Chapter 19
Alex
Jake and his friends arrive, bringing with them a wave of laughter and energy. Jake's sister, Mia, is with them, along with a couple of her friends. The atmosphere immediately becomes more lively.
Chris takes his guitar and starts strumming a few chords. His husky voice rises in the evening air, singing an old country song we all know.
It's at that moment that I see them arrive.
The girls make their entrance on the beach, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. They're all beautiful, dressed to impress. But my gaze immediately finds Rosie, and the rest of the world fades away. I vaguely hear Diego choking on something... but it seems so distant.
Rosie is wearing a pair of denim shorts that look incredible on her, showing off her muscular legs. A top that accentuates her chest in a way that makes heads turn, and over it, a plaid shirt tied just below her chest, in perfect country style. And then... my eyes stop at her feet. She's wearing a pair of shiny, perfect cowboy boots.
My heart skips a beat. Or maybe ten.
Rosie’s hair tumbles over her shoulders in loose waves, framing her face. Her lips curve in a small, teasing smile as our eyes lock. There’s mischief there, a daring challenge that ignites something primal in me.
She's not the city princess I first met. Tonight, she’s a queen, and damn if she doesn’t know it.
I can’t help the way my chest tightens. My pulse thunders as she crosses the sand toward us, her hips swaying like a melody I can’t ignore. She knows I’m watching. Hell, the entire beach probably knows I’m watching.
I swallow hard, trying to maintain my usual composure as Rosie and the other girls approach the bonfire. The chatter around me seems muffled, as if I were underwater. All I can clearly perceive is her.
"Hey, cowboy," Rosie greets me with a smile that could light up the entire ranch. There’s a confidence in her voice I’ve never heard before. Her stance is relaxed, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The knot of her shirt hugs her chest, and I’m practically drooling.
"Hey, princess," I reply, surprised I can string together a coherent sentence. "Or should I say cowgirl?"
She throws me one of her smoldering looks, and all I want to do is whisk her away and make her mine.
Whose idea was it to spend an evening together like this? How did I think it was a good one?
"How about just calling me Rosie?"
Before I can answer, Fran steps in, handing Rosie a bottle of beer. "Welcome, ladies! You’re all stunning tonight."
Rosie accepts the beer with a smile, her eyes never leaving mine as she takes a sip. The way her full, red lips wrap around the neck of the bottle makes my throat go dry.
My thoughts turn filthy, unbidden, and I curse under my breath.
Right now, I’d give anything to feel those lips wrapped around me, to taste her, to lose myself in her entirely.
"So, Alex," she says, stepping a little closer. Her intoxicating scent fills the air, that fragrance that has become my obsession. "Ready to show a city girl how to have fun on a ranch?"
Her tone is playful, but there’s an edge of challenge in her words that reignites something inside me. Our usual game of teasing, but with a new intensity.
I’m glad to see Rosie isn’t holding a grudge for how stupid I acted before. This is our unspoken truce, our way of apologizing and making peace.
"Always ready, princess," I reply, finding a bit of my swagger. "But are you sure you can keep up?"
She raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, I think you might be the one who needs to keep up, cowboy."
The electricity between us is palpable, so much so that I wonder if others can feel it. But before I can say anything else, Chris starts playing a more upbeat song and the girls drag Rosie towards the improvised dance area.
I watch her as she moves to the rhythm of the music, her hips swaying hypnotically. I can't take my eyes off her, and I realize I'm not the only one. I see Jake and his friends watching her admiringly, and I feel a pang of... jealousy?
"Dude," Fran's voice brings me back to reality. "If you don't do something soon, someone else will.”
Chris stopped playing some time ago, and the music has been replaced by a pair of Bluetooth speakers. I still haven’t made my move. I feel frozen, my gaze anchored to Rosie, who’s utterly magnetic. I find myself staring at her, unable to look away. The way she moves, confident and seductive, makes my throat dry. I watch as the guys drift toward the dance floor, but I remain stuck in place, weighed down by a foreign, unwelcome feeling that’s been gnawing at me ever since I noticed the way their eyes lingered on the girls. On Rosie.
I can’t stop watching her. Then I see Jake edging closer, too close to Rosie’s direction, and the jealousy burns hotter inside me. I can’t bear to see her laughing at his jokes, moving with grace to the rhythm of the music. They start talking, and their conversation flows easily, her laughter bright and unrestrained. It cuts deeper when I think about how I can barely string together a normal conversation with her.
Every now and then, Rosie casts a glance in my direction, and I wish I could look away. But I can’t.
Fran strolls over, handing me a beer. “Man, you look like you’re about to explode,”
he says with a smirk.
I take the bottle and drink deeply. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter.
