it.
The kitchen is empty. It’s still early, just past seven in the morning. I start brewing a full pot of coffee, knowing it’ll be emptied as soon as the guys and Dolly make their way in. I’m sure a few of them are already up, checking on the animals in the barn.
I’m dumping the fresh grounds into the filter basket when I feel a warmth behind me.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” A deeply erotic morning voice right by my ear makes me gulp.
I spill the black grounds all over the white marble countertop. My heart is thundering in my ears. I manage to finish up making the pot, brushing the spilled grounds into my hand and dumping them in with the rest.
After pushing the Start button, I slowly turn around, tilting my head back to meet Holden’s gaze. The sharp, freshly shaved jawline, with stitches on the side, steals my focus for a split second before his full lips come into view, followed by an angular, strong nose and almost black eyes. His gaze is hard and unflinching.
“Coffee?” I ask, praying that my flushed neck isn’t visible to him in the dimly lit kitchen.
He moves forward, crowding me against the cabinetry with one step. My lower back is wedged up against it, but he still leans in close enough until his upper thigh is pressed against my hip bone. I gasp, barely audible, my right hand reaching back to grip the countertop to gain some kind of physical leverage.
“You don’t work here anymore,” he grits out, his rough, scratchy tone causing goose bumps to rise on my arms.
Is he trying to scare me?
I lift my chin. “I don’t take orders from you. You’re not my superior.”
My chest is rising and falling rapidly as we face off.
My father’s words are still fresh in my mind. “He’s a hardened criminal, a murderer.”
My pulse is a fluttering flag in the wind, wildly unmanaged.
Why does he have to smell so damn good though?
Like leather and cedar and musky soap. It fills my nostrils, weakening my knees. Holden flexes his jaw, and I catch his eyes as they roam down over my chest briefly before returning to meet my gaze.
Ha, gotcha.
“Are you trying to piss me off, Dixon?”
He leans farther down, reaching his hand up to brace it against the upper cabinets. His lower half is pinned against me, sending a flood of warmth over my already-flushed skin.
I respond in my sweetest, sultriest voice, “You sure you really want me to leave? Who will you mess with when I’m gone?”
I tilt my head to the side, calling his bluff. I hold my breath, willing him to smile, laugh, even just to back away in defeat. The room gets warmer with each second that crawls by.
He finally moves, reaching behind me with his other hand, sending a shock through my nervous system when he grips the back of my neck firmly with his strong fingers, reminding me just how big and dangerous he is. I’m completely at his mercy, powerless to fight him off if he wanted to actually hurt me.
He tilts closer to my ear until his breath sends a shudder down my spine. “I have no interest in my brother’s sloppy seconds.”
He takes a step back from me, immediately causing my nipples to harden with the cold air that hits me.
What the fuck does that mean?
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, trying to remain calm.
Is he suggesting that because I dated Duke in high school, I’m … used up?
He lifts his chin, folding his muscular, tanned arms across his chest. He’s wearing a soft-looking black T-shirt, stretched across his broad shoulders, the emblem on the front so faded that I can’t make it out. His whitewashed Wranglers make it hard to keep my eyes up, but really every part of him is delightful to look at.
Bastard.
“I told you Friday night that you’re done working here. If I have to change the locks on the house, I will. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding similar employment on another ranch after your display at Old Harry’s.”
I release the oxygen from my lungs, counting to ten slowly in my head before responding.
“Not that. What did you mean by sloppy seconds?”
He blinks at me, like my question is somehow confusing. Footsteps interrupt us, and Dolly’s voice breaks through the trance we were both in.
“Good morning! How’d you sleep?” She walks up to her brother, pulling him into a side hug. Her mood since his release is still upbeat, apparently.
Holden hugs her back, but doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “Fine.”
She seems to sense the tension, her smile dropping as she inspects his face before switching her gaze to mine. “What happened?”
I fold my arms to match his stance. “He fired me.”
Dolly gasps, her hand clapping against her chest. “Who fired you?”
Holden jerks his gaze from my face, turning his attention to Dolly’s clutched chest. “Are you okay?”
She’s still looking at me, and I indicate her oldest brother with my eyes, using our best-friends-since-first grade telepathy.
She turns to face him, her mouth rounded into an O-shape. “Holden James Redford. You can’t fire her! What were you thinking?”
His jaw is clenched as he observes her carefully, her hands now planted on her hips. He sighs, unfolding his arms and shaking his head.
