by Lucy Kevin
“Are you sure you don’t want to try the rose ceremony?” he asked one more time. “It seems to me that it would be so perfect for you, Rose. For who you really are.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
A flare of anger at just how wrong she was, had him quickly coming back with, “Well then, tomorrow we should do some research. You know, so that I can actually be a help to you, rather than just guessing about what you’d want.”
“Research?” Rose asked. She sounded suspicious now, but RJ wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
“We both agree that it’s vitally important for a bride’s wedding to reflect her true self, and you don’t think I’ve got it so far?”
Rose hesitated, then shook her head.
“So tomorrow,” RJ continued, “why don’t you take me somewhere that will show who you really are? Somewhere that will give me plenty of inspiration for your wedding day.”
Rose paused. “I don’t know, RJ. I have so much to do now with helping Phoebe, Julie and Tyce.”
“They’re total pros and you know they can deal with any problems they run into. But I might not be able to produce the perfect wedding setup for you without your help. I mean, look at my first two attempts.”
“I guess,” Rose said slowly, “that makes sense.”
Tomorrow morning, he’d let Rose hold the reins, but in the afternoon, RJ vowed that he was going to finally get a chance to show Rose who he thought she was.
And maybe, just maybe, that version would include her loving him the way he’d always loved her.
Chapter Eight
Rose was in the chalet the next morning looking at a drawing for a new flower arrangement when RJ walked in and she completely lost track of her train of thought.
“Are you ready to go, Rose?”
There was part of her that wanted to find an excuse not to do this. It wasn’t like they could afford the time away from the wedding preparations, and the thought of spending the day with RJ was…well, actually, it felt pretty good.
Which was exactly the problem. Being with RJ shouldn’t be so good all the time.
Even so, she’d given him her word. And she never went back on her word.
When they went out to his truck, he asked, “So, where are we headed so I can learn who the real Rose Martin is?”
She gave him directions and he drove without asking any other questions. Apparently, he was willing to be surprised, and she was happy to sit with him in comfortable silence.
With Donovan, she’d have found something to talk about, even if it was just some story about the internal politics of the plastic surgery world. Comfortable wasn’t a word she’d ever use to describe Donovan. Dangerous wasn’t either.
How, she found herself wondering, could RJ be both comforting and dangerous at the same time?
It was another five minutes before they reached the gallery. RJ found a parking spot out on the street, looking up at the building as he did so. “This is the place that reflects the real you?” he asked with more than a little skepticism.
“Absolutely,” Rose replied. “Donovan took me here about a month ago. He knows the owner of the gallery. It’s very beautiful. Very refined. I’m sure we’ll be able to find lots of inspiration for the wedding inside.”
“Okay,” he said in an easy voice, “but I was hoping you’d take me somewhere that’s personal to you.”
“This is personal to me,” Rose insisted. “Well, for both Donovan and myself. It’s a place that we’ve spent time together.”
She could remember the first time she’d come to the gallery with Donovan during a private showing. Both the art and the customers had seemed so pristine and perfect, and at first she hadn’t felt like she fit in at all, almost as if everyone was speaking their own private language. Yet Donovan had slowly started to introduce her to people, the gallery’s owner had seemed nice, and Rose had gradually found herself feeling more and more at home.
If only she could make RJ understand…
Hold on. Why was it important that he understood? He just needed enough to be able to produce a workable wedding setup, she reminded herself. That was all.
They went inside, and RJ took a long look around at the pieces on display before turning to her. “So, which piece do you want to show me first?”
The artwork displayed was of many different styles, from jagged sculptures constructed from pieces of found metal, to paintings that were little more than blocks of color, and even a few fabric pieces that were as much simple design pieces as they were art. Rose waved RJ over to one of the closest sculptures, purely as a place to start.
“So,” he said, “why this one?”
“Well…” She tried to think of something she liked about this particular sculpture. “I like the way it takes ordinary objects and reuses them, along with the fact that it takes mundane things and makes them special.”
“Funny,” RJ said in a considering voice, “over the years we’ve worked together and have been friends, I’ve never seen you drawn to anything so cold and sharp.” Before she could interrupt him, he said, “You’ve always appreciated beauty, and softness, and things that make you laugh.”
Warmth at his words warred with the frustrated realization that he wasn’t giving her a chance to show him how she’d changed. But before she could explain herself any better, the gallery owner, Millicent Richards, moved to their side.
She was quite easy to recognize, thanks to outfits that were as much art installations as garments. Her features had the tight, symmetrical perfection that kept Donovan and the other plastic surgeons in his office booked solid.
“Hello, Millicent.” They air-kissed each other on both cheeks as if they were in Europe rather than San Francisco. “I’d love for you to meet RJ. We work together at the chalet. RJ, Millicent owns this gallery.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, RJ,” Millicent said, with an appreciative gleam in her eye for the good looking man standing before her. One bright enough that Rose felt a wave of possessiveness rush through her before she could stop it. “Can I help either of you find something today?”
