Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
BASH
It’s pouring outside. Romilly ducks into my car and buckles herself in.
I want to laugh at the way she hastily avoids the rain because, for once, her clothes are wet from the dogs we worked on.
A combination of her subtle lavender scent and the fruity smelling dog products from the day swirls in the air around us.
“This is just a ploy to get me to trust you, isn’t it?
” She smiles as she says it, so I’m sure it’s supposed to be a joke, but for some reason, it doesn’t sit right.
Maybe because her smile looks so tired and defeated.
“Does that happen to you a lot?”
“No.” She laughs. “Well, actually, just once, but it doesn’t matter.”
I frown, hoping if I stay silent she’ll continue. Elaborate. She does.
“I had an ex named Cole. He really was the sweetest guy. The whole package, honestly.”
A knot of jealousy forms in my gut at hearing her say “the whole package.” I have no idea what that means to her, but I doubt it’s anything close to someone like me—a privileged rebel who likes to fight people.
“He used to go out of town a lot for work,” she continues, “and one day he never came back and stopped returning my calls. Everything was going great between us. We didn’t get in a fight or anything, but he just…
left.” She says it so pleasantly, as if we’re discussing her favorite animal.
“He eventually reached back out and admitted he’d been seeing another woman out of town the entire time, so that explained all the trips.
” A small laugh. “And the not coming back.”
My thoughts cloud over as I imagine what she’s saying.
How worried she must have been when he never came back, never returned her calls.
How confused she must have felt, and eventually, how angry.
It explains so much about her. “He let you down,” I mutter.
“That excuse for a man destroyed your trust, didn’t he? ”
She’s silent. I risk a glance at her, but she’s staring out the window. I return to the road. “Romilly…I can’t even begin to explain how angry that makes me. That someone could do that to you. You’re so kind, and intelligent, and lovely.”
Way to say too much, Bash. You’re going to scare her away.
But I feel her gaze shift to my face. “Thank you.”
There’s a clear tension in the air between us as I drive.
Neither of us speaks for a long moment. The only sound is the raindrops pelting against the windshield, and Romilly tapping her fingers against the car door as if she’s deep in thought.
“What about you? Any heartbreakers leave their mark on you?” With a slight eye-roll, she grins at me.
“As someone who’s spent a great deal of life avoiding long-term relationships, I’m afraid not.” The statement should make me feel smug, but it makes me feel uneasy, as if Romilly’s going to judge me now.
But she sighs. “I totally get it. I sometimes wish I’d done the same, to be honest.”
A deep sense of comfort settles over me. Being around her makes me feel at ease in a way I never have. I enjoy her presence.
There’s still a tiny part of my brain that whispers, no, Bash. You’re tired of being controlled, and love will only tie you down.
But it’s not as if I’m going to fall in love with Romilly.
Dating her doesn’t guarantee that. And I can’t deny it anymore—I want to date her.
For the first time in my life, I actually want to see where a deep, meaningful connection might take me.
But only because it’s her . No one else has ever made me want to try so badly.
I glance at her. “Romilly, I?—”
A loud crash against the hood of the car makes me slam on my brakes.
What in the world?
My body pushes hard into my seatbelt as the tires screech against the wet asphalt. As the car lurches sideways, my temple smacks the doorframe with a sharp crack that leaves my vision flashing white.
My heart races like I’ve run a marathon while I frantically process what’s happening.
We’re the only car on the road, and a giant tree branch has crashed onto the hood. The windshield is thankfully still clear, but one end of the branch must have skidded its way up because there’s a hairline crack traveling upward from the bottom of the glass.
For a heartbeat, all I hear is the engine ticking and my own pulse roaring in my ears. Panic claws its way up my throat as I turn to Romilly. Her eyes are wide, hands out in front of her as if to brace herself, and she’s breathing heavily.
I unbuckle and reach for her. “Are you all right?” Taking hold of her face, I bring her gaze to mine so I can inspect her eyes. As a fighter, I’ve had enough concussions to know what to look for, but it’s a little hard to focus with her face in my hands.
She pulls away and nods. “I’m fine, Bash. But you have a cut on your head.”
I turn to the dash, holding up my hands. “Why on earth didn’t the airbags deploy?”
“Who knows?”
I stare her down. “Are you sure you don’t feel dizzy? Are you bruised anywhere?”