Fran raises an eyebrow. “You’d make a terrible poker player. Why don’t you just go over there and get your girl?”
“She’s not my girl,”
I reply automatically, but the words sound hollow, even to me.
Just then, the music shifts. A slow, sultry country ballad fills the air. I see Jake moving closer to Rosie, his hands sliding to her hips.
That’s it.
Taking a deep breath, I finish my beer and stride toward the dance floor. Rosie spots me as I approach, her eyes locking onto mine. Her gaze could set the entire ranch ablaze. She arches an eyebrow, then turns her back to me, returning her attention to Jake.
“Mind if I cut in?”
I ask, my voice coming out sharper and more forceful than I intended. Great. Apparently, I’ve decided to embrace my inner caveman. Did I mention how infuriating Rosalie Thorne can be?
Jake nods, clapping me on the shoulder before stepping back. “Sure thing,”
he says, leaving Rosie and me a little space.
Rosie takes a step closer, invading my personal space. Her scent, sweet, delicate, elegant, makes my head spin. Her expression is stormy, her eyes blazing.
“Can’t mind your own business, can you, cowboy?”
she snaps.
Without waiting for a reply, she pivots and heads toward the center of the dance floor, throwing me a challenging glance over her shoulder. I follow her like a man possessed, drawn in by her magnetic energy.
Then, on impulse, I reach out, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her back toward me. My grip is firm but careful—not enough to hurt her, but enough to stop her in her tracks.
“Starting to like cowboys, are we, princess?”
I emphasize the word princess, knowing full well how much she hates it. And yet, for the briefest moment earlier, when I saw her laughing with Jake, I felt a flicker of something raw. Now, though? Now, I can’t help but savor the thrill of making her mad.
I pull her closer, her face now inches from mine. Her eyes meet mine in a fiery stare-down.
Our bodies are closer than they need to be. I can feel the heat of her skin, smell the delicate fragrance of her hair. It’s intoxicating. One hand rests on her shoulder, the other slides to her waist, holding her steady. I catch a flicker of something in her—a slight startle, a blink, a swallow—before she finds her voice again.
“Jealous, cowboy?”
she taunts, putting the same biting emphasis on cowboy.
I start to fire back a sharp retort, but instead, my grip on her waist tightens slightly, betraying me. Her brow arches, her defiant expression sending a thrill through me that’s impossible to ignore.
“How about a dance?”
I murmur, my voice so low I can barely hear it myself. My lips are close to her ear, brushing lightly against the delicate curve of cartilage. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, I squeeze her waist again, my hand moving in an unconscious caress, mesmerized by her.
The music shifts again, the melody turning slower, more sensual. Rosie begins to move, her acceptance of my invitation silent but unmistakable. Every movement is deliberate, graceful, and maddeningly alluring. Her hips sway to the rhythm, her eyes never leaving mine.
Our hands brush against each other, and a jolt of electricity shoots down my spine.
We dance, our bodies close but never too much, caught in a delicate game of attraction and resistance. I fight against the impulse, the urgent need, to cling to her, to press myself against her, leaving not the slightest gap between us.
"Not bad, princess," I comment, striving to keep my tone detached. But my voice betrays me—it’s pure adoration.
Rosie smiles, a flash of challenge sparking in her eyes. "Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, cowboy."
She turns, her back just inches from my chest. I can feel the warmth radiating from her body, see the curve of her neck. I want to sink my lips, my teeth, into it. My eyes trace the perfect curve of her hips, and I can’t help but imagine touching her, squeezing, spanking her.
The urge to touch her, to punish her for every infuriating second of tonight, is almost unbearable.
“You’re a very insolent princess,”
I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear again, my hands steady on her hips.
She turns back to face me, her freckles up close and her eyes searing into mine. “Maybe,”
she whispers, “but who says I like being good?”
The tension between us is thick, the air electric.
“Oh, you’re far from good,”
I breathe. “You deserve a punishment.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. I barely know what I’m saying anymore. My focus is entirely on keeping my hands where they are—and failing miserably.
She leans in slightly, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I doubt anyone could give me one, cowboy.”
Her challenge lights a fire in me, but I can’t speak, completely captivated by her. I tighten my grip on her hips, lost in the moment.
We keep dancing, each movement a duel, each glance an unspoken promise.
Around us, the party continues, but it feels like we’re alone in a world of stolen glances, fleeting touches, and unsaid words.
As the song ends, Rosie pulls away slightly, her lips curving into a sly smile.
“Thanks for the dance, cowboy,”
she says, her voice a perfect blend of sweetness and provocation.
Before I can reply, she turns and walks toward her friends, leaving me behind with my heart racing and a thousand questions spinning in my head.
And that’s when I realize: the city princess just got her revenge.