15. Rosie
“Oh shit, sorry.” I freeze in place. “I, uh … I didn’t know anyone was in here.” I word-vomit all over my shoes when I see the knockout blonde standing in Holden’s oversize bathroom. She’s wrapped in a towel, one of the ones I washed, folded, and put away last week.
Her long hair is wet, spilling over her delicate shoulders, sending buckets of molten lava all over my sense of self-worth and giving me stupid, trivial thoughts, like, Do I have naturally wavy hair that lies perfectly over my chest like that after a hot shower?
“Who are you?” she asks. Her tone is more curious than accusatory, but I feel my hackles rise just the same.
The words the housekeeper are on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, they taste like bile, so I shove them back.
“I’m Dolly’s best friend, Rosie.”
“Hmm,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “And who is Dolly?”
I blink at her. “Um, she’s Holden’s sister.”
“Ah, so this is like a family-lives-off-of-him situation.” She shakes her head, smirking.
Bitch, what?
“Um, more like a family-business situation.”
“But you’re not family,” she states.
“I don’t live here. I’m a friend.”
A friend who’s about two seconds away from pulling that pretty blond hair right out of your scalp.
Okay, chill. Why are you letting this girl get to your head like this?
She crosses her arms over the towel. “Then, why are you sneaking around Holden’s room like a criminal?”
My eyebrows shoot up as I physically take a step back from her. “I think I could very well ask you the same question. Did he actually invite you to stay the night?”
She quickly glances away before squaring her shoulders. “That seems like none of your business.”
“I take that as a no.”
You’re being a bitch for no reason. Why do you care who Holden fucks on his ranch?
She exhales deeply. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Where’s Holden?”
I shrug, trying to force my muscles to relax. “Probably out mending a fence or riding a horse, bull, or an ATV. He’s a rancher. They get up early and stay out working late.”
Thankfully, I’m not currently holding the bathroom caddy full of cleaners, or she’d know I’m in here to clean. I pick at my nail beds, debating the source of the strange sensation of jealousy that’s raging inside of me.
Another problem for another day.
“That surprises me with how much he drank last night. I’d be in bed all day after that much whiskey,” she muses.
I blink up at her, biting my lip. She seems like a decent person. I’m irrational for being so rattled about finding a girl in his room.
And she’s blond, of course. Probably the first of many.
My stomach rolls over at the thought.
“Look,” I start, softening my voice as I step closer to her, “Holden isn’t the type to get up and cook you breakfast. I get that he’s”—I struggle to find the right words—“enticing, and I’m sure last night was one for the books. I would strongly encourage you to leave before he gets back. You should log this away as a fun experience. He doesn’t really date. I’ve known him my whole life, and he’s never even had a girlfriend. I don’t mean to scare you, but he was released from prison like, barely over a month ago.”
She shakes her head. “I know exactly who he is. We had a connection last night. He didn’t even try to sleep with me. He told me he’s not looking for a hookup. He just wanted me to sleep next to him.” Her eyes grow distant. “Isn’t that … romantic?”
My lungs decompress slowly as I process her confession.
Holden didn’t fuck her?
I know it couldn’t be because he wasn’t attracted to her. She’s literally flawless, Playboy Bunny perfect.
“Oh, well … that’s something.” I shrug, the casual gesture betraying the relief flooding my system like oxygen. “I don’t really know him that well.” I hesitate, pursing my lips before finally deciding to spit out my next words. “Do you want some coffee?”
As a politician’s wife, my mother took pride in raising me to be an immaculate hostess. I’m not the woman of this house, but as the housekeeper, I tend to take on the role of serving guests. Dolly prefers it that way, it seems.
I lead the girl down the hallway after giving her time to dress in her clothes from the night before. From the looks of the skimpy outfit, she’s a bartender.
“I don’t think I caught your name?” I turn to say to her as we enter the kitchen. It’s eleven in the morning, so I was about to start cooking lunch.
“Savannah. And yours was Rosie, right?” she says.
You can be nice to her. You can. You will.
“Right. Dolly should be around here somewhere.”
I’m hoping she is, so I can get to work and stop having to make small talk with Holden’s latest conquest. The fact that they didn’t sleep together makes it a little easier for me to breathe, but I’m still too busy to be entertaining her.
Unless she lied about it …
“Do you know where Holden is?” she asks.
I shake my head, moving toward the pot of cold coffee that has a little left in it. I pour it into a mug and pop it into the microwave. After it heats, I remove it and set it on the island with the bottle of creamer. She grabs the cup without a thank-you.
I move over to the farmhouse sink, where the beef is thawing out. I planned to make steak sliders with green beans for lunch, and the meat needs tenderizing.
I disinfect the butcher block countertop and lay it out. The metal mallet for tenderizing weighs in my hand as I get ready to begin.
