“I’m Dr. Arnold Rushton. The leader of this group.” The man actually raised his chin and looked down his nose at Alex. Stiffening, Alex managed a friendly smile through gritted teeth. He was in instant dislike, and the feeling was mutual.
The group went around the room with introductions. Alex knew a few of members as they were his poker buddies. When Alex said he was a professional hockey player, some of the ladies giggled, but Rushton and a few of his cohorts regarded him with disdain. Whatever. Alex could care less about their approval.
“Dr. Rushton? Are you an MD?” Alex asked, not because he wanted to know but because he could smell a fraud when the stench was bad enough.
“No, I have a doctorate in literature.”
“I see.” Alex raised his own chin and looked down his nose, easier to do since he had a few inches on the prick.
“I thought tonight was To Kill a Mockingbird?
“That was last week,” Rushton answered with a nasal tone.
“But the schedule said—”
“We adjusted it when the doctor told us of this superior book he’d read,” the woman known as Erma said proudly. She batted her eyes at Dr. Rushton, and he smiled benevolently down at her as if he were a king gracing his subjects with his presence. Alex wanted to gag.
More superior than To Kill a Mockingbird? Alex doubted that. If the title was any indication, the book was boring and depressing. He read all kinds of books, but the true literary stuff was his least favorite, proving there was something innately wrong with him that he couldn’t get into and appreciate literary novels.
Alex sat back and did the wise thing, since his entrance had been less than stellar. He kept his mouth shut. He discovered a few things by observing. Dr. Rushton considered himself superior to everyone in the room. The group held him in reverence for reasons Alex couldn’t fathom. Rushton spouted his bullshit to a small fan club of middle-aged to geriatric women, while the remainder appeared to be there solely for the free wine and nodded off on occasion.
Alex accepted the offer of a glass just to get through the man’s droning on and on for the next hour. Rosalind was even sipping wine, and she rarely drank. She avoided his gaze, but they were sitting close enough that their thighs and hips touched. He purposely leaned forward just to rub his thigh against hers. When he did, she tightened her grip on the book in her hand and stiffened visibly. Yeah, he was getting to her.
He had to step up his campaign to get this woman naked. Tonight had been a setback, but he’d do better next time. He wasn’t usually such a bumbling idiot. He was much smoother than she’d seen from him lately.
Being this close to her was a delicious form of torture, and he indulged in a few carnal fantasies just for entertainment. He filled a paper plate with cheese and crackers, placing it on his lap to conceal the results of said entertainment. He was a bad boy and loving every second of it.
The doc closed the book from which he’d been quoting boring-assed passages. “Does anyone have a suggestion for next time?”
Alex’s hand shot up before he thought better of it. Once again, all eyes turned to him. He’d messed up again though he didn’t have a clue what he’d done this time. “I have a suggestion.”
“And it is?” Dr. Rushton glared at him.
“I think we should read this book.” He pulled Love on Ice out of the bag he’d been carrying. Rushton scowled as if he’d pulled a dead cat from the bag. Some of the women nodded approvingly. A few of the Brothers shouted their agreement, and the remainder of the small group was staunchly silent while sipping their wine.
“We do not read those books in this group. If that’s your reading choice, you are in the wrong group.” Dr. Rushton scolded him as if he were an illiterate idiot.
Alex bristled. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend RoAnn, but he did it anyway. “What is wrong with book? This is well-written, engaging, enjoyable story. Far better than crap you have been lulling us to sleep with all night.”
The Brothers’ heads bobbed up and down and murmured agreement. His geriatric buddies had his back, but no one else did. Even Rosalind was staring at her feet and not saying a word. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap, and her entire body was stiffer than his hockey stick.
Rushton was aghast, the brothers were snickering behind their hands, and several of the members were in shock, while others poured another glass of wine and watched the show. This book club didn’t speak up against Rushton.
“We read literature with value and substance, not contrived, plotless fluff with titillation as its only goal.”
“Have you ever read a romance novel?”
The man leveled an intimidating stare in Alex’s direction. Alex gave one right back. He was an elite hockey player. This guy was out of his league if he thought he could make Alex cower. The room was hushed as the two men stared each other down. Rushton looked away first, choosing to ignore Alex.
“Next week we’ll read the next book on our list as Rosalind has already procured enough copies for the group.” Rushton stood, cast another glare Alex’s direction, and held his arm out to Erma. Together, they walked to the table spread out with snacks in the back of the room.
“Pompous ass,” Homer muttered loud enough for Alex to hear.
“No shit,” Alex agreed, rolling his eyes.
One of the women in the group sniffed as if she smelled something bad in the room. “Having a man as esteemed as Dr. Rushton leading our group is a huge honor. You should treat him with due respect.”
Alex shrugged. “Respect is earned, not given. He is not earning in my book.”
“Alex, please.” Rosalind tugged on his arm. He glanced at her and guilt sliced through him. Her cheeks were tinged with pink. He’d embarrassed her to prove his own point.
“Sorry.”
“Please leave. You’ve done enough damage for one night,” she hissed.
