A Ring for Rosie

by Maggie Wells

  “You were thinking six-foot rodent, weren’t you?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Most people.” He tossed off a nonchalant shrug. “But, I get a good number of accidental lookups.”

  “Aren’t you worried about legal trouble?”

  “My uncle is an attorney, and he tells me the most they may do is issue a cease and desist order. I do have a backup name if I am forced to rebrand.” He stretched his hands wide apart as if gesturing to a marquee. “Chuckie’s Fantastic Fondue.”

  “Good to have an ace in the hole.”

  A small commotion in the hallway outside of their dining nook distracted Charlie. Rosie took the opportunity to check her phone for messages. She had one text from Georgie: Relax, don’t let him ruin your evening.

  Rosie hadn’t replied. There was no need. She knew who ‘him’ was, and she knew no matter how charming Charlie may be, there was no way in hell she was ever going to get her head into this date. Grabbing her glass of wine again, she took a huge gulp. With a gasp, she the glass down on the table hard enough to slosh onto the tablecloth and to recapture Charlie’s full attention.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rosie shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s not you.”

  He eyed her skeptically. “I think you left off the last part.”

  “It is me. You know I think you’re great.” She stretched across the low table to take his hand. “My head is…elsewhere.”

  He flipped his hand over and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Do I need three guesses to figure out where it might be?”

  She shook her head. “I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I get past this?”

  “You’re not the idiot, he is. If he can’t see how great you are, then the man must not have a working brain cell in his head.”

  She sighed. “We have a consensus of opinion, but knowing I love a moron doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “No, I know it doesn’t.”

  “I’m really sorry, Charlie. I want to be here. I really do,” she assured him.

  The grim smile he gave her in return nearly broke her heart. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately, you don’t want to be here with me.”

  “Not true. I do want to be with you.”

  He held up a hand to stave off her protests. “I mean, I know I’m not your number one pick, and I understand,” he hurried to reassure her. “To be perfectly honest, you’re not my number one pick, either, but my number one picked somebody else.” He squeezed her hand again. “You don’t know how much I wish you were my number one pick.”

  “Oh, Charlie, how pathetic are we?”

  “I’d say we rate right up there,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “I bet there are others who are more pathetic, though. At least, I have to believe there are.”

  Rosie grinned. “Yeah, me, too.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened? What’s got you all worked up?”

  The gentleness in his tone almost made her want to cry. It definitely made her want to spill her guts. Abandoning her wineglass, she covered her face with both hands. “It’s confusing.”

  “What is?”

  “He is.” Rubbing her hands over her face, she fixed him with a helpless stare as she let them fall away. “He acted like he was about to kiss me today.” She frowned, surprised by her own hesitancy. “No, not acted like,” she corrected. “He did kiss me today. A real kiss. The kind I’ve dreamed about forever. And I stopped him.” She barked a laugh. “Can you believe I stopped him? For years and years I’ve been waiting for this man to want to kiss me the way he kissed me today.” All too aware she was rambling on, picking up speed like a runaway train, she stopped, drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly. “An actual kiss. And, oh…I made him stop.”

  “This happened today?”

  She nodded. “This morning.”

  “Where?”

  “In the kitchenette.”

  “The kitchenette?”

  “At work.” She gave her head a shake. “We were at work, and I went into the kitchenette to get coffee, and he came in there to talk to me. The next thing I know, he’s standing there kissing me. How unfair is that?”

  Charlie gave snort. “Unfair and also illegal.”

  “Well, I guess he felt pretty confident I wasn’t going to sue him.”

  Lifting his own glass, Charlie gazed into the liquid. “I don’t know, maybe you need to take him down a notch.”

  This time Rose couldn’t bite back her laugh of disbelief. “I’m not going to sue my bosses. You have no idea how much they’ve done for me.”

  “Right, but if one of them is making improper advances or makes you feel uncomfortable—”

  “Advances I not only wanted to welcome, but might have initiated if I weren’t so damn confused about what’s going on with him,” she interjected. “Us.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  She cut him off before he could go any further. “Charlie, he didn’t do anything I haven’t thought about him doing every night since I first laid eyes on him. I know, he knows… Hell, Mike, Colm, and their girlfriends all know.”

  “Doesn’t make it right,” he grumbled.

  “And I appreciate you rising to my defense.” Rosie reached across and gave his wrist a squeeze. “You’re a sweet guy.”

  “Oh boy.” He smirked. “Too bad everyone forgets I’m savory, too.” He signaled to their waiter to refill her wine glass. “Okay, you and I are both pathetic, but that’s not a fatal flaw. This may not be a love thing for either of us, but I do think we’ve made a good start on a friends thing.”

  Rosie beamed at him and lifted her glass for a toast. “An excellent start to a friendship.”

  He clinked his glass against hers, and they both took a sip of the excellent wine. When he set his glass down, he leveled her with a steady gaze. “Doesn’t mean we can’t turn this into a love thing for one of us.”

  She stared at him, puzzled by what he was getting at. “Come again?”

