Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
SAM
During the middle of our second round of beers, I was acutely aware that Rose had completely relaxed.
Her shoulders were less tense. Her smile came more easily.
Her leg was still bumping against mine like it was no big deal at all.
And she laughed out loud at Eleanor’s story about an eighty-year-old library patron who’d complained that the romance section didn’t have enough “spicy” content.
“Rose—I have to say that I really like you when you’re loose,” I said, then immediately realized how that sounded.
She crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”
Chloe and Eleanor laughed.
“That came out wrong,” I said quickly. “I meant—you’re always on edge, like you’re perpetually braced for something to go wrong. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you since you arrived in Leavenworth.”
“I’m not on edge,” Rose said defensively.
“Not anymore,” I said. “Earlier, you were scanning the room like you were conducting a threat assessment.” I gestured at her with my hand. “Whereas right now, you’re slouching slightly, you’re making actual eye contact, and you just laughed so hard you snorted. It’s a marked improvement.”
“I didn’t snort,” Rose said.
“Yes, you did,” I said in unison with Chloe and Eleanor, then the three of us chortled together and clinked our glasses.
“Fine,” Rose said. “Maybe I’m a little more relaxed, but I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I’m not even tipsy.” She reached for her beer mug, knocked it with her knuckles, and sent the last of her beer cascading directly into my lap.
Chloe and Eleanor were cackling now.
Me, not so much.
I glanced down at my now-soaked pants. “Hello. I’m Sam Monroe, and it’s been zero days since my last Rose-related incident.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She launched herself toward the napkin dispenser, grabbing an enormous stack, then turning toward me.
Rose’s intentions were excellent.
Her execution was horrible.
In her enthusiasm to help, she came flying toward me out of control, and faster than you can say Sprechen Sie Deutsch, her overzealous fist smacked me below the belt.
I bent over slightly, the involuntary sound coming out of my mouth somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
“I just punched you in the—” Rose’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Yes, thank you for confirming that,” I said through clenched teeth, carefully removing the napkins from her hands. “And I’m going to take it from here before you cause any additional damage that has me singing soprano.”
Eleanor was absolutely losing it, her laughter so loud that people at nearby tables were staring. Chloe wasn’t much better—she was actually crying, wiping her eyes while trying to maintain some semblance of composure.
“I promise you I’m not drunk,” Rose said sheepishly.
“I believe you,” I said, dabbing at my pants with what was rapidly becoming an ineffective collection of napkins. “You just have a unique talent for creating chaos wherever you go.”
“You two are such a kick.” Eleanor stood, still chuckling as she gathered her coat. “Thank you for the lovely evening. This has been absolutely delightful, but I’m heading home to relax in front of the TV.”
“And I’m heading back to the hotel,” Chloe said, also standing and pulling on her coat.
“Well, I can’t leave just yet,” I said, glancing down at my lap. “If I go outside in these wet pants, everything down there will freeze.”
Chloe glanced at Rose with obvious amusement. “You should stay and keep him company, since you caused this mess. Have fun. Enjoy the rest of the evening, and I’ll see you back at the room.”
After Eleanor and Chloe left, I glanced at Rose, still looking guilty about the assault on my dignity.
“Hey—don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s not that bad. Seriously.”
“I’ve got issues,” she said with a sigh.
“You and everyone else in the world. You just like to show yours off.”
“I’ll buy the next round,” she offered desperately. “As an apology.”
“Let’s make it coffee, so if you spill it on me, it’ll keep me warm,” I said with a chuckle.
“Not funny,” Rose said.
“You’re lovely when you’re cranky, you know that?” I said with a grin before I could stop myself.
What am I doing?
Rose tilted her head slightly, studying me with those sharp, analytical eyes. “Are you flirting with me?”
There was no point in pretending—she was clearly too intelligent to buy whatever deflection I might attempt.
“Actually, I was wondering the same thing,” I admitted.
“And have you reached a conclusion?” she asked, her tone carrying the clinical curiosity someone might use when discussing an interesting scientific hypothesis.
“Well,” I said, thinking about it for a moment, “if we’re applying standard behavioral analysis to the situation, I’d say I exhibited several classic indicators of flirtation—humor with personal compliment undertones, maintaining eye contact, a wide grin, and the timing of my delivery, of course, which was at an optimal moment. ”
Rose’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Interesting assessment, though perhaps your comment was simply an attempt at humor designed to ease my obvious embarrassment of spilling beer on you.”