This would be the second time she’d kicked him out of her store. He opened his mouth to defend his position but thought better of it. “We will talk later.”
She shot him a look that would’ve been deadly for a lesser man. “No need. You are not welcome in this bookstore any longer.”
He gathered his stuff into his bag and walked toward the door. She followed him, probably not done ass-chewing yet.
“But what about edits on hockey books?” He paused with his hand on the doorknob. The rest of the group had congregated around the snack table, chatting loudly.
“Thank you for your assistance. I won’t need your help on the other books. I’ll check facts myself.”
“You will? Are not these your friend’s books?” He was puzzled. When her face flushed from the neck up, he was even more confused. She had a personal stake in these books. He didn’t know why, but he knew she was more than just a friend of the author.
He stared at her for a moment longer, abject failure and sadness overwhelming him. He turned away. He couldn’t let her see how much she affected him. He’d given a shit about a woman and look where it’d gotten him.
He growled in disgust at his whiny thoughts.
The wise thing to do would be walk away from her. Plenty of other women would die to take what he offered. Only other women weren’t Rosalind. He wanted her, maybe more than even he’d realized. He wasn’t a quitter, and her rejection would not dissuade him. One night with her would be worth all the trouble, and he never backed down from a challenge.
He left the building and strode down the sidewalk, head held high and his brain working overtime on possible next moves.
He’d give her a few days to cool off, then he’d tuck his tail between his legs and grovel an apology if necessary.
Tonight might be a setback, but Alexander “Rush” Markov did not give up easily. She’d pulled ahead, but he was certain he’d score in the end.
~ ~ ~ ~
Rosalind had to get herself together.
Her head reeled with conflicting emotions. Her heart ached as she recalled the whipped
-puppy expression on Alex’s face as he glanced over his shoulder before walking out the door. She’d been too harsh and ungrateful. He’d only been trying to help. He had no idea she’d written those books and preferred to fly under the radar.
When she’d lost her temper and told Alex not to come back, she didn’t believe he’d actually do as she’d asked, but so far she hadn’t seen his arrogant smirk and it was afternoon of the next day. Had he actually taken her outburst of anger seriously?
She owed him an apology for being so angry at his defense of her books and romance novels in general. Of course, he didn’t know those were her books. She should’ve thanked him rather than chewing out his oh-so-fine butt.
She couldn’t make sense of her emotions. Nothing was going as planned this summer. Perhaps a short trip to the mainland to get her head on straight was in order. Nothing elaborate. Just a night or two in Seattle for some shopping and maybe a girls’ weekend.
Her mother came into the store late afternoon. By then Rosalind had made her decision. She was going to Seattle to visit her friend Lavender, who was married to Tyler Harris. The Harris family spent as much time as they could at Tyler’s Mansion, Twin Cedars, down the road from the Parker estate. Tyler was an assistant coach for the Steelheads, so Lavender often came to the island alone with their three kids, and Rosalind adored the little hellions. They’d met while out walking a few years ago and struck up a fast friendship. Lavender was one of her few friends who knew about her pen name and was actually a reader of her books.
“Mom, will you work the store for me tomorrow and Saturday? I’m going to the mainland. I know it’s short notice.”
“Certainly, honey. What’s the purpose of the visit?”
“I’m going to visit Lavender in Seattle. She hasn’t made it to the island in quite a while because of the kids’ activities.”
“That’s good. You need some off-island time.” Her mother scrutinized her in that way only mothers could. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
“No, Mom. Nothing. I need a break.” She avoided her mother’s gaze, even though her mom would see such avoidance as a big red flag. Letting her mom see her confusion would be even worse.
“Is it Alex? I heard you had a run-in with him.”
“I did, and I was awful.”
“That’s not like you, Roz. You’re nice to everyone.”
“But him,” she admitted.
A slow smile crossed her mother’s face. “Yes, but him. Are you sure running away is the answer?”
“I have to go for my own good. I’m torn, Mom.” She admitted more than she intended.
“In what manner?”
Rosalind rubbed her hands over her face, trying to clear all the confusing emotions slamming around in her head. “I’m attracted to Alex.”
“Alex is a very handsome young man. If I were younger, I’d find him attractive too.”
“It’s not just an appreciation of his looks. The store isn’t doing well. My writing is blocked. I’m transferring my frustrations into an infatuation with Alex. I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Maybe you should pursue a relationship. See where it goes.”
“Alex and I are incompatible. We rub each other the wrong way every time we’re together. Did you hear the details of what happened at book club last night?”
“He defended your books. I find that endearing. It’s more than David ever did.”
Her mother spoke the truth, but Rosalind was still in denial. “Alex doesn’t know I write those books. No one does. That’s a secret I intend to keep.”
“Even better. He defended romance novels. I wish you’d get over your insecurities and be proud of your work. Your writing is engaging and clever.”
Rosalind didn’t want to talk about her books. The tug of war between what she loved to write and what she thought she should write was a continual source of frustration.
“But he’s a hockey player, Mom. He’s used to the limelight, spending big money, stuff like that. We’re total opposites. He’s nothing like the man of my dreams. He’s not a long-term-relationship type guy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dating a guy who isn’t going to be your forever love. Have fun. You’re young. Enjoy it.”