  Charlie paused as the waiter arranged the steaming pot of herb-laced Gruyère and a platter of meats and cheese to dip on the table. Once he disappeared, Charlie continued. “I’m saying…use me.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Rosie pinned him with a stare. “Why does this sound like something out of a romantic comedy?”

  He quirked an eyebrow right back at her. “Probably because we’re rehashing the plot of most romantic comedies?”

  Rosie laughed. “How would you know?”

  “I have a sister.”

  “Maybe I need something out of a novel. You know, all the best novels have lines like ‘use me’ or ‘take me’ in them.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Particularly the dirty ones.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  Rosie twirled her wineglass, watching the golden liquid slosh up the sides of the bowl. “What exactly do you mean by use you?”

  “Well, I don’t know this James guy, and he doesn’t know me, but he obviously doesn’t like what’s happening or not happening with you.” He shrugged. “We know nothing is happening with us, but he doesn’t.” He paused to let his insinuation sink in. “Let’s turn up the heat. Make him think there’s more going on, you know, with us.”

  “Oh, Charlie,” she sighed.

  He straightened and rolled his shoulders back. Spearing a piece of bread with his fondue fork, he dunked it into the pot of cheese and stirred. “Have you ever had fondue before?”

  “No.”

  “I like to think life is fondue. The most important thing to do is stir the pot occasionally.” He pinned her with a pointed look. “Makes all the good stuff rise to the top.”

  Chapter 9

  The bouquet was enormous. Every bit as ostentatious as a girl could ask for in a fake offering of adoration, and much more. The damn thing ate up one full third of T
rident Security’s reception desk, and Rosie couldn’t be more pleased.

  When she messaged Manuel through Mate.com to pile on the post-fake-date guilt, he confessed his ploy was to make Lina, the Leather and Lace lover, jealous. His message was apologetic enough Rosie felt comfortable asking him for restitution.

  And Manuel had delivered. Big time.

  He sent a splashy array of roses and lilies. The bouquet stomped all over the line of ‘I think I like you,’ but stopped shy of full-on funeral arrangement. And the best part: The enclosed message, filled with flowery declarations about her beauty and wit, was written in Spanish.

  She’d seen James give the arrangement the stink eye more than once, and she’d left the card on its plastic prongs. The scrap of paper called him the moment she stepped away from her desk. Given the snarl he’d worn when he realized the message was written in Spanish, she’d bet he’d be using an online translator before she even hit the salad bar.

  The phone rang and she pressed the button on her headset. “Trident Security, how may we help you?”

  “What did you do?” Georgie demanded without preamble.

  “Excuse me?” Rosie tried to be cool, but keeping the grin out of her voice proved impossible.

  “Mike tells me someone had a hundred bucks worth of flowers delivered this morning. Please tell me you did not send them to yourself.”

  “I did not send them to myself,” Rosie repeated dutifully.

  “Did Charlie send them?”

  Rosie cringed when she heard the expectant note in her friend’s voice. “No, Charlie didn’t send them.” She turned her back to James’s office door and cupped her hand around the mouthpiece so she wouldn’t be overheard. “I messaged Manuel, the jerk from the karaoke bar, and told him I thought he’d made a really slimy move. He felt really bad about using me to get this girlfriend back, I gave him an opportunity to make it up to me.”

  Georgie actually clapped her hands. “Oh, my God, you are a genius! Mike says the card is written in Spanish and making them all crazy. What did he say?”

  “Oh, some corny thing about being as beautiful as the rose and sweet as a lily,” Rosie answered, speaking low and soft into the receiver.

  “You know, James is totally going to Internet translate the card the minute you leave for lunch,” Georgie informed her.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “I amend my earlier statement. You are an evil genius.”

  “Thank you. I’m pretty proud of me, too.”

  “I have a fairly light day today. Any chance you can take a late lunch and go shopping? It will only make him crazier if you don’t leave the office until two,” she added with a gleeful laugh.

  “Sure, I can take a later lunch,” Rosie replied. “Hell, I can pretty much walk out of here whenever I feel the urge these days. They’re all circling me like I’m wearing a dynamite tiara.”

  “But you don’t walk out, and you won’t.”

  Rosie sighed. “No, but it’s nice to know I can make them dance if I want to. I’m enjoying having some power around here for once.”

  “To hear Mike, you’ve always had all the power around there,” Georgie commented. “I thought maybe we could go look for new dresses for Gerry’s campaign party.”

  Cheered by the prospect of a shopping opportunity and some time with her new friend, Rosie jumped at the offer. “Sure, shopping would be great.”

  “We may even be able to lure Monica away since the market should be closed by then,” Georgie mused. “I’ll text her and let her know. Where should we meet up?”

  Rosie blinked. She didn’t run in the same circles Georgie and her family did. She hadn’t the first idea where to go shopping for a dress for a post-campaign celebration. Georgie was a trust-fund girl with a successful business of her own, and Rosie certainly didn’t make the kind of salary a financial wiz like Monica did. Suddenly, the idea of shopping with these two women became intensely intimidating.

