14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
B raxton
I need to see her.
Entering Salty's, I see her friend wiping down the bar. She catches my eye and shakes her head before I even ask the question.
"Day off," she says, her knowing smile telling me she’s on to me.
Looking behind me, her smile widens, and she says loudly, “There’s the ol’ ball and chain! Did you come to get hot and heavy in the bathroom?”
My eyes widen in surprise at her comment, but when I turn around, it makes perfect sense.
I see a tall, hulking, beach bum-looking man with a grin on his face.
“Brax! You fucker! I like seeing you in the light of day. You done lurking in the corner at night stalking our Rose?” he teases.
Ash Montgomery, my friend, financial advisor, and the man who convinced me to move to this sleepy bay side town, reaches out for a big bro hug.
To look at him, you wouldn’t dream that he’s a billionaire with a knack for making money on the stock market. He looks like he spends the day on his boat, drinking, and picking up women.
He’s walking proof that looks are deceiving. While he spends his days hanging out on one of his many boats because of his passion for fishing, he likely drinks what I suspect is high-end whiskey, but he most definitely doesn’t pick up women. Ash is happily married and I suspect the woman in front of me might be his bride, or I hope it is.
“Well, I work a lot during the day, and I’ve been trying to meet deadlines. Turned into somewhat of a night owl.” It’s kind of the truth, but damned if I’ll admit to stalking Rose.
“Yeah, but he has time to get to know his neighbors, or should I say ‘neighbor’,” Lila says with a wink in my direction
“You've been talking to our sweet Primrose?”
“More like dealing with her devil dog,” I say defensively, not prepared to reveal my feelings for Rose.
“I swear Honeybun is human,” he says with a laugh. “I love that damn dog.” Then, his eyes narrow, “You aren’t messing with her, are you?” He understands the age difference. After all, it appears he and his wife have their own age gap.
“Everyone in Sea Shanty is protective of Rose. Don’t be fucking around with her. She’s our little ray of sunshine. Don’t break her.” He says, as serious as I’ve ever seen him.
“Ditto what he said.” A tall man comes out of the backroom carrying a crate of alcohol. “We’ll take you out to sea and make you fish chum.” His eyes flash with the warning.
“Jack, Ash,” Lila groans, “Y’all leave the man alone. I have a feeling he knows her worth.” Her eyes twinkle. “Go find Rose. She’s probably at home.”
"Thanks," I mumble, thankful for Lila. “Let’s do drinks soon.” I wave goodbye to Ash, Lila, and whoever Jack is.
Eventually, I make my way to Rose’s cottage. Her porch is decorated with a painted bench and colorful pillows, and twinkle lights. I smile because above the door there's a sign that declares 'Rose's Retreat' in looping, cheerful letters. Her personality is everywhere.
I rap my knuckles against the screen door, with no response. Her hippy golf cart, with daisy decals and beads hanging from the rearview mirror, sits in the drive and I can see lights glowing in the front room, so I know she’s home.
"Rose?" I knock again, harder this time, peering through the tiny window on the door for any sign of movement.
"Rose, it's Braxton." Worry gnaws at my gut. Surely, she's here.
A flicker of movement catches my eye. I look towards the window just as Honeybun's head appears, his brown eyes large, a low whine coming through the glass pane.
"Hey, boy," I murmur, my voice laced with unease. That's when I see her, Rose, sprawled across the couch. My knuckles rap against the window.
"Rose!" I call out, louder now, but she doesn't stir.
Panic surges, urging me into motion. I go to open the screen and front door, which gives way easily because they're both unlocked. A surge of anger cuts through me.
Damn it, Rose . She shouldn’t be so careless. She’s too trusting. I can't stand the thought of anyone or anything hurting her.
I step inside and close the door behind me with a soft click, my anger disappearing as quickly as it flared. The sight of Rose on her couch makes my blood run cold.
"Rose?" My voice is gentle now. She's motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A sheen of sweat clings to her skin, making her fair hair stick to her forehead.
Even now, my heart stutters at her beauty.
"Rose, can you hear me?" I lean closer, reaching out to brush the back of my hand against her cheek. It's hot to the touch and worry crashes over me.
Honeybun, sensing the gravity of the situation, whines softly. He seems to be begging me to do something.
"Alright, buddy," I murmur, "let's take care of our girl."
"Come on, Rose," I whisper, "I've got you."
I scoop Rose into my arms, her body limp and far too warm against mine. Her head lolls back, and she still doesn’t respond. Urgency moves me through the narrow hallway to the bathroom, with a clawfoot tub. I need to get her fever down, then decide if she needs the emergency room.
With one arm cradling Rose, I twist the taps, until it’s the perfect temperature to cool her without sending her body into shock. My fingers test the water, lingering for a moment as I brace for the next step.
"Forgive me, Rose," I whisper. Gently, I begin to undress her, efficiently removing her clothes, but not without an awareness of the intimacy of the act. Her skin, flushed from the fever, seems even more delicate now. I’m forcing myself to ignore every curve, every line of her body being exposed to my gaze as I complete the task.
Focus, Braxton. This isn’t about desire; it’s about necessity.
I lower her into the tub, supporting her head to keep it above water. The bath is almost clinical. Just swiping her fevered body with a cool cloth, wishing it were under different circumstances. This isn't how I imagined seeing all of her creamy, exposed curves for the first time.
Once it’s done, I lift her out, wrapping her in a towel, and patting her dry, avoiding any unnecessary lingering touches. On the hook, behind the door, hangs a cotton gown. Nothing revealing or sexy, just pretty and innocent. Like Rose.
I dress her, sliding the gown over her head, then tuck her into bed. Her breaths come easier now, less labored, but she still feels warm to the touch. Definitely not as warm as before.
Honeybun hovers nearby. "Come here, boy," I say softly, patting the space by Rose's feet. He hesitates, his gaze flickering between me and his owner. "It's okay. Stay with her."
He obeys, curling up in the spot next to her. I give him a “good boy” and a pat on the head before rising to look in Rose's kitchen for anything that might pass as food or medicine.
The cupboards are a disappointment. The fridge is no better: half-empty, except for a few questionable leftovers.
Pulling out my phone, I use a local grocery delivery app to order broth, tea, honey, fresh fruit, vegetables, some chicken, and basic essentials that should have already been in her kitchen. I add in a few comfort items, like ice cream, knowing she'll appreciate it when she's better. A call to the pharmacy and I’m also getting some over-the-counter medicine delivered.
Orders placed, I return to her side, lying over the colorful quilt, willing her to get better. I miss her sweet voice.