Chapter 6
‘I understand that, but if I could just get a meeting, then I’d be able to present my business plan—’ The robotic voice on the other end of the line cut me off for the fourth time and spouted the same regurgitated bullshit.
I leaned back in my office chair, letting my head fall against the back, and stared up at the ceiling.
The numbers on my laptop blurred together.
No matter how many times I rejigged it or shuffled it around, each graph didn’t lose the deep red tinge.
I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose, my eyes pinching shut as the feminine voice repeated the same thing.
Losing the thread of my patience, I snapped.
‘I’m aware I missed last month’s payment.
I’m sitting in front of my fucking accounts.
Trust me, I’m painfully aware of my current situation.
’ The banker teller paused on the other end of the line; for a split second, I thought a shred of humanity might crack her icy exterior.
My hopes were dashed when she started up again two seconds later in that same monotone voice, telling me everything I already knew.
My grip on the phone tightened. ‘Okay, fine, thank you for your time.’ I hung up, pressing the tip of the phone to my head, fighting the urge to throw it across the room.
What the fuck was I going to do?
That all-too-familiar feeling of dread dropped into my gut.
I sat up, casting my gaze around the walls of my office.
A spiral staircase cut it off from the rest of the building.
Wrap-around windows on the far side offered a birds-eye view of the main floor.
The neat rows of flowers and plants created a criss-cross pattern around the room.
Everything I could see, from the double doors at the front to the stockyard out back, was mine.
I’d built it and renovated it with my own hands.
Working my arse off for years to earn enough money to put the deposit down on this space, and every morning, without fail, I showed up and gave it everything I had.
But it wasn’t enough.
All because I knew this was the place she would have loved to own.
This was the store my mother used to absentmindedly dream about as she pulled weeds out of her vegetable patch or pruned her rose bush.
At twelve-years-old, I’d sit beside her, watching everything she did and hanging on to every word she spoke.
This was the place she’d talk about, when her body started to fail her and the cancer spread.
She would sit outside in her wheelchair, soaking up what little sunshine she could, and tell me that in another life, she would give anything to own a store just like this. That’s why I named it after her.
Cora’s.
And I was watching it slip from my grasp.
‘Uh, boss?’ A soft knock sounded on my open door. Pulling myself out from underneath the cloud hovering over my head, I saw my youngest—and only other employee—hovering awkwardly in the doorway.
‘What’s up, Tim?’
His blond hair flopped over his face, and he wore glasses that always slipped down the bridge of his nose. Fingers fidgeting in front of him, he cleared his throat. ‘There’s a woman here to see you.’
Frowning, I asked, ‘Who is it?’
His pale cheeks flushed bright red. ‘She’s uh, really pretty.’
‘That doesn’t tell me who she is.’ Even though I had a strong suspicion, I knew exactly who had caused him to be struck dumb.
His feet shuffled, and he gave an awkward laugh. ‘She’s um—’
Tim was saved from explaining when a halo of blonde curls and crystal blue eyes popped her head around the corner. ‘Hi, it’s me.’ She smiled sweetly at Tim, whose entire face and neck had turned scarlet.
He flattened himself against the door, exhaling a nervous laugh. ‘Right, sorry. Didn’t mean, uh…’
Rosie stepped fully into my office. I could understand why Tim was having trouble forming a coherent sentence.
Even on an average day, Rosie was one of the most beautiful women in the room.
Her model looks were only enhanced by her confidence, which was evident in every aspect of her life.
She was brilliant at her job, with a mind as sharp as a whip.
But she also knew people. Her skill at walking into a room and instantly brightening it with her presence was intimidating.
I’d witnessed men get caught in the web of pure fucking sunshine she spun.
And I was kidding myself if I thought I wasn’t one of them.
She waved Tim’s apology away. ‘Quite alright, being reduced to my physical appearance is always the highlight of my day.’ Her tone was so casual that it took a minute for her words to register in Tim’s head. When they did, his eyes bugged out.
‘That’s not what I meant; it’s just that you’re a striking, pretty, um, beautiful woman. I didn’t mean nothing by it.’
Rosie stared at him, her expression unchanged. Deciding to save the poor guy, I said, ‘Tim?’
Desperate eyes flashed to mine. ‘Yes, boss?’
‘Why don’t you go downstairs and see if Steve needs a hand with anything.’
