Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Callum
I couldn't stop watching her.
Rosie moved around her booth with an energy that drew people in. The way she laughed with customers. How her hands gestured when she explained her products. That smile she wore that made my chest feel too small for everything happening inside it.
The hug from earlier still hummed under my skin. We'd stood there holding each other like the rest of the world didn't exist, and now I couldn't unknow what she felt like in my arms. Couldn't unsee the way her eyes had gone soft and certain when she'd whispered yes without knowing the question.
Tucker whined beside me.
I glanced down. He'd been sitting patiently for the past hour, watching people pass with his usual calm interest. But now his ears were pulled back, and he kept shifting his weight from paw to paw. When a kid ran past squealing, Tucker pressed against my leg instead of wagging his tail.
Too much stimulation. Too many people. He'd hit his limit.
“Hey, bud.” I crouched beside him, running my hand along his silky coat. “Getting tired?”
Tucker leaned into my touch, his tail giving one half-hearted wag.
“Let's go home.” I straightened, scanning the market. Rosie was handing over a bundle of kale to an elderly woman. The woman said something that made Rosie laugh, and the sound hit me square in the chest.
Rosie looked up as I approached, and her whole face brightened.
“Tucker's done.” I nodded toward the dog pressed against my leg. “Too many people. I'm going to take him back to the barn.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered. “Right. Of course.”
“I'll come back.” The words came out too fast. “To help you pack.”
“You don't have to do that.”
“I know.”
She studied me for a moment, then her mouth curved into a smile that looked suspiciously like relief. “Well, if you're offering...”
“I am.”
“Then I accept.” She bent to scratch Tucker's ears. “Poor guy. You've been so good today, haven't you?”
Tucker's tail wagged once, polite but exhausted.
“How long will you be?” Rosie straightened, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The movement drew my attention to the freckles scattered across her cheekbones.
I forced myself to focus. “Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.”
“Perfect. That gives me time to sell off the rest of this kale.” She gestured at her booth, where bundles of greens were starting to wilt in the afternoon heat. “Or bribe people into taking it.”
“You're not going to bribe anyone.”
“You don't know that.” Her eyes sparkled. “I can be very persuasive.”
I'm aware.
“Just wait for me.” I cleared my throat. “I can help with anything heavy.”
“Callum Sterling, are you implying I can't lift things?”
“I'm just saying I can help.”
She crossed her arms, but she was fighting a smile. “What if I want to load all the heavy things myself?”
“Then you can wait thirty minutes and show me when I get back.”
“Fine.” She waved me off. “Go take care of Tucker. I'll be here. Not lifting anything heavy. Probably.”
I shook my head, but I couldn't help the smile that was pulling at my lips. “Thirty minutes.”
“I'll be counting.” She said it lightly, but something in her expression made my pulse kick up.
I turned before I could do something stupid like ask what she meant by that.
Tucker and I left the market square, heading down Main Street toward the clinic. The afternoon sun warmed my shoulders, and for once, the weight I usually carried didn't feel quite so heavy.
I replayed the hug in my head for the dozenth time. The way she'd stepped into my arms without hesitation. How she'd held on just a beat longer than necessary. The soft yes she'd whispered.
My chest felt too full.
I'd spent four years in Alder Creek keeping everyone at a professional distance. Easier that way. Safer. But Rosie had bulldozed past every wall I'd built, and instead of feeling trapped, I felt…
Lighter.
Tucker bumped my leg, pulling me back to the present.
“I know.” I scratched behind his ears. “I'm being ridiculous.”
The way she'd looked at me when we pulled apart. How her hand had lingered in mine. The softness in her eyes that made my ribs feel too tight. I'd memorized every detail.
What if I was reading it wrong, though? What if she just—
No. I needed to believe it meant what I hoped it did.
The clinic came into view, and I noticed Sharon's sedan in the parking lot. My steps slowed. She wasn't supposed to be here today.
I led Tucker around back to the barn, where the other rescue dogs greeted us with a chorus of barks and whines. Tucker settled into his space as I gave him fresh water and refilled his food bowl. He headed directly for his bed, circling twice before lying down on with a contented sigh.
“Rest up, bud.”
His eyes were already closing.
I stood there for a moment, listening to the soft sounds of dogs settling in their kennels. The familiar routine usually grounded me, but today my thoughts kept circling back to Rosie. To the way she'd looked at me. The certainty in her voice when she'd said she'd be waiting.
