by Arell Rivers
“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.” Her chin goes up.
“Rose, I don’t think of you as a child. I know you’re an independent woman.” Boy, do I ever. “But it’s okay to accept help sometimes. And right now is one of those times. Besides, I told the cop that you’d be with me. He said he’d call me when your place has been cleared for you to return.”
“He has my cell too, Cole.”
We’re at a standoff. Rose is staring at me with a belligerent look, the kind of look that says she knows she’s lost this argument and she’s not happy about it. Her chin wobbles, but remains in place. Damn, all I want to do is wrap my arms around her, hold her tight and get her the hell out of here.
“I think I see Cole Manchester over there. Cole, what brings you to this area of town?”
As if this evening couldn’t get any more complicated. Somehow I didn’t notice Alicia and her news crew setting up for a live report. No way am I going to be trapped in an interview with my former date.
“Rose,” I say in an undertone, “the reporters are starting to get here. If you’re not ready to have your photo plastered everywhere with mine, it’s time to leave.”
That statement gets through to Rose. “I need to get to the hospital to see Tommy.”
Her roommate. “Fine, I’ll drive. Is your car in the garage?” She nods yes. I hand her my keys. “Good. Leave it there. I’ll take care of the reporters and meet you in my car, okay?”
Silently, Rose takes my keys and walks off in the direction of my car, her head down. Thank fuck she didn’t fight me on this.
I make my way toward Alicia. “Hey, Alicia. It’s nice to see you, even under these circumstances.” Please don’t harbor any bad feelings toward me after our one and only date.
“You too, Cole. We heard that the burglary ring struck this house tonight. What brings you here?”
I swallow. Think fast. I’m suddenly happy that Rose’s roommate is a guy. He’s the perfect cover, and should overshadow the fact that I’m at my publicist’s house. “My friend was home when the robbers broke in. I figured I’d try to get an update from the police before visiting him in the hospital.” I hold my breath, hoping that Alicia doesn’t pick up on the lie.
“So your friend was hurt? That’s a new twist. No one’s ever been hurt by this group before.”
Seems like she’s buying it. Better get out while I can. “Yeah, he’s in the hospital overnight. Sorry I don’t have any more information for you. I hope your report tonight gets the police some good tips.” I pause, watching Alicia take in everything I told her. “Alicia, I would appreciate it if you could keep me out of this story.”
“I won’t mention your name, Cole.”
Murmuring my thanks, I leave Alicia with her news crew and make a beeline for my car. Rose sits in the passenger side, just like I had asked her. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
TOMMY, ROSE’S ROOMMATE, is in pretty bad shape regardless of what the police told us. Two broken ribs, two black eyes, too many bruises to count. The nurse confirms that he’ll be released in the morning, which perks Rose up. I stand outside the room, giving Rose and Tommy some privacy. How could a day that started out so lightheartedly turn into this? I resolve to make sure that Rose’s night finishes on a positive note.
A little while later, Rose leaves Tommy’s room, her shoulders drooping. “Okay, I’m ready to leave. Thank you for driving me here and for offering to take me in tonight. I really appreciate it.”
I never want to see her this dejected again. “No worries, Rose. Let’s go home.”
I like how that last sentence sounds. Shit, I’m in deep, but it feels so right to be with her.
Rose falls asleep in the car on the way to the house. I’m sure she’s exhausted now that the adrenaline has worn off. Pulling into my driveway, I look over at her. She’s absolutely gorgeous. For once, her hair is loose. She looks so heartbreakingly tiny, but I know that she’s 100% grit and determination.
The car’s stopping rouses her. “We’re here,” I whisper. Her sleepy eyes lock with mine. “Do you want me to carry you inside?”
I’m all for picking her up and walking into the house with her in my arms. Rose’s eyes widen, as if she can read my thoughts. At least she doesn’t look repulsed.
“I’m awake. You don’t have to carry me, Cole.”
Too bad.
