Chapter 32 Rosalie
ROSALIE
The door to Brickline Coffee Works swings shut behind me, the scent of freshly brewed espresso swirling in the air.
The whoosh of passing cars from early commuters blends with the rhythmic clickity-clack of my heels against the pavement.
I cradle my coffee cup in both hands, inhaling the rich notes of chocolate and cinnamon before taking my first perfect sip.
“God, that’s good stuff,” I murmur to myself.
It’s my little slice of heaven before work each day.
Weirdly, coffee doesn’t perk me up like it does most people—I could drink a twenty-ounce latte and still crash right after.
It is freaking delicious, though, so I indulge on the regular.
Plus, caffeine quiets the mental chaos just enough to help me focus, which is essential in my line of work.
Granted, it’s dehydrating, so I’ll usually chase it with some water.
But plain water gets boring, so my fridge is always stocked with at least four types of flavored sparkling ones.
A girl’s gotta have options. Hence, the three to five beverages that usually end up crowding my desk.
It’s a whole system, really. Hydrate, caffeinate, repeat. Hydrate, caffeinate, re—
My cell buzzes inside my purse, and I dig through my patent leather crossbody to find a message from my client, Jett.
I giggle to myself when I read his contact name.
My phone has an excellent firewall, but all of my clients have fake names in my contact list, just in case.
It’s sort of an unspoken system we have in Hollywood that comes in handy when you’re trying to protect your privacy.
Sometimes—okay, most of the time—we have fun with it and use the most ridiculous names we can come up with.
For some reason, the names I make up always seem to sound like seventies porn stars.
Weird, right?
Randy Hardwood: Would these work?
Randy Hardwood: 5 attached photos
“Holy abs, Batman,” I mutter as I flip through the pictures he sent.
I asked Jett to get a few poolside shots with his newly adopted pit bull, and yeah…
he definitely delivered. The camera’s focus is on his adorable doggo’s face, but since said dog is lying on Jett’s lap, and Jett happens to be shirtless, his six-pack just happens to be in the shot as well. His fans are going to eat these up.
I fumble with my coffee cup, trying to walk and type at the same time.
Me: They’re perfect! I’ll get these posted later today.
My heel snags on a crack and—bam—I’m suddenly airborne. Coffee flies. Arms flail. And then I hit the ground.
“Son of a bitch!” I cry out as my left wrist takes the brunt of it.
I land hard on my ass, breath knocked out of me, clutching my wrist as pain pulses up my arm.
Thank god I wore pants today. At least the people who just witnessed me falling on my ass won’t get a peek at my undies.
But when I spot my coffee staining the concrete instead of delighting my taste buds like it should be, I let out a pitiful whimper.
“Rosie!” a familiar voice bellows.
My six-foot-three knight in black leather cuts through the crowd, jaw locked tight.
Damn, why is that so hot?
Logan drops to his knees beside me, eyes scanning my face. “Rosie, baby, are you hurt? What happened?”
“I tripped.” I flex my fingers and immediately regret it, wincing as a sharp pain shoots up the side of my forearm. “My wrist slammed into the ground when I tried to catch myself. I think it just needs some ice. Maybe an ACE bandage. And there will probably be whining involved at some point.”
The next thing I know, I’m being scooped off the ground, cradled against Logan’s chest in a full-on bridal carry. He turns toward my building’s entrance like a man on a mission.
“Logan,” I hiss, cheeks burning as I realize how much attention we’re drawing. “Put me down. My legs are fine.”
“Not a fucking chance,” he growls, eyes locked ahead.
I twist slightly in his arms, trying not to jostle my wrist. “This is a little overkill, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t,” he snaps, then softens just enough to add, “Please, Pip. Just let me help.”
He muscles through the doors of my building, and when they close behind us, he lets me down, gently, like I could shatter into pieces at any moment. As soon as my feet hit the marble, I wobble a bit, my injured wrist tucked against me.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” His hazel eyes are laced with worry as they rake over me.
I shake my head. “No. Just…give me a second.”
With one hand at the small of my back, Logan guides me toward the seating area. His other hand clenches, knuckles white. He crouches down in front of me, gently reaching for my wrist. His hands are warm and steady, making me realize how much mine are shaking.
“Rosie, we should get this X-rayed. It’s swelling already.”
I wince as his fingertips prod an especially tender spot. “Nothing some ice and an ACE bandage can’t fix.”
He lifts a brow. “Did I miss all the years you went to med school?”
I roll my eyes. “Logan, you know damn well this isn’t the first time I’ve tripped over my own two feet.
” I rotate my wrist, testing it. It’s sore and stiff, but I definitely have full range of motion.
“I’ve learned by now what does and does not warrant a visit to the doctor.
The last thing I want to do is spend the next eight hours in an ER waiting room just to be told I have a mild sprain.
I’d much rather go upstairs, ice it for a bit, pop some ibuprofen, and wrap it.