Rose forced herself to smile at the other woman. “Actually, we’re here to get some last-minute inspiration for the wedding, as RJ is helping me put it all together.”
Millicent nodded as if it made perfect sense that they would have come to her gallery for inspiration. “Do let me know if I can help in any way. I’m very much looking forward to the wedding. You’re really very lucky to have captured Donovan McIntyre’s eye, as you know. All of the other girls in our circle are jealous beyond belief that he’s taken. Then again, the two of you really do make the perfect couple, with the way your coloring perfectly complements his. Well done, Rose.”
A potential customer caught Millicent’s eyes and she hurried off before Rose could insist that jealousy, “capturing,” and complementary coloring had nothing to do with her upcoming marriage to Donovan. She and Donovan were marrying one another because they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Why else would they build such a lovely home together, or make such an effort to ensure that their wedding was going to be absolutely perfect?
She tried to turn her focus back to looking through the pieces on display with RJ, but it wasn’t easy to do so when he was gazing at her with such intensity. It was almost as if he was trying to see all the way inside of her.
With a hand that she willed not to shake, she pointed out a delicately painted watercolor of a woman who looked formal and elegant. “That’s what I’m looking for,” she explained. “A sense of refinement and beauty for my big day. Does that make sense?”
“I’m starting to get the picture.”
They kept walking around the gallery, stopping in front of each of the pieces. Some were abstract, others were more classical. RJ kept asking her questions about her reactions to each piece.
It was actually a lot of fun, getting a chance to take the
morning off from wedding preparations. Even better, she had to think so hard about her reaction to each piece of art that she couldn’t spend every second rewinding back to the way they almost kissed on Sunday morning.
It had been one crazy moment, just as the previous Valentine’s in the bar had been. A temporary infatuation and nothing more.
Knowing it was best if they kept their focus on the wedding, she asked him whether it would be possible to create a Grecian feel for the Rose Chalet in the four days remaining.
“If that’s what you really want, I’ll find a way to do it.”
“That’s great,” she said. “I’m glad we did this.”
RJ smiled at her, and she worked to ignore the warmth that coursed through her as he said, “I am, too. It’s made things a lot clearer.”
Yes, it definitely had. Rose checked the time. “Why don’t we go get some lunch? There are some great little places nearby that Donovan has taken me to. My treat as a thank you for all this effort.”
“If you really want to thank me,” RJ suggested, “why don’t you spend a little more time with me after lunch? There’s somewhere I’d like to take you, actually.”
“Where?”
“That part’s a surprise. I think you’ll enjoy it, though, and it won’t keep you from heading back to the chalet for too much longer.”
She hesitated. There wasn’t much time left before the wedding, and there was still so much to do. But the only real reason she had for saying no was if she thought she couldn’t control herself around RJ.
A couple more hours with him was the perfect way to prove to both of them that she could.
She smiled at him. “You’re on.”
Chapter Nine
Lunch had been everything RJ would have expected after spending the morning at the pretentious gallery. It had been a fancy place where the other customers looked at him strangely for wearing jeans and boots. Clearly, in their world, men didn’t have jobs that involved getting their clothes dirty.
The food itself was a long way from the re-imagined simplicity that Julie and Andrew had been putting together for wedding clients at the chalet. Even Rose didn’t seem to be getting quite as much out of the meal as she wanted to pretend, and RJ was only too glad when they finally got going.
The timing, fortunately, was perfect for his part of their day’s plan. Neither of them spoke as he drove to the other side of the city. He loved how they didn’t always have to talk. He enjoyed joking around with Rose too, but being comfortable enough around one another to let things be quiet and still for a while was also special.
“Okay,” Rose said eventually, “enough mystery. Where are we going?”
RJ pointed to the sports field that was just coming up on the left of the truck. “We’re here.”
He found a spot to park and when they got out of the truck they were immediately surrounded by a small horde of kids who barely came up to their shoulders. They were all wearing identical baseball uniforms.
“Coach RJ!” one of them said. “Billy hit me in the head with a ball!”
“Let’s see if you’ve got a bump on your head.” RJ brushed the boy’s hair from his forehead. “Looks like you’ll live to play another game. I’m sure it was an accident, wasn’t it Billy?”
“It was! His head got in the way of the ball at the last second.”
RJ made sure not to laugh, or to even break into a grin, as he said, “Shake hands, both of you, and then we can practice a bit before the other team arrives and the game starts.”
They made their way over to the field and RJ set them off running some quick sprints to warm up.
When he turned to Rose, she was smiling. “So this is your Little League team? I always wondered if I’d ever get to see Coach RJ in action.”
He’d come by the field a couple of years ago to see if they needed some help re-seeding on the field, and when it turned out that the kids didn’t have a regular coach he’d stepped in. It was why he’d brought her here with him today, rather than dropping her off at the chalet first. He knew the only way he could get Rose to stop stressing out about her wedding was to get her involved in helping other people. After all, it was why she’d built the Rose Chalet; to give people one special, perfect day.