She follows me into the house, up the stairs and into a guest bedroom at the end of the hall. Thankfully, my cleaning lady was here the other day and everything looks tidy. “There’s an extra toothbrush in the adjoining bathroom. Let me grab you a T-shirt to sleep in.”
“Thanks. I can’t believe I didn’t even take an overnight bag from my place.”
“I don’t think the cops would have let you take anything from the house. It’s fine, I have plenty of extras.”
I quickly walk to my bedroom on the other side of the house, and return with an extra-large T-shirt from my first tour. Mom had insisted that I keep a bunch of shirts from the Meet Me In The Back Room tour.
“Here you go, Rose. Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.” I turn to go, even though all I want to do is put my arms around her and hold her all night long.
“Cole?”
Looking back at her, I quirk an eyebrow, and say, “Yes?” Whatever her question is, my answer is yes.
She takes a deep breath. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”
I can’t stop myself. Without saying another word, I walk over and wrap my arms around her. Shifting my hands to her cheeks, I tilt her head up and give her a reassuring kiss on her forehead.
“You’re safe here, Rose. Pleasant dreams.”
I LOOK OVER AT the clock for the hundredth time since leaving Rose in my guestroom. Finally it registers seven, so I figure I can get up. Rose may be sleeping in a totally separate area of the house, but I didn’t want to risk making noise any earlier.
I go into my bathroom and brush my teeth. Despite the early hour and my lack of sleep, my eyes are bright with anticipation. I’m looking forward to spending more time with Rose today, even if we have to spend it working through this awful mess. Oh, and I have about a million questions for her. Like who the hell is Tommy? From what I could tell in the hospital, her roommate doesn’t seem gay. An unexpected spike of jealousy and protectiveness races through my bloodstream. Something else niggles at the back of my brain about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Shaking my head, I turn on the shower and step into the spray, letting the water cascade over my body. In my mind’s eye, I picture Rose in here with me. She’s naked and glistening with water. Damn, it’s enough to make me hard in an instant. I want to push my throbbing cock into her and watch as she comes undone. I can almost hear her making all sorts of sexy noises while I pump into her tight pussy, my hands roaming between her boobs and ass.
I curse my vivid imagination and grab my cock in my right hand, so turned on that I can barely stand. I widen my stance and slowly move my hand up and down my hard shaft, picturing Rose’s mouth doing that for me. The water droplets hit my body, heightening my pleasure. My hand moves faster; my breathing accelerates. I’m so fucking close. With a few quick movements of my hand, an orgasm surges through my entire body. My hips jerk as come shoots out, and I place one hand on the wall for support.
I better get a grip on myself or else Rose will think I’m a minute man. But what that Fantasy Rose does to me . . . I wonder if I can survive the real woman.
Catching my breath, I soap up and finish my shower. Dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a T-shirt from my friend Ozzy Martinez’s last concert tour, I head downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast.
A few minutes later, a slightly disheveled Rose wanders into the kitchen wearing the T-shirt I gave her last night, which hits her nearly at her knees, giving me an unobstructed view of her bare legs.
To sto
p my mind from picturing all the delicious things I would like to be doing with those legs, I ask, “Would you like some coffee? I have a Keurig and plenty of choices over there.”
Her gaze finds the coffee machine. “Thank you, Cole. I can’t seem to say that enough to you.”
I pull a coffee mug out of the cabinet and hand it to her before returning my attention to the ingredients I’ve been prepping. “I’m putting a ban on the words ‘thank you’ for the rest of the day. You’ve said that enough, and I’ve told you that I’m more than happy to be helping you out. Now, what would you like in your omelet?”
Rose looks startled. “You’re making omelets?”
“What, did you think I couldn’t cook?” I clutch my chest, pretending to be offended. “There’s more to me than singing. And a killer bod.” I wiggle my eyebrows in her direction.
She looks down, tugs on the T-shirt and walks over to select her coffee. “I didn’t mean anything by my remark. Sorry.”