I locked the barn and headed for the clinic.
Sharon was at the reception desk, squinting at the computer screen. She glanced up when I walked in, and her eyebrows rose.
“Well. Someone's in a good mood.”
“Is that unusual?”
“From you? Absolutely.” She clicked the mouse a few times. “Just needed to reschedule some appointments. It was easier to come in than try to do it from home.”
I moved closer, catching sight of the calendar on screen. Next week was packed solid—farm calls stacked between clinic appointments, barely any breathing room. The weight of it threatened to settle back onto my shoulders, familiar and heavy.
Sharon must have noticed the shift in my expression because she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Don't you dare start spiraling. You took a few hours for yourself. The world didn't end.”
“I wasn't—”
“You were.” She pointed at my face. “That expression right there. The one that says you're already calculating how many extra hours you'll need to work to make up for having fun.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“Exactly.” She turned back to the computer. “So tell me about the market before you convince yourself you don't deserve some time off.”
“Tucker did well today. Got a few people interested in him.”
Her whole face brightened. “Really?”
“Yeah. A woman named Amanda seemed serious. She asked good questions, seemed to connect well with him.” I leaned against the desk. “I should be able to find him a family soon.”
“That's great.” Sharon leaned back in her chair, studying me with something close to pride. “That makes three dogs in two weeks.”
“Yeah.”
“Cal.” Her eyes locked on mine. “That's really good. You realize that, right?”
I shrugged, but the lightness in my chest refused to fade. “Guess you were right.”
“I always am.” Her expression softened. “Though I think someone else deserves the credit.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure you don't.” She tapped her pen against the desk. “You smiled just now. Without looking like it physically pained you.”
“I smile.”
“Not like that, you don't.” She tilted her head, eyes sharp but warm. “Whatever's happening, it's good for you. Don't overthink it.”
“I should head back.” I pushed off the desk, needing to move before she could dissect me further. “To the market.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sharon's mouth curved into something knowing. “Wouldn't want to keep a pretty girl waiting.”
I turned toward the door, already moving before she could see my face.
My foot caught the edge of the door frame.
I stumbled, catching myself against the wall with one hand. Even more heat flooded my face as I straightened, refusing to look back.
“Careful there, Romeo,” Sharon called after me, her voice rich with amusement. “Try not to break anything important before you get there.”
I pushed through the door without responding, but her laughter followed me into the parking lot.
The afternoon air hit my face, a light breeze cutting through the heat. I set off toward Main Street, hands in my pockets, telling myself to walk at a normal pace, that there was no reason to hurry.
I lasted half a block.
My legs had other ideas, covering the distance in long, quick strides while my brain offered no meaningful resistance. I passed the hardware store, the post office, the little gap between buildings where the creek smell drifted up.
Then I turned the corner and spotted the white canopy of Rosie's booth above the thinning crowd.
Rosie had her back to me, reaching up to unhook one of the bundles of dried lavender hanging from the canopy frame. She stood on her toes, fingertips just barely brushing the twine.
“Need help?”
She yelped and spun around, hand flying to her chest. “Jesus, Cal!”
“Sorry.” I wasn't, really. The way her eyes went wide made something warm unfurl in my chest.
“Has it been thirty minutes already?”
“More like twenty.” I moved closer, reaching up to unhook the lavender bundle she'd been struggling with.
“Show-off.” But she was smiling when she took the bundle from me. “Not all of us are six feet tall.”
“Five eleven.”
“Oh, excuse me.” She set the lavender in a basket with exaggerated care. “That extra inch makes all the difference.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I didn't mean—”
“Relax.” Her eyes sparkled. “I'm teasing you.”
I knew that. Obviously, I knew that. But standing this close to her, watching the way afternoon light caught in her hair, my brain wasn't processing information correctly.
“What needs to come down next?” I cleared my throat, scanning her booth.
“The sign.” She pointed at the wooden board hanging from the canopy. “Then the tablecloth, then we can start collapsing the table.”
I reached for the sign, unhooking it easily. The painted letters read Sullivan Farm in cheerful yellow, surrounded by small chicken illustrations.
“You made this?”
“Before the first market, yeah.” She folded the tablecloth, movements quick and efficient. “Wanted something more professional than the cardboard one Walt used.”
“It's very... you.”
She glanced up from the tablecloth. “Thanks?”
