12. Chapter Twelve
“Ithink I’m gonna turn in for the night,” I say, pushing out of my chair. There are only so many drunken fishing stories a man can handle in one evening, and besides, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Rose ever since they announced dinner. She said she wasn’t hungry but hadn’t eaten all day. I wish I knew what was on her mind.
Once upon a time, Rose would have shared all her secrets with me. It’s probably my fault for not trying harder to keep in touch after she left for Dallas, but after Camille got pregnant with Gemma and I took over the family ranch, I lost track of time. A small part of me even wondered if she was mad at me, but Camille always insisted that she’d come around if we gave her time. I guess I never expected it to take so long. I forgot how much I’ve missed having her around.
I’m lost in my thoughts when the elevator rings on the tenth floor, and I step out into the hall. There’s a musty smell, and I spot several maintenance workers with toolboxes coming from the opposite side of the hallway. Nancy told me at dinner how she reserved the hotel the week before their grand opening, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re still working out the kinks.
What alerts me is when they stop at the door next to mine. That’s Rose’s room.
I jog the rest of the way down the hall, and before I can ask what’s going on, Rose pulls open the door in a fitted tank top and boxer shorts.
“Rose—“ Feeling like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I look away and clear my throat.
“My a/c went out,” she says as if reading my mind. Her eyes shift from me to a short, stocky maintenance man with a nametag that says ‘Victor’ and the rest of his crew. “How soon before you can get it back up and running?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We won’t know until we get in there and take a look.”
“Well, is there another room you can put me in until you do?” If I know anything about Rose, it’s that I can always count on her to be polite, but judging by the color of her cheeks, I can tell she’s miserable.
“Most rooms don’t have beds yet except the ones reserved for the weekend. I can call downstairs and see if the bar is still open.” Rose’s expression falls when he breaks the news, and I can tell things are about to go south.
“Hold on a minute,” I say, hoping to diffuse the situation. “Let me check my room.” I pull out my key card and slip it into the card slot on the door, then turn the handle. When I push open the door, much to my relief, a cool blast of air escapes into the hallway. “Looks like mine’s still working. You’re welcome to come hang out while they sort things out.”
Rose looks at Victor, then at me. “Are you sure? I… I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing. It’d be welcome company after fending off Maybell all night.” I mean it as a joke, but Rose doesn’t seem amused.
“Yeah,” she says, looking back at the maintenance crew. “I’ll just grab a few things then, I guess. And you all will let me know when it’s fixed?”
“Yes. We will let you know,” Victor says, waiting for her to motion for him and his workers to follow behind her.
A few minutes later, Rose meets me at the door that adjoins our rooms with her purse and a small toiletry bag. Only this time, she’s paired a long flannel robe and house shoes with her previous attire. I realize I might be the only man in Texas happy about the fact she’s covered up, but seeing Rose’s smooth, long legs and toned arms not five minutes ago stirred something up inside me. Something I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.
“Are you hungry? I brought you a plate,” I say, placing a to-go box I packed from the dinner buffet on the desk.
“That’s very sweet of you, but I—“
“It’s fettuccine alfredo… with chicken.”
“Ugh… seriously?!“ I watch her eyes light up with amusement. “You sure know your way to a woman’s heart, Carter.”
“Just yours,” I say sheepishly. Fettuccine alfredo has always been one of Rose’s favorites.
She rolls her eyes, and I pull the desk chair out as she slides into the leather seat. “It does smell good,” she says.
“It might be a little cold, but I promise you’ll love it. I don’t have anything to drink, though. I’m going to run down to the vending machines. Do you want water or something?”
“Mmmm, water would be great,” she says with a mouth full of pasta.
“Great. I’ll be right back.”
I pull a few crisp dollar bills out of my wallet and grab the ice bucket on my way out. I’m only out for a few minutes, but when I return, Rose stands with the door to her room open and talks to Victor.
“More bad news,” she says with a sour look. “Looks like they don’t have the parts they need to fix my a/c.”
I look at Victor, and he shrugs. “Sorry. That’s the best we can do.”
“It’s okay. She can stay in my room for the night.” When I offer, she looks up at me with wide eyes, and I can’t tell if she’s mad or mortified. Maybe she’s both. But what other options do we have?
“Fine. I’ll uh…,” she says, turning to look at my room’s only queen-sized bed. “I’ll just sleep here, I guess.”
After Victor and his crew pack up to leave, I keep things light. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned since Camille passed, it’s that laughter is a bridge over troubled waters. And Rose... well, she deserves to cross over without getting wet.
But I can tell there’s more on her mind than she’s letting on to.
After she throws the empty to-go box in the trash, I give the bed next to me a non-threatening pat, and she reluctantly joins me on top of the covers as I kick off my dress boots. “Make yourself at home. I can take the floor.”
“Please, what is this? A California King? You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Henry.”
“Hey, just trying to be a gentleman. I want you to be comfortable.” I look over, and she seems like she’s fighting to keep from crying. “Whoa, Rose. What’s going on? Did I say something wrong?”