I’m not going to let this mood continue. “Rose, I was teasing. How would you know I’m not one of those guys who always orders in? I like to cook because it centers me. Now, look at all the stuff I have here and let me know what you’d like in your omelet.”
Rose smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m duly impressed, Mr. Manchester. I’ll take mushrooms, spinach and some of that grated cheese, please. It all looks delicious.”
“Sounds good. Let me put my apron on and your omelet will be right up.” I go into my pantry looking for that crazy-ass apron Jayson gave me last Christmas. I’m sure it will help Rose loosen up a bit. Tying it around my waist, I saunter back into the kitchen. Rose is taking a sip of her coffee.
“What do you think?”
It’s touch and go for a minute, but Rose manages to swallow her coffee instead of spitting it all over. Tears stream down her face, she’s laughing so hard. Score!
“Where on earth did you ever get an apron that says that?”
Putting on my most innocent face, I look down at my apron and back up at her. “What? Don’t you like it?” Rose keeps on laughing.
The front gate bell interrupts us. Chuckling to myself, I check the intercom and then answer the front door. “Jessie, Amanda, I’m so glad you could get here on such short notice. Come on in, Rose is in the kitchen. I’m about to make us some omelets.”
Both of the ladies have a good laugh about my apron as we enter the kitchen. They rush over to Rose and give her a big hug.
“I’m so glad you weren’t there when they broke in.”
Rose tugs the T-shirt down with one hand while running her other hand through her hair. At least she doesn’t look pissed at me for inviting them over. “Thank you, Jessie. Me too,” Rose says, slanting me a look because she used the banned words. I nod in acknowledgement and give her a smirk.
“I bet you’re going to be very happy when you see what’s in this bag,” adds Amanda. “Although, I’m not so sure your host will agree.”
After shooting me a quizzical look, Rose takes the proffered bag and opens it, revealing a heap of new clothes. I hope she’s okay with Jessie and Amanda doing this for her. I texted Jessie last night, and she eagerly agreed to my request. Judging from the size of the bag, they’ve gone above and beyond.
“Jessie, Amanda, you guys shouldn’t have done this. I’m sure I’ll be able to get back into my place soon.” Rose tries to return the bag to them, but Amanda stops her.
“Rose, after everything you’ve done for Jessie and me, this is the very least we could do for you. Please don’t insult us. Keep the clothes and wear them in good health.”
“You both are so kind.”
Grabbing the bag from Rose’s hands, I sort through the clothes, saying, “I hope there’s something sexy in here. I’m taking Rose out tonight, and I want to make every guy jealous!” Triumphantly, I pull a light green dress out of the bag and pretend to model it, making the women laugh.
Smiling, I set the bag down in the corner. “C’mon, ladies,” I say, pointing at the fixings, “it’s omelet time. What’ll it be?”
While I’m making the omelets, they set the table. Rose disappears into another room and comes back out wearing leggings. Ruined my view. Jessie and Amanda brought some bagels and fruit to accompany my omelets, so we have a feast. Rose’s laugh resonates with me like keys on the piano.
Breakfast is exactly what Rose needed. She’s so lighthearted and upbeat. I’m surprised when Rose brings up Jessie’s current “stage” boyfriend and the comment that DJ made a couple of weeks ago. We discuss inserting me in a “love triangle”—an idea Jessie loves—and Rose promises to bring up the idea to Greta. Amanda catches my eye and gives me a look that says Rose is the real miracle worker, not Gruesome. I nod in silent agreement.
After our meal, I escort Jessie and Amanda to the front door while Rose insists on putting the leftovers away. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Jessie whispers, her head motioning toward the kitchen.
“It’s innocent, I swear,” I reply. Well, maybe not so innocent.
Amanda’s skeptical look stops me in my tracks. “We like her. A lot.” Both ladies nod. Amanda gives me a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for brunch. Please be careful with her.”
Jessie kisses me good-bye. “She works for Greta. Things could get complicated.”
Don’t I know it. “Like I said on the phone last night, I wanted to help Rose out after the robbery. And,” I take a deep breath. “I’m not toying with her.”