The uncertainty in her voice stopped me cold.
I set the sign down carefully and turned to face her. She was watching me with that particular expression she got when she wasn't sure whether to laugh or be offended, chin tilted, eyes searching mine.
Say it. Say what you mean.
“I just meant—” I stopped. Started again. “When I say something's very you, that's always going to be good.”
Her hands stilled on the tablecloth.
“The colors. The way you draw things. How everything you touch ends up bright and warm and...” I gestured vaguely at the booth, at her, struggling to find words that didn't sound ridiculous. “Alive. That's what I mean.”
She set down the tablecloth slowly, eyes locked on mine.
“You make everything better just by existing in it.” The words tumbled out faster now. “The market. The adoption event. My whole—” I caught myself. “Everything's better when you're around.”
“Cal.”
“I'm not good at this.” My hands flexed at my sides. “At saying what I mean. But when I look at you, when I'm near you, nothing else feels as important. Not work. Not the rescue. Just... you.”
The distance between us felt impossibly small and still too far.
“I don't know what I'm doing.” My gaze dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “I haven't done this in years. Haven't wanted to. But with you, I—”
“Cal.” She reached up, fingers curling into my shirt. “Stop talking.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Okay.”
“Ask me.”
I couldn't breathe properly. Couldn't think past the way she was looking at me, eyes dark and certain.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Finally.” She pulled me down. “Yes.”
Her lips met mine, soft and sure, and every thought in my head scattered.
Rosie tasted like honey and sunshine, and her fingers tightened in my shirt like she was afraid I'd pull away. Not a chance. I cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, kissing her like I hadn't been thinking about this for days.
She made a small sound against my mouth and rose on her toes, pressing closer. Her hands slid up my chest to my shoulders, and when I deepened the kiss, she responded with an enthusiasm that made my knees go weak.
I pulled her closer. She pressed against me, and the small laugh she breathed into my mouth made me dizzy.
More. I wanted more of this, more of her, more of everything.
Her fingers threaded into my hair, tugging slightly, and I groaned against her lips. She smiled—I felt it—and kissed me harder.
A crash shattered the moment.
I jerked back, heart hammering.
A wooden crate lay overturned at my feet, kale and lettuce scattered across the pavement. My elbow had caught the edge when I'd pulled Rosie closer.
“Crap.” I dropped to my knees, gathering greens with hands that weren't quite steady.
“Cal, it's fine—”
“I knocked over your inventory.” I grabbed a bunch of kale, inspecting the leaves. Still good. I set it carefully back in the crate.
“It's just kale.”
“It shouldn't go to waste.” Another bundle. The lettuce looked intact too. “I wasn't paying attention.”
“You were busy.” Her voice held something that made my hands pause. “I liked what you were busy doing.”
Heat flooded my face. I focused on collecting the last of the greens, arranging them in the crate with more care than necessary.
When I finally stood, brushing dirt from my knees, Rosie was watching me with this soft expression that made my chest tight.
“What?”
“You're so annoyingly helpful.” She shook her head, but she was smiling. “Even when you're the one who made the mess.”
“I should clean up after myself.”
“Most people would've just kicked the crate aside and kept kissing me.”
My pulse kicked. “Did you want me to keep kissing you?”
“Obviously.” She stepped closer, eyes bright. “But you had to be all responsible about the vegetables first.”
“They're your livelihood.”
“I know.” Her hand found mine. “That's what I—” She stopped, bit her lip. “That's what I like about you.”
Warmth settled in my chest.
“You're helpful,” she continued, thumb brushing across my knuckles. “Even when it's inconvenient. Even when most people wouldn't bother. You see something that needs fixing and you just... do it.”
“It's not—”
“Let me finish.” Her eyes locked on mine. “You're blunt. Sometimes painfully so. But you always say what you mean. No games, no pretending. When you tell me something, I know it's real.”
My throat felt tight.
“And you care.” Her voice dropped. “About everyone. The animals, the people who can't pay, that puppy behind the diner. You care so much, it's exhausting just watching you, but you never stop. You just keep showing up, keep helping, keep being...”
She trailed off, a soft smile spreading across her face.
“Keep being what?”
“You.” She squeezed my hand. “You keep being you. And I really, really like that.”
I pulled her close again, cupping her face with my free hand. “Rosie.”
“Yeah?”
“I'm going to kiss you again now.”
Her smile could've lit the whole town. “Please do.”