“An excellent point,” I conceded, finding myself genuinely engaged by her methodical approach to what most people would handle with awkward laughter.
“But the grin was probably the determining factor that skews it more in the flirting direction. Purely practical consolation wouldn’t require facial expressions that could be classified as inviting. ”
“So, you’re concluding it was indeed flirting then?”
“The evidence seems to support that hypothesis,” I said, unable to suppress a smile at how we’d just turned this casual conversation into what sounded like a peer-reviewed study. “Why? You’re not so sure now?”
“The only thing I’m sure of at the moment is that I would like to find a giant rock to crawl under,” Rose said.
“Well, you’re in luck—Leavenworth has an excellent selection to choose from. We’ve got everything from basic hiding rocks to deluxe shame-concealment boulders near Icicle Creek. I could probably give you a geological tour of the best—”
Rose crossed her arms and gave me a look that could have frozen the Wenatchee River in an instant.
I held up my hands in surrender. “Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”
“Excellent plan,” she said, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Also, for the record, you were definitely flirting.”
I smirked. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.” I chuckled, then asked, “Speaking of which, what’s your IQ?”
Rose’s eyebrows arched. “That’s a very direct and personal question, don’t you think?”
“Call it professional curiosity,” I said. “I’m trying to understand how someone processes information so quickly. What you did at the library was absolutely brilliant.”
“It was nothing,” she said with a shrug.
“Nothing for someone whose IQ is …” I leaned closer, eagerly waiting for an answer.
Rose sighed. “One hundred sixty.”
My mouth dropped open for a moment. “Me too. Wow. What are the chances of us randomly meeting and sharing the same elevated IQ?”
“One in nine-hundred-sixty million,” she answered without hesitation, then added, “approximately.”
I studied her with renewed interest. “We’re both nerds then.”
“Speak for yourself. I prefer statistically anomalous.”
“That’s just a fancier way of saying nerd.”
Rose laughed—a genuine, unguarded sound that transformed her entire face again. “Fair point. My mom always joked that I came out of the womb asking questions.”
“What was the first thing you asked?”
“Why is this breast milk so warm?” Rose said.
“It’s a valid question!” I said, laughing. “Have you ever tried explaining to someone that you’re not trying to be annoying with your facts, your brain just works differently?”
“Multiple times,” she said. “It never goes well, because the explanation itself sounds condescending, plus they always hate the PowerPoint presentation of my evidence.”
“Accuracy is apparently considered rude in social situations. We literally can’t win.”
We shared a laugh, and I felt something shift—a recognition that went beyond mutual respect for technical skills.
I liked Rose.
A lot.
It was terrible timing, considering I was in the middle of my busiest season helping struggling families, and I had a dozen operations running that required my complete focus. Not to mention the fact that I was almost sure Rose was hiding something.
At that very moment, I didn’t care.
Not even a little.
“This feels like a date,” I blurted out.
“Where did that come from?” she asked, holding her palms up. “This is nothing like a date.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Rose paused, searching for words. “We’re just two colleagues sharing a meal and drinks. Just because you invited me to join you does not make it a date. That would mean you had a date with Eleanor as well. I’m sure you two have eaten together more than a few times.”
I waved it off. “Yes, but this is much different. You and I have stimulating conversations. We’re enjoying each other’s company. You’ve already assaulted me, which, according to the woman Eleanor talked to at the library today, can be considered a form of intimacy.”
Rose actually smiled at that. “You’re terrible.”
“Maybe I am, but I’m also attracted to you,” I said boldly. “I’m not one of those men who avoid expressing their feelings. I love transparency.”
“Sam …”
“Do you have a problem with the age difference?”
She opened and closed her mouth.
“Do you think I’ll tire of you at some point and then move on to someone else? Is that it?” I asked.
Rose hesitated, then admitted, “Yes.”
“Interesting,” I said, then wrinkled my nose. “Actually, maybe you’re right, now that I think about it.”
She just stared at me.
“I usually like women much older than you,” I added with a smirk.
“In case you’re wondering, I’ve tuned you out completely,” Rose said, but her bottom lip was trembling just enough to let me know she was slightly amused.