Jessie stares at me for a long moment, right into my soul. “You’re different with her. Just make sure you’re both on the same page, okay? She could lose her job over this.”
Jessie’s words repeat on a loop as I return to the now tidy kitchen. Rose looks at me, her eyes nearly drowning me in their icy blue depths. “Cole. What you—” Her cell rings, diverting her attention. Damn. She takes a deep breath and answers it as she leaves the kitchen. “Hello, Greta.”
Figuring that the call may take a while, I dry and put away the brunch cookware while replaying my last conversation with Jessie and Amanda. Chore completed, I turn on the TV to see how the news is covering the break-in at Rose’s. I catch Alicia’s report, which does not mention either Rose or me by name. The crime scene shot does have me in it, but my back is to the camera, so I don’t think anyone will notice. Good.
Rose walks silently into the kitchen and grabs the bag of clothes Jessie and Amanda brought over. She turns to go to her room, obviously to shower, but her demeanor has taken a drastic left turn. Placing my hand on top of the one that’s holding the bag, I ask, “Rose, what’s wrong?”
Refusing to look up at me, she murmurs, “Nothing, Cole. I want to get cleaned up. Thanks for the delicious breakfast.”
“We’re done with that word today, remember?” I say, giving her hand a little squeeze. “We were having a great morning with Jessie and Amanda. Tell me what Gruesome said to upset you.”
“She didn’t say anything, Cole. She saw a report on TV and pieced together that it was in my neighborhood. She wanted to make sure I was okay. It shocked her to hear my place was the one that got hit.”
I’m suspicious. Those sentiments do not seem to be in line with what I know of Gruesome. “I call bullshit.”
Ice-blue eyes collide with mine. “What?”
“You heard me. What is the deal with you and Gruesome? What does she have on you?”
“She doesn’t have anything on me. Why on earth would you think she does?”
Indignation on her behalf bubbles to the surface. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way you jump to fulfill her every ludicrous order. Maybe it’s how you seem to be managing both Jessie’s career and mine but always give her the credit. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”
The bag of clothes drops to the floor. Rose looks everywhere but into my eyes. It’s time for me to get to the bottom of this one mystery. I soften my tone, not releasing her hand.
“Please, Rose, let me in. You have
to know that I have real feelings for you. I want to help you, but I need to understand. Tell me about Gruesome.”
“Cole, I love being a publicist. And I love Greta’s clients.” She pauses, as if realizing what she just admitted to me. I’m not arrogant enough to think she means it literally. Yet. “I mean, I love the opportunity to work with her A-Listers. It’s amazing. You all keep me on my toes.” She gives me a half-hearted smile.
“Look, I get it if Gruesome has structured her business so that she brings in the clients and has you do all the work. But why are you afraid of her? You do excellent work.”
“I’m not afraid of Greta. I just really need this job.” Rose sighs, obviously hoping I will drop the subject. When I raise an eyebrow and gesture for her to continue, she says, “I don’t have any back-up. My mom raised me basically by herself, and it was tough for her to keep food on the table.” She takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. “When I was a teenager, her daycare business failed and she had to file for bankruptcy. I was lucky enough to get a full scholarship to NYU, and promised myself that I’d never end up in a similar financial situation. So, I live well within my means. And I learned from Mom, who’s much happier being an employee at a daycare center than she ever was as a business owner, so I make sure to do whatever Greta wants in order to keep my job.”
I ponder what she’s told me. Did I know that she went to my alma mater? I can’t remember ever discussing it with her. “What happened with your father?”
“He never was in the picture. He had money, but he never paid my mom any child support,” she responds quietly.
“Your mom sounds like a strong woman. She certainly passed her work ethic on to you. Did you get your independent spirit from her, too?”
“I wouldn’t call it that. But, yes, she taught me how to take care of myself.”
I nod, remembering how she reacted when I helped her with her car. “So that explains why you live in Venice, with a roommate.”