The relief on his face forced me to suppress a chuckle. He nodded several times. ‘Right, yeah, will do.’ When he turned to Rosie, the flush on his face deepened even further. ‘Nice to, uh. Bye.’ He shut the door behind him.
Turning to me, Rosie let out a satisfied sigh. ‘That was fun.’
I got up from where I was sitting and rounded my desk, leaning my butt against it and folding my arms over my chest. ‘You nearly made him shit himself, sweetheart.’
A wicked smile took over her face. ‘Like I said, fun.’
Compared to last night, Rosie looked like an entirely different person.
Tiredness created soft purple bruises under her eyes, but apart from that, you’d never know that less than twenty-four hours previous, she was drunk off her arse, stumbling out of a club.
She wore a chocolate brown jumper tucked into faded blue jeans that hugged her hips, fitting her like a second skin.
A pair of Doc Martins finished off her outfit.
Fucking perfect. I shut down that train of thought quickly.
After an entire year, I’d become pretty good at killing those feelings when they arose.
I eyed the paper bag and tray filled with two takeout cups in her hand.
‘What’s this?’
‘A vegan’s nightmare.’ She thrust the bag at me. ‘There is so much butter in those croissants you feel it swimming in your veins after one bite.’ After taking the bag from her, she placed the coffee on my desk, lifting one out of the tray and taking a sip.
‘You bought me coffee and pastries?’ I arched a brow at her.
‘Yep.’ She frowned. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not weird.’
For anyone else in my life, this wouldn’t be weird.
My brother had been known to drop by with breakfast, and even Fallon, on the odd occasion, swung by to drop a coffee or muffin off when she was in the area.
If either of them came in, I wouldn’t even blink twice, but having Rosie stand in my office, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world? Yeah, that was strange.
I picked up the coffee she’d left and took a tentative sip. ‘Considering that before last night, I hadn’t seen you in over two months. Yeah, sweetheart, it’s weird.’
The first night I met Rosie, we kissed, and it was the moment I knew there was something about this girl—something different and something that could rock me to my core.
It was also the first night that word had slipped out, and seeing her cheeks pink whenever I said it only emboldened me to never stop.
Her eyes glanced away, not denying the insinuation that she had been ignoring me.
She cleared her throat. Uncomfortable with my scrutiny. ‘Well, that’s why I bought the pastries. They’re, you know…’ Her hand waved in the air before falling by her side. ‘Oh God, are you going to make me say it?’
My lips twitched. ‘Say what?’
She blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Oh fucks sake, look, I’m sorry about last night. I wasn’t at my best.’
I arched a brow.
‘Okay, I was a hot-fucking-mess. But thank you for, you know, taking care of me, and yeah…’ Her words trailed off and I don’t think she could have looked more uncomfortable if she tried.
‘So this is a thank you pastry?’ My fingers drifted into the bag, pulling out a fluffy, golden brown croissant. The mouth-watering scent filled my small office, reminding me I had yet to eat this morning.
‘And an apology coffee. I’m multitasking.’ A smile curled at her lips.
‘I accept both.’ Grinning, I took a bite and stifled a groan as the pastry melted on my tongue.
Trying not to let my eyes roll back into my head, Rosie chuckled as she flopped onto the threadbare sofa tucked into the corner of the room.
She took a long sip of her coffee, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.
I shifted my gaze away, silently begging any god who would listen that the pants I wore wouldn’t betray how much this woman affected me.
Finishing the decadent pastry, I threw the paper bag in the bin, picked up the coffee she had brought, and sat on the far end of the sofa. A safe distance away from her.
The image of her last night, disorientated and helpless, had me gripping the flimsy coffee cup so tight I almost crushed it.
‘How are you feeling?’ She looked better, but with Rosie, it was hard to tell what was real and what was part of the shield she used to keep people from prying into her life.
She glanced over at me, wincing. ‘Like a chainsaw is doing its best to sever my head from my body. Luckily, I don’t have work, although I have mastered the art of working with a hangover. It’s just not the preference.’
‘You talk to Fallon yet?’ I thought about what Oliver said about her getting ready to drop everything to get back to her best friend. ‘She was really worried about you.’
Rosie slumped down on the sofa. ‘Yeah, we talked this morning.’
‘Based on your expression, I’m guessing it didn’t go very well.’