2. Rosalyn
ROSALYN
Barrett is watching me from across the terrace.
I notice him between greeting Mindy’s college roommate and redirecting one of Noah’s cousins away from the private cabanas reserved for another event.
It should be impossible to notice one silent man when there are forty people gathered under string lights with drinks in their hands and the ocean rolling softly beyond the low wall, but Barrett isn’t built to fade into anything.
He stands near a stone column with his broad arms crossed over his chest, wearing the same black T-shirt and jeans from earlier, looking deeply uncomfortable and far too large for the delicate glass in his hand.
Every time I glance over, his eyes are already on me.
It should make me nervous. Maybe it does, a little. Mostly, though, I’m amused. Barrett has all the subtlety of a falling tree, and somehow it only makes him more attractive.
“Rosalyn, did the resort confirm the breakfast room for tomorrow?” Mindy asks, touching my elbow.
“Yes. Ocean Room, nine o’clock.” I turn toward her and adjust the plumeria blossom in her hair. “Your aunt tried to move it to the lanai, but I told her the Ocean Room photographs better.”
Mindy exhales. “I love you.”
“I know. That’s why I get a blue dress and a bouquet tomorrow.”
“You also get my eternal devotion.”
“I’ll take that too.”
She laughs, and I feel Barrett’s attention even before I look back.
He’s still there, gaze steady, mouth unsmiling.
The man barely moves, but somehow he keeps making the air feel charged from fifty feet away.
I have the ridiculous thought that if I waved him over, he would come immediately, cutting through every wedding guest in his path without caring who he startled.
I don’t wave him over. I’m the maid of honor, and this welcome party has at least six small fires that still need smothering.
I check with the bartender about mocktails for Mindy’s pregnant cousin, help her grandmother find her shawl, and steer two groomsmen toward food before the cocktails get ahead of them.
Through all of it, I remain aware of Barrett.
But when I finally look for him again, he’s no longer by the column.
For a moment, disappointment pulls at me.
Then I spot him near the path that leads down toward the beach, half turned away from the crowd, his shoulders tense.
An older woman is talking at him with animated hands, and Barrett is nodding at all the correct moments, but his gaze lifts over her head and finds me again.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too much.
There’s no reason for me to be this charmed by his discomfort.
It isn’t that I want him uneasy. I don’t.
But I like that Barrett isn’t performing ease he doesn’t feel, and he isn’t trying to become someone softer just because everyone around him is cheerful.
He’s exactly what he is, big and serious and silent in the middle of a beach resort, and I’m hopelessly intrigued.
I smooth a hand down the front of my dress and start toward him. Barrett, of course, sees me coming. The woman speaking to him notices his attention has moved and turns around with a polite smile.
“Sorry to steal him,” I say. “Best man business. It’s extremely serious.”
The woman laughs and pats his arm before she leaves. Barrett lets out a long breath.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” he says.
“Was it really that horrible?”
“She asked me whether my cabin has indoor plumbing.”
I press my lips together, but my smile escapes anyway. “Does it?”
His eyes narrow slightly, and my stomach dips in the nicest way. “Yes, Rosalyn.”
“Electricity?”
“Yes.”
“Windows?”
“Some.”
I laugh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease. Seriously, though. Are you okay?”
His response is a low, wordless grunt.
I try not to laugh again, but it comes out anyway.
“Come with me,” I say, before I can talk myself out of it.
I take him through the side of the terrace and down a lantern-lit path bordered by palms and flowers.
The music softens behind us with each step, replaced by the rush of water and the steady sound of the waves.
Soon the path opens to a stretch of lawn overlooking the beach.
Rows of white chairs are already set up for tomorrow’s ceremony, all facing an arch covered in greenery and cream flowers.
The aisle runner is rolled at the side, and the whole space is empty except for the two of us.
“This is where they’re getting married,” I say, stepping onto the grass. “Mindy wanted ocean behind them. Noah wanted whatever made Mindy happy.”
“That sounds right.”
“Are you close with your brother?” I ask.
“Close enough.”
“Mindy said you practically raised him.”
“She exaggerates.”
“Does she?”
He doesn’t answer, just works his jaw.
