by Sabre, Mason
“Is everything okay with you?” she asked idling up to him. “You look …”
“Sorry I …” Yeah, think idiot. “I was just a bit worried you got lost that’s all. Easy to do around here. Never know, could end up at the other side of the country. Anyway …” he swung his backpack off and lifted it. “I bought wine. Rosé.” He held his hand out to her like he had done years ago—it felt like years ago. She took it with ease this time and he laced his fingers through hers.
He unlocked the front door and let her walk in before him. “First door on your left,” he said, directing her toward the lounge. The door to his mother’s room glared at him. A deep set knowing eye burning into his soul, wagging its finger at him and saying it knew what he had done. Behind it … he would face it tomorrow. Before Rosie came to stay properly. “This is the lounge,” he said standing behind her. “The house is still in a bit of a state. I've a lot to get in order since my mother …”
His words trailed off and Rosie’s eyes softened in that sympathetic way. He didn’t want that. He didn’t need sympathy. Sympathy just bled the wound inside his chest that he fought desperately to close up. “It’s just you here?”
“And you,” he said, winking. “Sit down. I’ll get us some glasses and something to eat.”
He backed out of the lounge and grabbed the key in the lock of the door to his mother’s room. Twisting it, he pulled the key out and stuffed it in his pocket. Why he hadn't done that before. Lock her in there until he was ready. She’d not come out and break this for him.
Entering the clean and tidy kitchen was a shock to see, as if someone had come in and done it while he was away. His mind was so used to the shithole his mother had kept in here that he’d managed to wade through it all was hard to believe.
He brewed a pot of coffee as well as got two glasses for the wine. He wasn’t really sure what Rosie wanted and maybe she didn’t drink. Those Americans were funny, weren’t they? They didn’t seem to drink the same way the English did and maybe she would be offended at his offering. As he waited for the water to heat, he pulled the phone from his pocket.
Everything is great. Are you okay?
William peered around the kitchen door before he replied.
Here too. Perfect. Thank you for talking to me tonight.
Anytime. I’m here if you need me.
Me too. Just call. Enjoy your evening, Rosie.
He turned the phone off and shoved it back into his pocket as the mask inside his mind slid up again and Josh emerged. That was how it felt at least. Like he would walk behind a mask, put it on, take it off. He suddenly caught sight of himself in the mirror over table and saw William, not Josh. He tried to shake it from his mind as he grabbed the tray. He was Josh.
The lounge door creaked and a second later, Rosie appeared at the kitchen doorway. “Anything I can help you with?” she said. “I feel like …I don’t know. Like I should do something.”
“Well,” he said opening the fridge. “I said I would make you a grilled cheese sandwich.” He glanced up at the clock above the back door. It was just after eleven. “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Wine or coffee?”
“Wine please,” she said, nervousness in her voice. Maybe she was afraid to ask for it. He poured her a glass and one for himself.
“I hope you like Rosé. I just figured everyone did.”
“Rosé is good.” She remained in the doorway with her glass close to her chest in both hands, watching him as he took out a board and began grating the cheese. He got a bottle of Worcestershire sauce and sprinkled it into the bowl. “What’s that you're adding?”
“This?” He lifted the bottle. “Just the best thing to add to everything,” he said grinning. “Never had it?”
“Not sure.”
William walked over with the bowl and grabbed a pinch of grated cheese. “Taste it.”
She opened and leaned in. His thumb grazed across her top lip and he licked the remaining sauce off right after, eyes on hers as she chewed. “It’s … different.”
“Nice?”
“Great.”
He regarded the flush in her cheeks before returning to his masterpiece. He toasted one side of the bread before adding cheese and pressing them together to toast the other side. Josh kept Rosie in his peripheral view. She took a long swig from her glass, watching him over the rim. He looked at her unable to keep the slight smile off his mouth as he did.
“I thought your house was a mess.”
He scoffed. “You haven’t seen it yet. I have done these rooms so far, and mine. You can take my room. I’ll take the couch.”
“What? No. I couldn’t.”
Josh nodded while flipping the sandwich under the grill. “I insist.”
“Josh …”
“My house, my rules.”
“Oh that’s how it is?”
“Yep, bossy boyfriend role.”
When the sandwiches were made, Josh plated hers up first and handed it to her. He topped up her glass too and his own which he had been sipping away at as he prepared the food. Josh watched her as she lifted her sandwich up. “Smells so good,” she said, her voice soft.
“Try it.”
She picked it up like fine china and bit into it so daintily. “Oh my god,” she gushed around the food. “Shit, sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“You don’t like it?”
“Don’t like it? I've never tasted anything so great. New house rule. You cook.”
“Is that right?” Joy bubbled in his stomach to hear that. Nobody had really eaten his attempts at food, and to have her love it was probably far more amazing than it needed to be.
She took another bite, closing her eyes as she chewed and hhmmmd out her enjoyment of it. “God yes,” she said.
“Well I have to say this is my first.”
“First?”
He grinned with naughty mischief. “Foodgasm.”
She busted out laughing, spitting food all into her hand. “Josh,” she scolded. “You’re a…” she started coughing in her food, laughing and coughing all at the same time.