Romilly places her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “I’m fine. I promise.” She giggles. “It’s just a fallen branch, and thankfully it’s spindly. Your windshield looks a little cracked. But it’s not shattered or anything, see? It could have been way worse.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I-I shouldn't have taken my eyes off the road. I put us both in danger. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. We’re okay.” Romilly’s face softens as she stares at me, the humor melting away.
I’m not sure what she sees, but whatever it is must be notable, because her hands inch toward my face from where they were resting on my shoulders.
I don’t dare move a muscle as her gaze searches mine.
I thought it was hard to focus while touching her cheeks, but to have her palms against my own feels like a dream.
Romilly stiffens and bites her lip.
She must be uncomfortable with how close we are right now. I’m about to back up and give her space, but then she looks at my mouth and blushes.
Does she…want me to kiss her?
Romilly leans in closer, and her lashes sweep down in a slow blink.
My pulse races as I pull her closer. For the briefest moment, our breaths mingle. Her lips are only inches from mine, but then she swallows hard and says, “We should probably get out of the middle of the road so there are no more accidents today.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, you’re right.” But as I get out of the car and lift the wet, fallen branch from the windshield, I can’t make the disappointment fade.
We almost kissed. But she stopped it.
I try to think about something else the whole way to her place. When we arrive, she opens the passenger door to get out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“There’s no work tomorrow.”
“No.” She smirks. “But from what I hear, your sister is making brunch, so you can count me in.” And then she closes the door and struts to her front door without a backward glance.
I grin as I stare after her and watch her get in before I drive away.
She’s coming. Romilly is coming to brunch in the morning.
Ingrid will be thrilled.
And maybe I wasn’t imagining it. Maybe Romilly likes me more than I thought.
“Is it too late for you to call her and cancel?” Bright red spots appear on Ingrid’s pale cheeks, perfectly matching her copper hair.
“Will you just relax?” I shake my head at her. “You were excited only a moment ago.”
She stares at me like I’m swing-dancing in a hospital. “That was before you told me what an amazing cook she is.”
I don’t know why she’s so worried. The country potatoes Ingrid made this morning would put anyone’s to shame. And I can’t deny how impressed I was, watching her simultaneously whip up a delicious looking egg scramble while whistling a tune of blissful contentment.
But then I went and said, like an idiot, “It reminds me of the sourdough Romilly baked at her cottage.”
“Sourdough?” Ingrid turned to face me, her spatula frozen in hand. “She bakes? How old is her starter?”
“I don’t know what that means, but she’s an even better chef than ours back home.”
“She’s better than Berta?” It was then that Ingrid gnawed on her lip and exited the kitchen. When she returned, she begged me to cancel, just like she is now.
“I’m going to embarrass myself,” Ingrid mutters from behind her hands, which are currently covering her face. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m in over my head.”
“Trust me, she’s nothing like the people back home. She’s kind and gracious. You have nothing to worry about.” In fact, if Romilly is the person I think she is, she’ll be just as flattering about Ingrid's cooking whether she pulls off the meal or burns it to a crisp.
“Yeah, right. Just tell her I’m sick or something.”
I scrub a hand over my face. I can't send Romilly away. Not after the effort it took to get her here in the first place. No way.
And then she texts me.
Romilly
I’m outside! Coming to the door.
“Sorry, sis. She's already here," I tell Ingrid. "Please don't ruin this for me."
“Good heavens.” She smiles a pinched, saccharine smirk. "I make no promises. And if she so much as alludes to this meal being amateur, I'll show her the door before she has a chance to unfold her napkin."
I want to strangle her. Never mind her opinions of the snooty, judgmental crowd our parents surrounded us with.
This is Romilly she's talking about. My sister has no idea how she behaves.
"You're going to eat your words," I mutter as I walk past her to the door where she’s waiting.
"The woman is practically Grace Kelly reincarnated. "
Ingrid lifts her orange juice glass, toasting, and then downs the contents. I'm grateful when she paces to the kitchen to finish up the food, because I don't want her to witness how anxious I’m about to get. Anxious, because Romilly is on the other side of the door.
I open it in a single, wide movement. "You're here," I say, breathless. “Hi.”
A trace of pink creeps onto her cheeks. "I'm here. Hi.”