“I’m not saying she can’t be your friend anymore, but we can’t take any risks right now with?—”
“Do you want me to be hospitalized? To pass out from all the work that needs to be done around here?” she demands.
He surveys his little sister, leaning back from her as she continues.
“I got really sick, Holden. Really, really sick … six months ago.” Her voice softens with what I sense is completely fake emotion.
The demeanor in the room darkens immediately.
He interrupts her. “Why the fuck was I not?—”
“We didn’t tell you because you couldn’t do anything about it anyway … but it was bad. Rosie showed up for me. She came over daily and made me soup, cleaned up, kept this place going and me company so the guys could work. After a week straight of it, Cash, Sterling, and Duke all insisted on paying her. I got better, but we agreed that hiring Rosie was the best decision for the ranch and for my health. It’s also ten times less lonely for me. Does that matter to you at all?”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up at the ceiling.
“You should have told me you were sick. Cash should have told me.” The pained sound of concern in his voice squeezes my heart. There’s also a hint of anger.
This is the same dick who just tried to intimidate and fire you for no reason.
He also called you sloppy seconds.
Fuck this guy. Fuck this guy so hard.
If he wasn’t my best friend’s brother and my employer and an ex-con, I would seriously consider punching him in his smug face.
He turns to me, taking a step in my direction. I plant my feet firmly on the kitchen floor, daring him to make another stupid, sexist comment, but he doesn’t even look at me. He reaches for the cabinet next to my head, extracting two mugs. He grabs the now-full coffeepot and fills the two cups, turning around to hand one to Dolly.
“She can stay. For you, Dolls.” He kisses the top of her head before leaving the room, not even bothering to give me another glance.
Dolly’s mouth gapes after him as he retreats through the back door. I turn, reaching for my own coffee mug. My pride stings, but at least I’m still employed.
“Rosie, what did I miss?” Her voice is an intense whisper. “Did he even give you a reason?”
I shrug. I don’t want to voice the part about being labeled sloppy seconds. It was hurtful enough, and I’m not ready to talk about it.
“He was pissed off about the wet T-shirt contest. He said it was a bad look for the ranch.”
Dolly raises a brow as she walks to the fridge to get the maple-flavored creamer—our favorite. “What? A bad look? That’s insane. If anything, you brought us more business. It must be something else.”
I take the creamer when she’s done, pouring myself some and stirring it in with a spoon. “I know you love him, but he was kind of a dick to me.”
She nods, her face softening. “I’m really sorry. He’s always been … difficult, but I can tell that prison changed him. I don’t think he’s anywhere near seeing past your last name. While we’ve all been healing and growing to fully trust you, seeing that you’re not at all like your father and uncle, Holden’s been rotting in a cell. He’s been actively suffering because of what they did … and the way he dealt with it, obviously. I think he just needs time to see you how I see you, how all of us do.”
I nod, taking a deep breath and letting her words caress my bruised ego. As much as I’m reeling from his words and the fact that he’s so hell-bent on getting rid of me, I know she’s right.
“He hates me. He fucking hates me, Dolly.” I release a shaky exhale.
She nods, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m going to talk to him, okay? Maybe you two just need time to talk, to express your hurt and his anger?”
I shake my head, pulling back from her. “I think it would be best if we just kept away from each other. He’s adapting back to normal life, and I’m a hindrance.”
The dishwasher needs emptying, so I start working on it. “Maybe my presence here just reminds him of everything that happened that night.”
My stomach feels queasy at the thought. Holden actively wants to get rid of me and hasn’t been subtle about it, but whenever that night comes up in my head, I still picture him in the hay, getting a blow job.
Against my will, the scene appears in my mind every time I use my bullet vibrator. I’m tortured and intensely aroused by it, so much so that I’m disgusted with myself. Feeling what I thought was his boner in the pantry when I was drunk last week has only made it worse, and now, the tension between us is making me ache in all the wrong ways.
I’ve never even experienced sex, but I know with one hundred percent certainty that it would be mind-fucking-shattering with him. I’ve fantasized about it more times than I can count.
And now, he’s back here, so deliciously sexy and fucking mean as hell to me. I’m pathetic, but I can’t tell Dolly about it. I’ll take these humiliating feelings to my grave.
She rushes to my side, cupping my face tenderly. “You had nothing to do with it. You were an innocent bystander. He just needs to get acclimated to you being here—that’s all. We should’ve warned him that you were working here. Either way, neither of you is going anywhere. You’re both too important to me.”