Josh grabbed a paper towel before she spat her food everywhere. He handed it to her and she wiped her mouth.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she eyed him as he folded another. “That was your fault.”
“You missed a bit,” he said reaching across to wipe around her mouth. Without even thinking, he reached around her neck, hands pressed to her warm skin, igniting feelings inside him. He wanted to lean down and kiss her suddenly.
“The food is …” she flustered, and he realised he was towering there like a man with a fetish for cleaning lips.
He stepped back and took hold of his drink and knocked it back with loud gulps. It made his head swim a little. “I’m glad you like it. Do you need to borrow a shirt or something to sleep in?”
“Oh god.” Her eyes went wide. “I totally forgot about getting anything to wear.”
“It’s okay.” He went to the basket of folded washing near the back door. He took the top shirt off and opened it. “Will this do?”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s just a shirt.” Just a shirt. That she would be wearing … in his bed …
“Do you mind if I go and wash up? I think the wine has gone a little to my head.”
“I don’t mind at all. I am pretty tired myself.” He put on a stretching show and she smiled. “Tomorrow, we begin getting ready for the big invasion.”
“How could I forget?”
Josh showed her to the bathroom upstairs. “Washcloths and towels are here,” he indicated to the little cabinet “I’ve yet to restock properly, toiletries don’t make the top of the list. I use the liquid soap for every manner of washing. Ignore the broken mirror. Not had time to fix that yet.” He found an unused toothbrush. “Ah, still in the pack.” He handed it to her.
“Gosh, thank you. That’s one thing I have. I carry it with me. In a plastic holder,” she added, like he’d think
she crammed it in her purse.
He demonstrated the hot and cold taps, then made his way to the door so she could carry on. “I’ll be readying my room. Your room. For you. I’ll take the couch.”
He let out a breath when he finally closed the door. He’d not been this nervous since he’d stood up to his mother that first time. Safe in his room, he looked around. There wasn’t much there. Everything was still in boxes really. He’d never quite committed to moving back into this place. A few minutes later, he heard the creak of the bathroom door and popped his head out of the room. Rosie stood there, wearing only his shirt. Her slender legs bare. She had washed away the little make-up she had worn, but shit, it made her even more beautiful.
“You can sleep in here tonight,” He realised that was probably the fifth time he’d told her that.
She padded across the hallway to him and peered in. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
For an awkward moment, they stood there, looking at each other. Should he kiss her? Hug her? Shake her hand? … Shake her hand ... God, what a total tool.
His body decided to reach down and grab her hand. He leaned down to her face and paused, smelling her. Breathing in her sweet perfection. “Goodnight, Rosie,” he said, his mouth hovering just above hers.
Her eyes searched his, her breath light against his lips. “Goodnight, Josh,” she whispered back. She leaned in at the exact second stupid chicken shit Josh moved his lips to her forehead for a light, fatherly kiss.
“I’m just downstairs if you need me.” He let go of her hand. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look back as he walked down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom, leaning against the wall and listening as she closed his bedroom door, shutting him out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rosie
Ugh. Rosie plopped onto the bed, holding her midsection tight. He was about to kiss her. Why had he stopped? She put her hand in front of her mouth and puffed a few times, trying to smell her breath. She’d just brushed her teeth. Maybe it was the wine on her breath mixed with the mint. Like … icy … rotten grapes.
She replayed the almost kiss in her mind, closing her eyes. His brows had drawn in concentration; she would have guaranteed he was about to plant one on her mouth. God, why? She flopped back onto the bed, feeling the rush of emotions buzzing inside her. Fear, excitement … She slowly pulled her hands up her body and pressed them to the desperate beat of her yearning heart. Could this really be happening? Was she really at his house? Was she really in his room? He’d given her his bed. She was wearing his clothes. Eeeek!
Giggles of joy burst out, and she flopped over onto her stomach and put her nose into the blanket. Oh God she could smell his cologne. She began sniffing around the bed like a bloodhound, screaming when a knock sounded on the door.
Shit. “Yes?” she called.
“I … have your phone here. Thought you might need it?”
“Oh.” She hurried to the door, her heart a nauseating burst of flutters. Opening it, she stared at the extended phone, then up at him, as she took it. Alarm hit her at the look on his face. What on earth was he seeing to cause such a worried expression? She reached up and passed her hand over her hair, pushing a little behind her ear. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Is … the bed to your liking?” he asked.
“Oh God, of course.” She waved a hand, breathless. “Smells great.” Oh God, shit. “What kind of detergent do you use?” she tossed a thumb behind her.
“Oh,” he licked his lips, and her eyes zeroed in on the shine. He was staring at her again, smiling. Hell, he’d answered her, and she’d not heard.
“Right,” she nodded. “Don’t think I’ve heard of that. It’s a really great scent,” she nodded, cringing inside at his lowered grin. She’d said something stupid. Something that didn’t match.
“If you need anything, you can come get me. I mean get me to help.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and it was her turn to smile. He was nervous.
“I could call you,” she said, wagging her phone at him.
He laughed. “That might be the best idea. Wouldn’t want you to take a trip on the stairs at night. Oh, and watch out for Stiches. He likes to set traps on the stairs and scare the shit out of people.”
“Okay. Maybe I should bring Mr. Buckles and they could have a sleep over too.”
His grin was precious. “One puss … Yes, Stiches would like that I’m sure. He’s a bloody demon and needs a distraction that aren’t my feet.”
“I’ll bring Buckles tomorrow. What time do you want to get started?”
“Shall I wake you with breakfast in bed?” he asked, winking. “Like a proper boyfriend?”
Her eyes widened in giddy joy at the mention of boyfriend. She didn’t care if they were playing, it was more fun than she’d had in … ever. And she was pretty sure that sometimes he was being serious. God she hoped. “I could certainly get used to that.”
“Right,” he turned a little then faced her. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
She watched him head to the stairs before she shut the door. Turning off the light, she ran to his bed, bounding onto it like a child. She scooted under the blanket and covered her head, smiling with her phone clutched to her chest while breathing in the scent of him. She tried to imagine him in the bed. How did he sleep? On his back? His stomach? Was he a side sleeper? Her eyes popped open. Did he sleep … nude?
Heat surged through her, igniting the very core of her womanhood at the idea of visions of his naked body played in her naughty head. Her breaths heated up the air under the covers until she jerked the covers down for oxygen.
Her phone vibrated and she jerked it up. “William,” she whispered, fear clutching her chest. She pressed the button and put it to her ear. “William? Are you okay?”
“Hey Rosie.”
Her stomach jolted at the distant sound of his voice. “William?” She sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing Rosie, I just can’t sleep. I needed to hear you, that’s all. How’s my sunshine doing?”
Her body sagged. “Shit, you scared me,” she whispered, laying back down.
“Why are you scared?”
“I just … I worry about you.”
“Ah, Rosie. I missed you today.”
She smiled and turned on her side. “What did you do today?”
“More of the same. Getting my life cleaned up, a little bit at a time. But tell me about your day, Rosie.”
Her smile grew, and she drew her knees up, knocking them together. “I might be sleeping at his house.”
“His house? The guy you thought didn’t like you?”
“Yes,” she couldn’t help but squeal, ready to burst. “You were right William. He’d not thought any of that crazy stuff.”
“I told you, Rosie. How could he not like somebody as beautiful as you?”
“Stop,” she said, with a face breaking grin.
“So tell me about this bloke,” he said.
Rosie giggled and flopped to her stomach. “Well. He’s … oh God, he’s amazing,” she barely squeaked. “Sorry, I’m just way too happy.”
“You are?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“I am, if I’m right about him,” she said. “If I’m not, oh shit, William, I’m going to die.”
“No you won’t,” he said. “I’d never let that happen. I’m sure he’s not an idiot.”
“I think he wanted to kiss me,” she confessed, needing to tell somebody everything.
“He hasn’t kissed you yet?”
“I know. He was going to tonight and then didn’t. At least I think he was.”
“Okay, maybe he is an idiot.”
She laughed quietly and sighed. “So nice to hear your voice.”
“Is it?”
“It is. Tell me what you’ve been doing?”
“I don’t want to talk about me, Rosie.”
“Why? Are you su
re you’re okay?”
“I just want to talk about you. I promise to fill you in on all the boring details. Right now, I need to talk about you.”
“Why me?” she smiled, not sure why that made her happy. “My life isn’t exciting.”
“You’re exciting to me. When I hear your voice. It’s like a night light. It helps me to forget her.”
“Her?”
“My girlfriend.”
Rosie gasped. “You have a girlfriend? Had?”
“Have, had,” he muttered. “She isn’t really into me, Rosie.”
“What?” Rosie cried, a mixture of anger and something else hitting her. “What’s wrong with her?”
“More like, what’s right. She’s smart, that’s all. She sees what I am.”
“And what are you?” Rosie demanded, getting pissed.
“You know what I am too,” he said.
“I do, yes,” she said, nodding. “You’re a beautiful soul, a wonderful man. Stop talking this way, William.”
“Thank you Rosie,” he said softly. “Every night I can’t sleep because of her.”
“Why?” Rosie wasn’t sure she wanted to know but knew she needed to get him to talk.
“Because I want her so bad. My body aches for her.”
Rosie’s gaze narrowed at this news. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Strange, happy, sad. Annoyed? “Why can’t …” she remembered what he said, she didn’t want him. “Are you sure she doesn’t want you?”
“She’s with somebody, Rosie.”
“Oh William,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m happy for her. She deserves so much more than what I can give her.”
“Well, she’s stupid,” Rosie blurted.
“She’s not,” he mumbled flatly “She’s very smart.”
“Stop talking like that. She’s a … a stupid … bitch okay? There, I called her it. That’s what she is for not being with you and I won’t take it back.”
The sound of his low laughter filled her ear, mixing joy with the agony in her heart for him. “You always make me smile, Rosie.”
“You deserve to be happy, you know,” she insisted, feeling the worthlessness through the phone.