If it’s still bothering me tomorrow—or gets worse—I can make an appointment with my regular doctor. ”
His jaw tics as he studies my face, clearly having some sort of internal debate. Finally, he releases a harsh exhale. “Fine. But I’m going to be watching you carefully. If you seem to be in any more pain, we’re going in.”
I nod. “Deal.”
Without another word, he rises and extends his hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. We reach the elevator, and he presses the call button, pulling me into his chest as we wait. I sigh, breathing in his woodsy cologne, grateful for the quiet reprieve.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze. “I thought you had a full day.”
Logan didn’t stay over last night because he had to be in the office extra early for an important meeting. We both knew he wouldn’t get the sleep he needed if we were together.
“I do,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “But I had to swing by my place for a thumb drive I left in my laptop bag, so I figured I’d surprise you with your favorite coffee on the way back.”
He ushers me into the elevator and hits the button for my floor.
“Didn’t make it in time for the surprise,” he adds with a small smile, “but I’m glad I got here when I did.”
“Me too,” I admit. “I mean, I could’ve handled myself if you weren’t there, but it’s a nice surprise.”
The elevator glides to a stop on my floor with a soft ding. Logan keeps his arm around me as the doors part, not saying a word as we step into the hallway. I use my good hand to punch in the code to unlock my door, and Logan turns the knob to push it open.
Once we’re inside, I kick off my shoes and head straight for the couch, collapsing with a sigh. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I’m left feeling sore, rattled, and extra cranky because I still really want that coffee.
Logan hangs his jacket on the hook behind my front door, and steps into the kitchen.
A few seconds later, I hear the freezer drawer open, followed by some shuffling and the drawer being closed.
He joins me on the couch with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, guiding my hand to the arm of the couch and carefully positioning it over my wrist.
“Try to keep it elevated.”
He sets my phone on the coffee table. Huh. I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it, but now that I think about it, it definitely wasn’t in my hand.
“Yes, Dr. Edwards,” I sass.
His mouth kicks up in the corner. “Save the role play for later, Pip. I’ll be more than happy to play doctor with you when you’re not actually injured.”
“I’m holding you to that.” I chuckle. “Don’t you need to get back to work?”
His eyes flick to mine. “It can wait.”
“Logan, don’t be dumb. Your presentation is tomorrow. We both know you should not be here right now. I appreciate your help down there, but I promise you, I’ll be fine. I’ll even work from home today if that makes you feel better.”
“It would actually make me feel a lot better. And you have to promise to call me if your wrist gets worse, or you need anything. DoorDash whatever you want or need using my account.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts typing something on the screen. “I’m sending you my login info now.”
My phone vibrates with a text alert.
I smile, channeling my inner cartoon villain as I say, “Oh, you’re going to regret giving me that kind of power. I’m already planning my meals for the next month.”
He laughs and kisses me softly before standing. “Go to town, baby. Now where’s your First Aid kit?”
“Under the bathroom sink.”
While he’s off doing that, I grab my phone to text my boss. Easier said than done one-handed, so I use voice-to-text and pray Autocorrect isn’t in a mood.
I mean, seriously. Who the hell ever wants to actually type the word duck?
Me: I had a little mishap this morning, so I’ll need to work from home today. I’ll be fine, but I’ll call you in a bit to explain.
She responds instantly. I swear the woman has her phone surgically attached to her hand.
Avery: I can’t wait to hear this one.
A minute or so later, Logan returns with an ACE bandage, a bottle of water, and some Advil. After wrapping my wrist like a pro and ensuring I take the pills like a good little patient, he gives me one last kiss before slipping his jacket back on.
“I love you,” I tell him.
He freezes in the doorway and grins. “Damn, I’ll never get sick of hearing that.”
“Are you still planning on coming over after you’re done?
” I bite my lip, not missing the way his gaze zooms in on the action.
“I need to experience some of your bedside manner, Dr. Edwards. Especially if you’ll be out of town for the whole next day and night.
Besides, we can’t have you getting on that plane all stressed out, can we?
I hear orgasms are great for anxiety relief.
We should at least try it, in the name of science. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, definitely. I’m a big fan of supporting scientific research.
” His eyes darken as his knuckles whiten around the doorknob.
“Fuck. I need to get out of here before I talk myself out of leaving.” He points to me.
“Quit being so damn irresistible, woman.” He quickly steps over the threshold and closes the door as he adds, “Love you, Pip.”
“Looking forward to seeing you tonight! Sorry not sorry if I get started without you!” I shout through the door.
Pretty sure I hear him groan on the other side. Excellent.
I shift on the couch, squirming. Welp. That backfired spectacularly.
Now I’m way too worked up to focus. Guess I’ll have to take the edge off before I can even pretend to be productive. Good thing I only need one hand for a little ménage à moi. Logan’s too busy to be distracted today, but that doesn’t mean I can’t record a sexy little video for him to watch later.
I mean…it’s only fair. He keeps me fed, I supply him with spank bank material. We’ll call it mutual satisfaction. Or…perhaps foreplay with a side of DoorDash?
Who knew relationships could be so freaking awesome?