I turn toward the ocean so I don’t stare at him too openly. “You really live alone on a mountain?”
“Yes.”
“With bears?”
“Not in the house.”
“That’s comforting.”
“They mostly keep to themselves.”
“What’s it really like? Your mountain?”
For the first time all evening, some of the tension leaves his face.
“Quiet. Cold half the year. Hard work most days. I’ve got a cabin about forty minutes from the closest town, farther if the road’s bad.
There’s timber behind the property, a creek down the slope, and always something busted.
Enough repairs to keep me busy until I’m dead. ”
“That sounds beautiful.”
“It is.”
“Did you and Noah grow up there?”
“Near there. Smaller house. Less land. Dad worked logging crews. Mom kept everything running. Noah hated the cold and loved people, so he got out as soon as he could.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yeah. That’s where I belong.”
His certainty is matter-of-fact. I envy it a little. Maybe more than a little. “That must be nice.”
He studies me. “You don’t belong somewhere?”
I fold my hands around the edge of the wall behind me, letting the stone cool my palms. “I’m still figuring that out.
I’ve moved around a lot. Different jobs, different apartments, different plans that sounded good for a while.
I’m good at packing, making friends fast, finding the best bakery in a new neighborhood, and saying yes when someone asks if I want to try something new. ”
“What kind of something?”
I shrug. “Weekend trips. Dance classes. Ziplining. Last-minute concerts. A pottery class that ended with a very ugly bowl.”
His mouth finally curves, and the sight of it sends a bright pull through my chest. His smile changes him without making him softer. It also makes him more dangerous to my common sense.
“You’re adventurous,” he says.
“I enjoy knowing there’s more out there than my usual routine.”
“And this weekend?”
“This weekend is for Mindy.” I glance back toward the terrace, though we can’t see it from here. “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister. I want everything to be easy for her.”
“You’re good at taking care of people.”
I look down, smoothing my thumb over a tiny uneven spot in the stone. “I try.”
“You do more than try.”
I don’t know what to do with the way he says it. Most men flirt by trying to be charming. Barrett doesn’t seem to try at all. He just sees something, says it, and leaves me standing there with my skin warm and my heartbeat unsteady.
“You’ve been watching me,” I say.
“Yes.”
I lift my eyes to his. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then returns. “I’m not good at pretending I don’t want what I want.”
The quiet around us thickens. The ocean keeps moving in the dark, but I barely hear it over the pulse in my ears. Barrett steps closer, slowly enough that I could move away. I don’t. My body stays exactly where it is, back against the low wall, chin lifted as he closes the space between us.
“Rosalyn.”
My name in his voice is low and rough, and I feel it everywhere. “Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I should remember the welcome drinks, the guests, the fact that I brought him here to give him air. But his hand settles against the side of my face, and the choice is so clear that I don’t have to think about it.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Barrett doesn’t rush it. His mouth dips to mine with unwavering certainty, and my entire body responds before my mind can catch up.
I press my hands to the front of his shirt, feeling solid muscle under my palms, and he makes a low sound that sends warmth through every needy, inexperienced part of me.
His other hand settles at my waist, wanting but not demanding, holding me there while he deepens the kiss enough to make the world narrow to his mouth, his hands, his heat.
I’ve never felt anything like this before. Not even close.
When he finally lifts his head, I’m clutching his shirt. His thumb moves once along my cheek, and his eyes search mine with an intensity that makes me feel seen to my core.
“I—uh—should get back,” I stammer. “Mindy might need me.”
“She might.”
And yet I don’t move.
Barrett’s hand remains at my waist for one more breath before he lets me go.
The loss of contact is sharp. I step back, smooth both of my unsteady hands down the front of my dress, and try to find the version of myself who can manage welcome drinks, ceremony details, and relatives with sunscreen emergencies.
She feels very, very far away.
“I’ll see you back there?” I ask.
His eyes stay on mine. “Yep.”
I make it three steps up the path before I look back, and Barrett is exactly where I left him, tall and still beneath the lanterns, watching me with no intention of looking anywhere else.
I hurry toward the noise of the party with my lips still warm and my thoughts scattered beyond repair.