Chapter 9
nine
. . .
Rosalie
Save a Horse, Ride My Fake Boyfriend
Unfortunately, I have to admit that I am beginning to have a teeny, tiny, minuscule crush on my new fake boyfriend.
God, I know. I shouldn’t. I can’t.
I don’t even know how it happened.
But Jesus, the man is so freaking hot.
And despite my first impression of him, I’m starting to realize that I may have been wrong about him, and that has been a slightly bitter pill to swallow.
But I can admit when I’m wrong, and so far… I’m wrong. After getting to know him more the other night and finding out who he is beyond the guy that I first met, I’ve learned that he’s actually kind and cares deeply about his family and friends, and he’s a hard worker and the best dog dad.
There’s nothing hotter than a good dad in any form, and most women would agree.
And then there was the touching and what I thought was an almost kiss that has kept me up at night for the last few days.
I’m fairly sure I’ve never in my life been so tempted, but regardless of how badly I would like to climb that man like a twelve-foot-tall Christmas tree… we’re not going there.
The last thing either of us needs is to make this more complicated and messier than it’ll already be once it’s over. Even though our fake dating will be ending after the holidays, we’re still going to be neighbors. Our businesses literally share a wall.
And sex complicates everything.
But…
No, Rosalie, my God. No orgasm is worth the headache that it’ll bring afterward.
I think?
I remind myself of that fact for the hundredth time since the other night at his house, where I sat on his stupid comfy couch, and he looked at me with those bourbon-colored eyes and grabbed my chin, leaning in so close I held my breath like he was about to kiss me.
A very large, very irresponsible part of me wished that he had.
It’s barely 6:00 a.m. when I glance at the clock, hearing the loud knock on my front door. Tossing the blankets off with a groan, I amble over to the front door and swing it open.
For a moment, I just blink.
My brain is now fogged by the six-foot-three, bearded, infuriating, sexy man who’s currently standing at my front door, wearing Carhartt and a smile, holding a large coffee cup from Frosty’s in his hand.
“Mornin’.” His voice is a deep, raspy velvet and not at all helping with my onslaught of sudden horniness in his presence.
When Penny barks behind me, he chuckles. “Mornin’ to you too, Penny girl.” He lifts my favorite red cup between us. “Brought your favorite coffee from Frosty’s.”
I nearly groan as I all but snatch it out of his hands with slight desperation. The only way I’m getting through this day is with caffeine and a prayer. I’ve got to be downstairs for work in the next twenty minutes, and I literally just rolled out of bed to this.
“I’m far too tired to interrogate you about why you’re at my door at 6:00 a.m. with my favorite coffee, so I’ll just take this and say thank you very much.” I moan after taking a sip, letting it fuel my veins. Wait… “You know my coffee order?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “I pay attention.”
He. Pays. Attention? To me?
We were in line next to each other, what… twice at Frosty’s, and he memorized my coffee order? I was clearly too focused on the fact that he was stealing the last blueberry muffin from beneath me to notice him paying me any attention.
I try not to fixate on his confession, but it feels improbable when I’m starting to be in crush territory. This isn’t good.
Not at all.
His lip curls up in a small smile as his gaze moves over me, dropping down my body in a slow descent. “Cute.”
Following his gaze, I glance down and quickly realize I’m still in my pajamas, obviously not planning on having visitors. I’ve had this since high school. An old set featuring reindeer that doesn’t cover much at all, now that I’m thinking about it, and a pair of fuzzy slippers.
“Shit. Sorry, um… come in?” My voice comes out unusually high as I nudge the door open wider with my foot. “I’m going to go get changed. I have to be at work in a few minutes anyway. I just… overslept a bit.”
He doesn’t need to know that it was partially his fault that I was up until the wee hours of the night.
Thinking about him. Wondering if he was going to kiss me.
Wells moves past me into my apartment, and I shut the door behind him.
Suddenly, it feels small with his massive body inside. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket, and he’s wearing a pair of old, worn light-wash jeans that hug his muscular legs.
Hockey player thighs for suuuure.
“Thank you again for the coffee. But also, what are you doing here? I mean, it’s a very sweet, boyfriendy thing to do, but no one is here to see it.”
He takes a step toward me, then another, still wearing that sexy smirk that makes my stomach flip.
“I figured the coffee would lessen the blow that we’re going to have to move this fake date thing up a bit.
I got a call from my brother this morning that he’s coming into town early this weekend, and he can’t wait to meet my new girl. ”
Shit.
“Like… this weekend? As in tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d be seeing any of my family until we went to the cabin, but looks like that plan’s moved up some. You okay with that?” Reaching up, he rubs his palm along the back of his neck, his expression seemingly hopeful.
I thought I’d have more time to mentally prepare for this, but I guess we don’t have another choice. We’re diving in headfirst. Ripping it off like a Band-Aid.
“I guess we’ve got to be. It’ll be fine.
I think. I hope. I’m pretty sure. Probably.
” I’m rambling, so I snap my mouth shut and offer him an awkward smile.
“Sooo… you came by just to tell me about your brother? You didn’t have to go out of your way to bring coffee, you know? You could’ve just texted.”
“Wasn’t out of my way. Right next door, remember?”
Oh. Yeah.
He steps closer, his voice dropping an octave.
“Just so you know, I brought you coffee this morning because if we’re convincing everyone you are my girl, then she’d need it after I kept her up all night, exhausting her body until she couldn’t move.
Gotta take care of her. After all, optics are everything right now, yeah? ”
Holy Santa on a sleigh.
The floor feels like it quakes beneath my outrageously fuzzy slippers, but I think it might just be my legs trembling when I try to press my thighs together.