“What’s for lunch, sweet cheeks?” a male voice speaks from behind me.
I spin around with the mallet still in my hand.
“Whoa, what’s got that frown line in your forehead so deep?” Duke approaches me, raising a hand to lower the tool.
My eyes flick over to Savannah briefly before returning to his. He tilts his head to the side, peering at me curiously.
“Huh?”
I raise the mallet again, turning back to the meat. “I’m making steak sandwiches. It’ll be ready in forty-five.”
Duke turns around to face the stranger sitting at the island. “Have we met? You look strangely familiar. Ah! Don’t tell me—you’re the babe from my dream last night.”
She giggles. “I’m Savannah. I didn’t see you at Old Harry’s last night.”
I bring the mallet down with a whack. They continue talking, but I block it out and focus on the task. The bright red meat is from a Redford Ranch cow, rich and thick. It’ll taste like heaven once I’m done seasoning it and searing it in the cast-iron skillet.
The mallet comes down again and again, helping to release a bit of tension from my shoulders with each thud.
“Rosie.” A soft voice from beside me breaks through my focus. I pause, turning to face a wide-eyed Dolly.
“Are you good?” she asks, eyeing the mutilated meat on the counter.
“Yeah. Just prepping lunch.” I turn back, raising the mallet again.
“That cow is already dead, honey, very dead.”
I look down, realizing I forgot to put on an apron and now have red splatters on the front of my pale blue tank top. “Oh shit.”
She lowers her voice, stepping closer. “Did Holden say something to you again?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I’m really okay.” My voice is too high-pitched.
Deep male voices remind me that we’re not alone. I turn to see who all is in the kitchen, seeing that it’s all the guys, except for Holden. Cash and Sterling are talking among themselves while Duke continues to flirt with Savannah. She looks enraptured by him. I guess if she and Holden didn’t actually have sex, she’s fair game.
Speak of the devil …
The back door opens up, and he struts through it, wearing a straw Stetson, a pale gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, worn Wranglers, and boots. Saliva immediately pools inside my mouth.
This crush is getting out of hand. Need to figure out how to get rid of it.
MUSCLES.
Holden freezes when he sees Savannah sitting at the island. His eyes narrow as he flexes his jaw. My gaze focuses on the stitches I sewed into him, where he was kicked by a bull. I do the math in my head, realizing it’s been too long and I should’ve already taken them out.
His gaze cuts over to mine, sending heat over my skin instantly. He notices the blood on my shirt, the mallet, and the meat on the counter before turning to walk into the mudroom where the guys wash up before meal time.
I turn back to the meat.
“Holy shit. He really does hate you. I’m going to have a talk with him,” Dolly whisper-shouts right in my ear.
I generously season the meat on both sides, shaking my head at her. “Don’t bother. It’ll just make it worse. He’s been ignoring me lately, which is better than him firing me, accusing me of spying on him, and hauling me off like a sack of potatoes.”
“You call that death glare him ignoring you?”
I shrug, move over to the six-burner gas stove, and turn one on high. I slide the fifteen-inch cast-iron skillet over it to let it preheat.
“You want me to get the buns buttered and toasted?” Dolly asks.
“Yes, that would be perfect. I’m going to slice some tomatoes too.”
“No tomatoes on mine, sugarplum,” Duke says, winking at me.
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering how long we’re going to fake flirt with each other. It doesn’t seem to be changing much in my opinion. We might have to actually fuck on the kitchen table to get Holden to believe I’m too important to the family for him to get rid of me.
“Okay, love bug.” Sarcasm drips from my lips.
Duke chuckles, turning back to Savannah. She’s unbelievably pretty, even with her makeup-free face. She glances over at Holden as he walks back into the kitchen.
“You need a ride?” he asks her without smiling.
I continue slicing the thick tomatoes from the garden.
She blinks up at him. “Well, good morning to you too.”
“Duke can drive you home,” he says.
Duke raises his hands. “Why do I get stuck on taxi service?”
Holden glares at him. “Call her an Uber then.”
“Now?” Duke asks.
“No, next week.” Holden doesn’t wait for a reply or acknowledge Savannah again as he walks over to the dining room, sits down at the table, and waits for his lunch to be served.
I see Savannah’s face fall. I’m not sure if it’s the inner hostess in me, the irrationally jealous and raging bitch, or the overall fed-up employee, but I can’t stop myself.
“Oh, don’t be silly. She should eat first. There’s plenty to go around! What do you say, Savannah? Would you like tomatoes on your steak sandwich?”
Savannah looks up at me like I just saved her pet from being put down with a miracle surgery. I can feel Holden’s angry scowl from across the room, and it fuels my resolve to inconvenience his life as much as he does mine.
“I’ll take tomatoes. Thank you!” she says.
I nod, smiling to myself. “Coming right up.”