“How about being my official assistant coach for the afternoon?”
“Well,” she said with a slow smile that utterly transformed her face from pretty to stunning, “I have always been a bit of a baseball fan.”
The kids were done with their sprints by then, so RJ got them practicing throwing and fielding grounders while Rose threw a ball for one of the smallest, shyest boys to catch. She’d always been so good around kids. Yet he knew kids weren’t exactly on Donovan’s agenda, at least if the original specifications for the house his brother Patrick had designed for them were anything to go by.
The more time RJ spent with Rose, the less he could work out what she was doing with her fiancé. Judging by the art gallery earlier, Donovan seemed to see her more as an ongoing project to hone and refine, rather than simply as someone he loved. Though maybe given what he did for a living, that wasn’t so surprising.
RJ could see how happy she was as she declared each of the kids safe while they practiced sliding into home plate one after the other. Very quickly, she forgot her reservations and self-consciousness. And it was impossible to be elegant and restrained when running about after a bunch of kids, even in a nice blouse and skirt. Especially in those, because they showed the mud far more than dark jeans and a T-shirt would have.
After the other team arrived, they took their place on a set of old bleachers that held an assortment of parents and elder siblings who had come to watch the game. The field didn’t yet have a real dugout–RJ was working on the plans with the city to build one soon–so he usually either stood against the fence or sat in the front row of the bleachers to give instructions and encouragement to the kids.
Rose rubbed at a spot of mud on her skirt and RJ said, “I suppose I should have told you to wear jeans. That way it wouldn’t matter if you got them dirty.” He gestured to his own clothes, now every bit as muddy as Rose’s.
“And you,” she said with a wicked little spark in her eyes, “should have worn a baseball uniform.”
Hmm...was that her way of saying she would have liked to see him in the tight white pants and short-sleeved shirt?
RJ could see Rose continuing to relax minute by minute, play by play. Pretty soon, she was shouting out encouragement with everyone else. She even leapt up out of her seat when the parent who had volunteered to umpire called Billy out at first base.
“Out? He was not out!”
RJ grinned, then looked around for the ice cream seller who usually made it around while the games were going on. He spotted the man and touched Rose lightly on the shoulder.
“Want an ice cream?”
He’d half expected her to say no given that they’d only just had lunch together, but Rose nodded instead. “Why not? I’ll get them though. You need to be focusing on coaching your team to the win.”
She was right, and normally he never would have shifted focus from his team. But he had a reason for everything he was doing today. Including this.
“It’ll only take a minute, and anyway, I have you to fill in for me, don’t I?”
She looked a little panicked at that suggestion. “Me? I don’t know enough about baseball to coach your team while you’re off getting ice cream.”
“Maybe not, but you do know about keeping people organized. You’ll do fine,” RJ assured her. He headed over to the man with the ice cream cart and ordered two ice creams on a stick, one in the shape of Sponge Bob and the other in the shape of Spiderman, both with gum ball eyes. All the while, he kept an eye on both his team and Rose.
When he came back to the bleachers, she was busy giving encouragement to the next batter. “You can do this,” she assured the small boy. “You’re going to hit the ball so far that everyone on base will have time to sc
ore before the other team even gets to the ball.”
“But I’ve never hit a home run before,” the boy pointed out.
“Are you arguing with me, Michael?”
“No, Coach.”
The boy went out to the plate. The first pitch crept past his bat, and so did the second, but he knocked that third pitch right past the shortstop and into the outfield, where the left fielder let it pass right between his legs.
“Come on, Michael!” Rose yelled. “Run, run, run!”
“See? What did I tell you, you did just fine.” RJ handed her the ice cream. Sponge Bob’s face had started to melt off a bit, but it was still a big yellow square of ice cream on a stick.
Rose stared at it like there was still a part of her that wanted to complain that she didn’t eat food like that, but apparently that part was quickly overruled because she grabbed the ice cream and promptly licked off one of the bubble gum eyeballs.
“This is really fun,” Rose said. “I love how enthusiastic they all are,” Rose said, before jumping up out of her seat when another great hit landed in the outfield.
“It looks like they aren’t the only ones.”
She smiled at him. “Honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”
For RJ, though, the best part about the baseball game was just being next to her, close enough that he caught everything she called the umpire under her breath when she thought no one could hear.
It would have been so easy to reach out and touch her, if only that wouldn’t have risked ruining the whole day.
Until, a few second later when the game was tied and the tension on the bleachers had ratcheted up several degrees, Rose reached out and took RJ’s hand in hers. She held onto it while the last of their batters lined up at the plate. With a runner on third base and two outs, they needed a good clean hit to win the game, but right then, RJ could barely keep his focus on the game, could barely think about anything other than the feeling of Rose’s hand in his.