  Squaring her shoulders, she addressed the elephant in the room head-on. “I don’t have a lot of money to spend on a new dress,” she admitted, her tone firm but with only the barest note of apology. “If the two of you would like to go shopping, I’m happy to come along, but I’ll likely end up picking up something at H&M.”

  Georgie’s tinkling laugh echoed over the line. “Where did you think I was going to go? Oak Street?”

  “You could,” Rosie reminded her.

  “But I don’t. Drives my mother crazy.” Georgie gave a short laugh. “I hear there’re a couple of good consignment shops in Lincoln Park. We could we give them a try.”

  “I’ve never shopped consignment before,” Rosie admitted.

  Georgie laughed. “Neither have I, unless you count Goodwill or the Salvation Army as consignment.”

  “I think those are considered more along the lines of castoffs than consignment.”

  “I’ll text Monica and tell her we’re going to hit the consignment places over a late lunch. We might as well check them out. If we strike out, we can always hit H&M later.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll send you the address and see you in a while.”

  “See you,” Rosie replied, then disconnected the call.

  Turning her attention back to the computer, she checked the day’s schedule, then rose from her chair. She waited in Mike’s open doorway until he looked up from his computer.

  “That was Georgie on the phone. She wants me to take a late lunch today so we can go shopping for dress for the Carson campaign party,” she informed him. “We might take longer than an hour, so if you don’t mind, I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

  Mike’s sandy eyebrows rose. She rarely asked for time off. He wasn’t about to decline the request, he was simply surprised.

  “Uh, sure,” he stammered. “Yeah, fine.”

  Unable to sustain his discomfiture, Rosie stepped into his office. “All the proposals are caught up, I sent the new contracts to Telcor, and I’ve entered all of James’s new prospects into the shared folder. I’ll have everything caught up before I leave.”

  “I had no doubt you would.” He looked up, his handsome face a mask of worried sincerity. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Rosie.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not quitting, Mike. I’m taking the afternoon off to go shopping with your girlfriend. And probably Monica, too. You know, technically, this party could be considered a work function.” She fixed him with a challenging stare. “Would you like me to expense my dress?” she asked, all innocence.

  Mike jerked in his chair. “Um, yeah, you could…”

  Rosie immediately felt bad for yanking his chain. “Mike, I was kidding,” she said, a tad too sharply. “Would you stop acting like I’m about to combust?”

  He rubbed his hand across his brow. “I’m sorry. Things have been…weird. Life always gets weird when Megan is around.”

  Raising an inquiring eyebrow, Rosie asked, “Is James bringing Megan to the campaign celebration?”

  Mike reared back as if she’d asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “What? No. Why would he?”

  “Because she’s living with him,” Rosie replied with exaggerated equanimity. “Seems natural.”

  “Trust me, there is nothing natural about their situation.”

  She tipped her chin up. “I was going to bring Charlie as my date, but unfortunately he has to work.”

  “How are things going with Charlie?” he asked, his tone too eager.

  Rosie couldn’t string a guy as nice as Mike along any more than she could Charlie himself. “I think Charlie and I have agreed we’re better as friends,” she began slowly. “He’s still reeling from the situation with his ex, and I’m…not really into him.”

  Mike’s face fell. “Really? I know Georgie was really betting on you two.”

 
Rosie shrugged. “I know, but Charlie and I agreed things are not going to pan out.”

  “Are you bringing someone else?” he asked cautiously.

  “Yes. Luckily, Devin is available. I’ll be bringing him.”

  “This Devin guy is the attorney you had dinner with, right? The one who let you take the bus home?”

  Rosie nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, but he didn’t know I was taking the bus. His Ryde car showed up before mine.”

  “You never use Ryde.”

  “He didn’t know.” She leaned against the doorjamb, settling in for the conversation. “I promise, he’s not a jerk who made me ride the bus. I’m a sneaky date who does what she damn well pleases.”

  “God, you’re a pain,” he grumbled as he shuffled some papers into a folder.

  “I love you, too.”

  Mike looked up. “Other than being a dupe, this Devin is a nice guy?”

  “Yeah, he practices family law. He does a lot of work with single mothers and families with special needs kids.”

  “Sounds like a saint.”

  Rosie chuckled. “He’s really a good guy in a yuppie-slash-overachiever sort of way.” She narrowed her eyes. “What do we call those kinds of guys now? They aren’t yuppies anymore, and he’s certainly not a hipster.”

  “When I was young and single, we called them assholes,” Mike offered.

  Rosie laughed, as always, tickled when the most buttoned up of the trio let loose with something surprising. “You’re still young and technically still single,” she reminded him.

  “Colm told me I couldn’t do anything until after he proposed to Monica.”

  Rosie clapped her hands together, feeling as excited as a child on Christmas morning. “But you plan to, right?”

  “As soon as I get the go-ahead from the boss man,” Mike assured her.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Quite the turnaround for you, Mr. I’m-not-ready-to-talk-about-it.”