“Mom, I’m not good with casual dating. I fall in love.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. Not every man needs to be marriage material. Just like friends come and go in our lives, sometimes love interests do, too, but they can teach us valuable life lessons and give us experience to draw from down the road. You’ve only seriously dated one man. Perhaps you need to expand your experience before deciding what you think you want,” her mother pointed out gently. Rosalind hated the pitying expression on her mother’s face.
Her mother didn’t understand. No one did. Sometimes Rosalind wondered if she understood herself. She had her list. She knew what she wanted, and she didn’t need to date a bunch of men to figure out what she needed.
“Maybe,” Rosalind hedged.
What if her mother was right, and Rosalind was wrong?
Chapter 10—Mainland
At six thirty on Friday morning, Alex woke, feeling refreshed and ready for the day to begin. He started out with a run along the winding two-lane country road, filling his nostrils with the scent of fir needles and saltwater. The cool morning air invigorated him in ways he’d never imagined possible. He’d always held the belief he wasn’t a morning person, but for the past few days, he’d woken with the sunlight streaming through the open windows while birds chirped happily from their perches in the nearby trees.
Alex hadn’t seen Cave in a few days. The guy was having a good time, and he’d heard rumors about a drunken Cave from all over the island and neighboring islands. His partner in crime, Clarissa, was right beside him. The last Alex had heard, they’d rented a yacht and headed for Victoria, BC, which was only an hour away by water. Cave had even texted Alex last night and invited him along. Alex was tempted to fall back into old habits, considering his frustration with all things Rosalind, but he did the right thing and said no thanks.
After a quick shower, Alex dressed and took his coffee onto the wide back porch. He sat down and surveyed the panoramic view so different from his city view in Seattle, a view he’d once considered priceless and coveted. What was the big deal? His condo view was a bunch of buildings and concrete with noise from the construction across the street and cars below assaulting his ears.
He shifted uncomfortably on the plush seat cushion. He was changing, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Last night he’d invited the Brothers for a steak barbecue dinner, and the food hadn’t turned out half-bad. He’d never cooked before unless it was something he could microwave. After the Brothers had toddled off to their respective homes, he’d sat on the edge of the dock and listened to the water lapping against the shore as the tide went out. He’d reveled in the bright orange and pink sunset and even taken a few pics to post on social media. He hadn’t been bored one bit.
Rosalind occupied a good majority of his thoughts. He’d made a plan for once. He was going to take some positive steps to rectify the wrongs he’d ignorantly done to Rosalind.
Confused and frustrated, he’d avoided the store since Wednesday night to give her time to cool off. At first he hadn’t understood what she’d been so upset about. He’d defended her friend’s books to the literary snobs. Shouldn’t that earn him points? Well, it hadn’t, and now he owed her an apology. He should’ve learned the lay of the land before he spoke. He’d challenged Rushton’s authority and possibly damaged Rosalind’s business considering the book club members were all customers of hers.
After he dressed, Alex jogged to the bookstore to apologize. Her mother was there, but no Rosalind.
“Roz went to the mainland for a few days,” her mother told him. Disappointment weighed heavily on him. He’d been looking forward to seeing her pretty face even if she was still furious. A steaming Rosalind was sexy as hell. Now if he could chann
el all the energy she burned being mad at him into other things.
“I will catch her when she gets back. I messed up a few nights ago.”
“I heard about that.”
“You did?”
“It’s a small island, Alex. News travels fast and nothing is secret for long.”
“I embarrassed her in front of her group.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Rushton is a pompous horse’s butt who thinks he’s superior to every other human on this island, probably the planet. The only mistake you made is not realizing he’s a legend in his own mind and has a tiny cult following. Everyone else ignores him.”
“Is Rosalind a disciple?” God, he hoped not. If she was, they had less in common than he’d thought.
“Oh, no, she doesn’t like him, either, but he brings customers into the store so she defers to him.”
As tough as professional hockey might be, Alex was once again glad he didn’t have to cater to customers he disliked just to make a living. He might have to deal with unruly fans and demanding management, but his game play was what really mattered when it came down to it.
“Alex, why don’t you join us for dinner tomorrow night?” MaryAnn suggested. “Jim is making his barbecued ribs.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thanks for the invitation.” Alex grinned, feeling somewhat better than he had earlier.
~ ~ ~ ~
Rosalind woke the next morning in the Harrises’ lovely guest bedroom with its own en-suite bathroom. After a sleepless night, she’d fallen asleep sometime near dawn. She felt rode hard and put away wet, as one of the heroines from her books was fond of saying, and she hadn’t even had wild and crazy sex. She’d managed three hours of sleep, if that.
She’d arrived in Seattle around midnight due to one of the ferries breaking down on the San Juan run. Out of respect for Tyler and Lavender, who looked more tired than she felt, she’d gone straight to bed.
Late in the afternoon, the nanny had taken the kids to the park, Tyler had gone into the team training facility, and finally Lavender and she had some alone time.
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