“No. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just…” Her voice sounds strained, and any light in her eyes is gone. “I’m just so tired of pretending to be okay.”
“Pretending?” Now I’m perplexed. “What do you mean?”
She’s silent for a long moment, and I give her space until she’s ready. “Remember when I told you that Jace and I were having problems with the business? Well, there’s more. The same day I returned to Sugar Plum, I—“ She pauses and wipes her face with the back of her sleeve. “I found out Jace had an affair.”
My heart drops when she says the words, and it’s almost too much to process. I want to pull her into my arms and comfort her. I want her to feel safe and protected. And more importantly, I want to find the piece of trash that betrayed her trust and make him wish he’d never been born.
“I’m so sorry, Rose.” The words may come easy, but they feel hollow. Nothing I say can fix how she must be feeling right now. I pull a few tissues from a box on the nightstand and hand them to her.
“Thanks,” she says with a sniffle. “No one knows except for my parents. And Julie. And now you, I guess. It’s why I was so afraid of coming here tonight. And when Nancy asked me about Jace, I—“
“Rose, I would’ve never let you volunteer yourself had I known—“
“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. If anything, I should be thanking you for saving me from Nancy. It was nice feeling like I had someone in my corner for a change. I just don’t want to give any of them a reason to talk.”
I think back to the auction, and it all makes sense now. This isn’t the same Rose from high school helping out an old friend. This is a woman who just had her heart ripped out and stomped on and is trying to save face in a town of thirsty bloodhounds salivating for their next piece of gossip. I can’t blame her for not wanting people to get the wrong idea.
I place my hand on her back. “You’re one of the strongest women I know. You’ll get through this. Plus, you’ve got me right here beside you. I’d never let anyone hurt you.”
“Thanks, Henry. I wish I didn’t feel so lost right now. It’s like I don’t even know who I am without Jace. Or without the business we built together.”
“You’re Rose,” I say firmly, pouring every ounce of belief I have into my words. “You’re smart, caring, and you’ve got a heart the size of Texas. You’re going to figure this out.”
“Your faith in me means more than you know,” she says with a smile.
I squeeze her shoulder, wishing there was more I could do to ease her pain. “And for what it’s worth, your secret is safe with me.”
***
I wake the following day to Rose lying next to me, and even when sleeping, she’s beautiful. I mean what I said about wanting to protect her. All I’ve ever wanted to do is keep her safe. Even when we were kids, there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
“Morning, sleepyhead. Ready to go downstairs and grab some breakfast?”
She stirs, her hair a tousled mess across the pillow. “Mmm... I’ll pass. Never been much of a breakfast person.”
“Never been—?” I clutch a hand over my heart. “You realize it’s the most important meal of the day, right? At least let me bring something back for you.”
A smile cracks on her lips, and she opens an eye to peek over at me. “I’m good. Seriously, I don’t need anything.”
“Alright,” I say, laughing and shaking my head. “Coffee it is.”
“Only if it’s strong enough to kick-start a tractor.”
“I think I can manage that.” I flash her a grin, feeling that familiar tug in my chest—a mix of affection and something else. Something more profound. “So, no decaf.”
“Decaf’s for quitters,” she says, giving a smile that reaches her eyes.
I feel her watch me as I head for the door, and something about her gaze makes me want to climb back into bed and waste the rest of the morning in bed with her. I never thought I’d be this comfortable sharing a hotel room with anyone so fast, but then again, Rose isn’t just anyone.
The elevator stops on the ground floor, and I enter the lobby with dreams of a hot stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and a fresh cup of coffee. Sadly, my dreams hit a wall when I see the breakfast spread—or lack thereof. The hotel’s free advertised breakfast buffet appears to be nothing more than a few stale bagels sitting under a plastic dome. And to add to make matters worse, the only coffee left is decaf.
“Decaf’s for quitters,” I mutter. If this is what passes for morning fuel around here, that tractor’s going to stay dead in the water. Rose will have my head if I bring her back this garbage.
“Excuse me,” I flag down a staff member who looks more interested in his phone than he is in offering customer service. “Any chance you’ve got some real coffee back there?”
He doesn’t even bother looking up. “Sorry. We’re out.”
“Out?” I feel like one of those cartoon characters right after getting smacked in the face with a frying pan. “How does a hotel run out of regular coffee?”
“Busy weekend,” he says, shrugging as if that explains everything. Never mind that only a third of their rooms are in use.
“Right.” My stomach growls, and I realize I’m not just disappointed. I’m downright angry. I grab a bagel out of sheer spite, give it a skeptical squeeze, and drop it back on the table.
Feeling defeated, I head back to my room and notice Rose is gone along with her things. They must have fixed her a/c, which is good, seeing as I returned empty-handed.
I turn for the bathroom, hoping a little soap and hot water will wash away my disappointment, but the shower does nothing to satisfy my growing hunger pains. When I step out of the tub, I reach for a towel and wrap it around my waist.
Just as I reach for the door handle, a sudden weight against it comes from the other side. I pull it open and—“Oof!“ I collide head-on with Rose, who is now standing with both hands planted firmly on my bare chest, eyes wide with horror.