I’m trying to formulate a response to that when he winks and steps back. “Gotta head to the bar. Have a good day… Sugar.”
It’s nearly lunchtime, and I’m still thinking about this morning and the word sugar in Wells’ sexy, deep voice over and over.
Safe to say I have not been focusing on what I should be doing, which is working. I almost burned the tips of my fingers off with three hundred degrees of sugar base while attempting to make a batch of candy canes.
The word sugar has taken on a whole new meaning.
Groaning, I drop my pen onto the counter next to the cash register. I can’t freaking focus.
“Everything alright, sweetheart?” Grams asks, suddenly appearing in front of me, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.
My hand flies to my chest, clutching my now racing heart. “Jesus, Grams, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
Penny’s head pops up from her bed in the corner, and she whines when I shriek, as taken by surprise as I am.
She chuckles, lifting her brow and peering down at me over the top of her glasses. “You’ve been distracted today. Something going on?”
“Nope, nothing at all,” I mutter. “Why would anything be going on?”
And why is she looking at me like that? All… Grams-ish.
And why the heck is Penny somehow giving me the exact same look?
Jesus.
I look down, busying myself with cleaning up the counter, except it’s not really messy at all, and I’m just moving pens, notebooks, and receipts around to different spots in an attempt to avoid her gaze.
She totally knows.
Shit.
“Rosalie Sullivan, I know you better than you know yourself, and I witnessed you with those candy canes earlier. You’re normally careful to a fault,” she says, and I shove a gulp down my throat.
Damn, am I this transparent?
I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the handsome young man next door, now would it?” she asks with a bit too much hope in her voice.
Damnit on Dancer.
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Like I give that man any space in my brain. He’s to—”
“Oh, please, Rosalie, you know the whole town is talking about the two of you. Honestly, I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t tell me yourself and that I had to hear it from Marge down at the hair salon.
You know how that woman is with her gossip.
She couldn’t wait to talk to me about my granddaughter and her lovely new beau. ” Her voice is now playfully scolding.
Busted.
I groan and drop my head back against the candy-striped wall behind me. “Ugh. Of course they do. Marge is the equivalent of Gossip Girl, but the small-town version. If she knew how to work a cell phone or the internet, we’d all be screwed, Grams.”
When she walks past me toward the kitchen, a knowing look on her face, I follow behind her.
“Plus, it’s… new,” I say in defense. “We’re still getting to know each other. And you know we wanted to be able to do that without the pressure from every single person in Mistletoe Falls.”
We pass through the kitchen entryway, and Gramps is at the counter, prepping for a new batch of truffles. He looks up at us, that silly little striped hat on his head that he insists on wearing making him look like the most adorable candy maker in the world.
“What did I miss?”
I tamp down another groan as I slide onto the barstool beside him at the very same moment that Grams says, “We were just discussing Rosalie and Wells dating. They’re the talk of the town, honey. Maybe our girl finally has a beau worthy of her.”
He looks up from the chocolate with a wide, pleased smile. One that causes my chest to have a sudden pain, and for the first time, I feel truly guilty for this thing with Wells.
“It’s not serious, Gramps. Please, do not look so excited. We’re still in the very early stage of our relationship, and who knows what could happen. This could be very short-lived.”
It will be very short-lived, but I keep that little piece of information to myself.
“Or it could be a great, beautiful love. The best one you’ve ever known, sweet pea. Give it a chance,” he adds with a wink before turning his attention back to the chocolate he’s setting in the mold. “Plus, I quite like him if you’re asking me. He’s a good man.”
Great. Even Gramps is in the Wells McCoy fan club.
Although I’m also its newest member. Mostly because I’m unbearably attracted to this man. I would not mind in the least if he tied me up with a strand of Christmas lights and had his delicious way with me.
Therein lies the problem.
“Um… well, thank you, Gramps. It is important to me that whoever I date is someone that you and Grams love too,” I say softly. “You’re the most important people in my life. Always.”
Grams steps in beside the barstool and wipes her hands on her apron before sliding her arm around me. “And you are the light of our lives, Rosalie. You know that Gramps and I just want you to be happy. No matter who that happiness is with.”
I nod, smiling. “I know.”
“It doesn’t hurt that he sure is easy to look at,” she adds cheekily, mischievous amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, you should see all of the ladies from Pokeno. They can’t seem to get enough of that man. I swear, he’s the only thing they talk about anymore.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Well, that’s because he’s probably the most exciting thing to happen here in the last five years.”
She nods. “That’s true. The last time I heard the girls this excited was when they started doing bingo on Saturday nights down at the community center.
You know…” She trails off, walking over to Gramps and reaching for one of the chocolate nutcrackers that have cooled, and picks it up.
“You should go on over to Well + Good and bring your beau some sweets to get him through the day. What do you think, Percy?”
Gramps nods enthusiastically. “You know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“Yeah, and it’s the least you could do since he brought you your favorite coffee from Frosty’s this morning,” Grams adds.
My eyes widen.
How in the heck did she even know about that?
“Now, go on. Bring your man a box of these sweet treats. Your Gramps and I can handle things here until you get back.” She thrusts a Sweet Sullivan’s box toward me that’s now full of a variety of our signature candies.
“Wait, you mean like right now? As in this very second?” I say incredulously. “It’s the middle of the workday. Surely he’s busy right now, Grams. Doing important… bar owner stuff.”
She pops a brow at me. “Well, you never know until you try. Go on. Outta here.”
Begrudgingly, I take the box from her with an exasperated sigh. Another day of being bullied by my matchmaking grandparents.
Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah.