by Sabre, Mason
He jerked his attention to the stove and turned the knob. “Chips and … damn near burnt fish,” he announced.
She was back too giddy now. “Well, I’m starving.”
“Good thing.” He wiped his hands on his chest, maybe a habit when he was trying to focus. “I made enough for a small army.” He took up the metal spatula and began dishing said food onto a platter layered with paper towels.
Rosie made her way to the small table and pulled the chair out then paused. “Should I get the drinks?”
“Sure. Just dig around. I’ve grocery shopped properly, so there’s plenty to choose from.
Rosie was already at the fridge. “Wow,” she gasped when she opened it. “You’ve got this baby packed!”
“You sound shocked.”
“Ohhh, orange juice,” she sang, working the carton out of the mini-food mall. “I just haven’t seen this much food in one spot.” She straightened with a happy smile and immediately realized. She sounded like a poor bum. “My uh … mom wasn’t a big food shopper.” She turned to the cabinet on her right and touched it. “Glasses?”
“There.” He pointed two doors down.
Rosie worked two red disposable cups from the bag.
“I need proper dishes.”
“Oh, I love disposable,” she said, dropping the entire bag. “Less mess I say.” She retrieved them and put them back.
“You can eat anything here, no need to ask,” he said lightly.
Rosie was back to embarrassed as she returned the cups to the cabinet. “Thank you,” she said, trying not to sound too grateful as she set the plastic china on the table. “My mom was very frugal. She only kept what she was going to be using that week in the fridge. Or day even. Sometimes.” She looked at the cabinets again and pointed. “Plates and silverware?”
“There,” he pointed to the opposite wall. “Silverware is in the drawer beneath. Royal plastic,” he warned.
“Plastic is wisdom’s finest china,” she said, feeling bad for lying to him. But she wasn’t about to tell him she’d been starving off and on since she’d arrived in The Mother Land.
“I plan to get proper everything,” he said, bringing the platter of food to the table. “So we eat lunch and tackle the garden?”
She nodded with a smile, watching him load her plate with food. “Oh that’s plenty,” she cried, laughing.
“You’re starving,” he reminded.
“I am,” she admitted, pulling the plate to her and bowing her head for a very quick prayer and zippity-doo sign of the cross that amounted to weird hand jive at her chest. “Sorry,” she said at seeing his raised brows. Imagining him not so impressed with her poor religious manners, she formed the sign slower before grabbing her plastic fork and digging into her food. As she fed her face with a shameless orgasmic intensity, she realized he’d not done the praying thing. It then dawned on her for the first time that he might not even be religious.
She watched him pour the juice into the cups and was suddenly dying of thirst. “My God this is amazing,” she cried around her stuffed mouth, putting a hand over it to hide any food hanging out.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling while eating at a sane, non-starved pace. She tried to slow down but her hand kept shovelling and her mouth kept opening. She managed to not guzzle her orange juice at least. It was so hard. She’d not had any that tasted that good in forever. The hospital’s brand tasted like one orange per gallon of water. But it was better than the zero oranges per gallon of water she had.
“Tonight, I’m cooking,” she said licking the grease from each of her fingers as he watched her. “What? People don’t lick their fingers here?”
“Not usually,” he chuckled.
“Well, when it’s good food, I do.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, lifting his napkin and dabbing at his mouth with his pinkie sticking up.
She stared for a few seconds in amusement before seeing the laughter in his eyes. “Oh lord!” she snickered and hit her hand on the table. “I was about to say.”
“What were you about to say?” he said, standing to gather their plates.
“Nothing, it’s a saying.”
“Say it,” he said, walking the plates over.
“No,” she laughed. “I mean I was about to say is the saying.”
He paused at the trash, turning a perplexed face to her. “You have a saying that is … I was about to say?”
She laughed and took their cups to the sink. “One of those things you don’t realize is stupid till you think about it.”
“As stupid as you washing throw-away cups. Bring those here.”
“Hey, these are good plastic cups,” she argued.
“Right. And I’ve got eight-eight more just like them.”
She brought them to the trash and tossed them. “You can wash the pot if you must wash something.”
“Is that how it works in England?” She turned on the sink on and washed her hands, eyeing him. “The husbands cook and the wives clean?”
He made his way over and she tensed with his every step. He stopped just before her and leaned his hip on the cabinet. “It’s however they want it,” he said, staring down at her with a small smile that said he liked the topic. “You tell me how you want it.”
Her heart hammered against her chest. “Well I hate cleaning.”
“You want to cook?”
She squinted a little, thinking. “Okay I hate doing dishes but don’t mind cleaning. And I like you cooking.”
“You like my cooking?”
She snickered at him. “I said I like you cooking.”
“You like me cooking,” he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.
She had the sense to shut the water off then had the nerve to face him, hip against the cabinet like him. “I do.”
“What do you like about me cooking?”
The soft challenge in his voice said he liked this game and wanted to keep playing. “I like … “Uh oh. Shit. “The way you look.”
“Is that right?” he said, his voice even softer as his eyes locked on her mouth.
Oh dear. Kiss. Kiss time, oh my God. His eyes rose to hers and she panicked. Had he asked a question? Is that right he’d said. She nodded, not chancing words.
“I wonder what you look like cleaning?”
He might as well have said I wonder what you look like cleaning while naked. That’s what her mind heard. Or body. “I guess I’ll have to show you.”
“I guess you will.” She swallowed at his tone, feeling a real heat between them, most of it coming from the spark in his blue eyes. “You ready?”
Ready? Now? “W-what do you want me to clean?”
The slow smile he gave made her legs weak. “The garden?”
The garden? The odd word threw her for two whole seconds before she remembered. The garden dumbass. “I’m ready, yep,” she said. “Was just thinking after the garden of course.” She turned and put her butt against the cabinet now. “My mother will be here— “
“In two days,” he finished.
“Right. Tight schedule,” she repeated.
“Yes. Very tight.”
She nodded and shoved off the counter, not able to meet the heated gaze accompanying his grin. He was bold, wasn’t he? Bolder than her. Boldly going where no man had dare to go before. The Rosie frontier.
Nobody snap or pinch her. She never wanted to wake up.
But somebody did snap and pinch her. William did. Right inside her chest.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Josh
Rosie skipped outside ahead of Josh. Shit. He could watch her do that all day, the way she bounced with each step. She’d hop skip and jump right out of here if she knew the truth, though. His hand went absently to the gash on his arm. That was a close one … too close. Fucking William leaving marks and causing his shit, again.
The sunshine coming down was a gentle warmth against Josh’s face. He savoured it, inhaling deeply. It
tinged with the sweet scent of Rosie. She was ahead of him, spinning with her arms out, head back, and a lightness in her step as she did.
“Having fun?” he smiled. He couldn’t help it. She brought that out in him, even though the darkness clung onto his heart with lecherous claws set to destroy him … with Rosie, he could unpick them, and perhaps one day, heal the wounds in his bleeding heart … maybe.
She danced between the weeds and the tall grass. He’d given a lot of it a good whacking while she was at home packing, but this garden was going to take some time and hard work until it would resemble anything close to liveable; let alone be acceptable hosting grounds for the American royal family.
Rosie plucked one of the dandelion heads from the grass, and held it in front of her face. “My mother used to tell me off for doing this,” she said. “Said it would ruin her lawn. You’re supposed to make a wish on them. Do you believe that?” She offered the dandelion to Josh and rather than taking it, he cupped his hand around hers.
“Maybe we can make a wish together,” he offered. He didn’t believe so much in superstitious rubbish. He’d never blown dandelions to make wishes either, but he had kicked them. Knocking their seeds into the breeze. “What would you wish for?”
“To be happy,” she said lifting her eyes to his. God when she did that, he found it hard to fight the protective side of him that just wanted to scoop her up. “What would you wish for?”
“I have it already,” he said winking at her. “This pretend girlfriend I have.” He laughed at her when she looked up at him with such innocence and bewilderment in her gaze. God she was so perfect. “Maybe I’d wish she was really mine.”
Rosie’s cheeks flushed instantly. “Make a wish,” she said. “A real one.”
“That was a real one …”
When her gaze turned to fake annoyance he couldn’t help but laugh at her again. “Fine, fine.” He let go of her hand and plucked his own dandelion. “You first,” he said.
“Okay.” She closed her eyes and brought the seedling head just in front of her lips … soft, perfect warm lips … Then she opened her eyes and blew.
“You didn’t wish,” he said.
“I did. I did it in my head.”
Josh frowned. “Then, how can your wish come true?”
Rosie pushed Josh’s hand to his face with his own dandelion. “You’re not meant to say the wish out loud. It won’t come true.”
Josh leaned in, leaned right in so that his mouth was near her ear. “How can I make your wishes come true, if I don’t know what they are,” he whispered as close as he could get to her ear without actually touching her.
She let out a soft gasp that warmed Josh inside with victory. “Make your wish,” she said her voice breathier than before.
“Please, please Mr Dandelion …”
Rosie couldn’t help herself as she burst out laughing at him. “Mr Dandelion?”
“Of course. Do you know that dandelion means dent o lion or something like that? French for lion’s tooth.”
“Really?”
Josh nodded. “It also means piss-a-bed too.”
She smacked him on the arm, her eyes alight with laughter. “It does not.”
He laughed hard, rubbing his arm mockingly where she had hit him. “It does too. If you cook the roots you can make tea, and then it makes you pee.”
“Just make your wish Mr Know It All,” she said sternly. Though her expression was betraying the telling off she was trying to give him.
Josh raised the dandelion in front of his mouth and closed his eyes. “I wish ….” He opened one eye, looking down to Rosie and smirking. “Please Mr Dandelion make sure this crazy American doesn’t snore. Doesn’t steal all the blankets, and that she brings me fresh coffee in the morning.”
“Josh,” she exclaimed, smacking him again.
“Oh and please remove the violent streak that she has so been graced with.” He dodged out of the way before she could hit him again.
“I bet you want breakfast with that coffee, huh?”
“If you’re offering.” He blew hard against the dandelion and they both quietened for a moment as they watched the fairy like seeds float into the air. A sense of wonder—a life in them as they spread themselves out and carried their wishes to faraway places. Maybe one day Rosie would find her wishes, but Josh was sure that he had found his. The thought of it made his stomach clench. She would leave one day … she would leave William. That’s why he had to get rid of him. “You know if you keep hitting me, I’m going to end up covered in bruises.”
“If you didn’t keep teasing me, I wouldn’t have to hit you.” She pursed her lips, hands on her hips. It just made him laugh more at her.
“You're real cute you know, when you try to be mad.” His phone vibrated in his pocket at that moment, making them both jump. For a second Josh stared like he wasn’t sure what it was as the sound played louder. “Give me a second,” he said.
He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket. His heart sinking when he saw Maria’s name across the screen. Rosie was watching him. He thought about shutting the call off, but that wouldn’t work. The last time he had done that, she’d wound herself up so much that he’d had to go there and waste more time than she was worth.
“Give me a moment,” he said. “I just need to take this.”
“You didn’t come,” the voice on the other end of the phone shrilled at him, not giving him the chance to even say hello. “You said you were coming and you didn’t. I needed you. You didn’t come.”
Josh paced quickly away from Rosie, trying to put himself out of earshot from her. She’d be able to hear Maria’s screeching cries a mile away. “I came, but you were sleeping,” he lied. “You were sitting in your chair. I came in, but you didn’t wake up.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. Don’t you remember? You asked me what time it was.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. He hadn't gone to see her. But she wouldn’t remember that. She didn’t know the difference between shit and chocolate if they came in the same wrapper.
“Oh”, she simply said at the end of a very long minute. “Will you come today? Please. I’m lonely.”
“I’m busy. I’m trying to do the garden.”
“You’ve got a woman there haven’t you? I knew it. What kind of little bitch is she?”
“Stop it.”
“I bet she is, isn’t she? You know what they are William. Some slut who’ll open her legs to you and then fuck off the moment your back’s turned.”
“She’s not like that.”
“There is a girl then,” Maria said victoriously. Shit. He’d bloody fallen for it again. She always did that. Baited him until he dropped himself in it. Rosie wasn’t a slut. She wasn’t that kind of girl, no matter what Maria thought. He was standing in the kitchen now. He could see Rosie from the window. She was picking up bits of wood that had tangled with the weeds where they had grown around broken bits of furniture, old bike parts. All the scraps of his life that he had thrown there. He watched her as she lifted something up, maybe it had been the door of something at one point. She held it at arm’s length and then she dropped it suddenly, running backwards and screaming at it. Spider perhaps. “William,” Maria yelled down the phone dragging him back to his misery. He realised that she had been calling him and he had been so tied in Rosie that he hadn't noticed.
“Sorry.”
“She’s there now isn’t she? Have you fucked her yet?”
“I have to go,” he said, turning his back to the window so that he didn’t defile the image of Rosie as Maria spoke her sick words to him.
“William … Don’t leave me. She doesn’t want you. You know she doesn’t. I want you.”
Josh hung his head, his shoulders sinking with every moment he stayed on the phone with Maria. She was his darkness and Rosie was his light, yet Maria kept pulling him back, no matter how much he fought. She pulled William up like a rotting corpse that she
couldn’t let lie.
“You know I am the one who is always here,” she crooned. “You know I will never leave you. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said weakly, giving up for a moment. Maybe she was right.
“Come and see me William. I miss you.”
“I’ll come by later. I’m working on the garden.”
“Bring me some ice cream. You know the one I like. I …” she paused. He could hear her breathing down the line so he knew she was still there. “The special one.”
“Okay. I’ve got to go,” he said and then he hung up on her. She’d be pissed at that maybe, but she could console herself that he would go there later … much later. Maybe Rosie had work. He hadn't really asked her when her next shift was.
He turned back so that he could see her through the window. She was looking at him as he did. She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and when she caught his eye, she smiled and waved at him. He smiled back, but it wasn’t like before. His smile had been spoiled by Maria, her words germinating in his mind the way she always managed to get them. Under his skin … all the goddamn time.
He let himself stand for a moment, just watching as Rosie went back to work. She had defeated whatever it was that had made her jump back. She had made a neat pile of debris on the path. He took a deep breath and went back outside, slipping the Josh mask on as best he could, but fucking William, he was there, worming his way in, again.
“Everything okay?” Rosie asked when he came closer. She had dirt and mud across her face and he couldn’t help himself. He needed to touch her, just a moment.
“You’ve got dirt here,” he said lifting his hand, but she dodged him and went to wipe her cheek, missing. “Let me,” he said. He ran a thumb across the smear of muck. Touching her, sending electricity up his hand. He snatched his hand back. He wanted to cup her face, bring her to him, but Maria’s words echoed in his mind. Slut. She’d leave … “I have to go out later,” he said. “Do you work tonight?”
“I … erm.” She moved away from his hand. He’d upset her. He was always screwing this shit up. “I called in work and took a couple of days.” She shrugged. “It’s mostly volunteer work. You want me to go out or something?”
