by Erika Kelly
“When did you give up on her?”
“My eleventh birthday. I wore her down until she promised she’d come. My dad even showed me her airline ticket on his laptop.” She’s coming, son. And she’s got a big surprise for you. “Like an asshole, I got all geared up for it. Cleaned my room, made sure Marcella had the right kind of food in the fridge. Made my dad promise not to do the things that made my mom crazy.”
“Like what?” she said with a soft smile.
“Like hiding out in his office. I told him he couldn’t work while she was home. She always complained that he looked like Sasquatch, so I made him shave and laid out the clothes he could wear while she was in town. And he did it. Went along with everything. I had everything set up just how she’d like it.”
“And she didn’t come.” Her voice carried the weight of disgust. “Your mother sucks.”
“From the mouths of princesses…”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, I had it all wrong.”
“You had what wrong?”
“You. I thought you didn’t follow through because you’d had such enormous expectations for the Olympics, but it’s not that.”
“You still trying to figure me out?”
This time she didn’t smile. She grasped his hand. “It was your mom. You put yourself out there—begged her to love you, to be the mom you guys deserved—and she let you down.”
Her indignation poured like water on the dry, cracked patch of memories he’d long ago abandoned. He didn’t want to fertilize the old wounds, so he tried to pull his hand away.
But she wouldn’t let go. “You were a pure, innocent little boy, filled with love and kindness…and, as you Americans like to say, piss and vinegar.” She smiled. “And your mom crushed your spirit.”
No. No one had that much control over him. “I think I turned out okay.”
“You turned out great, but that doesn’t excuse her monstrous behavior towards her children. I feel like the one thing we all have in common is that none of us gets through life unscathed. No matter what circumstance we’re born into, life throws stuff at us, and it puts kinks in our souls.” She smoothed her hand on his forearm. “Your mother put a kink in your ability to trust people. I think she made it hard for you to put your whole heart into anything ever again, because it hurt too much to be let down.”
“Yeah, my mom’s a piece of work.” He wanted to deny it, wanted to punch the words right out of his brain, but Rosie was right. His mom might not have “crushed his spirit,” but she had shut down a whole side of him. “We were better off without her. We had my dad, my uncle, and Marcella—she runs the house and was, basically, our stand-in mom.”
“I’m glad you had her.”
“You done eating?”
“Oh, of course.” She got up and started gathering the take-away containers.
“Not rushing you. I want to take you somewhere.”
“Right now?”
“Yep.” Timing’s perfect. “By the time we reach the cliff, it’ll be dark, and you can see the valley all lit up.”
“I’d like that.”
Her phone rang, and he saw the name Marcel. “You gotta take that?”
“No.” She silenced it. “I’m on vacation from reality.”
Her words punched him in the gut.
For a moment there, he’d been lulled into that weird space with her, where he felt like…like they belonged together. Whatever that means. But she didn’t live here. Would never live here. In a few weeks, she’d go back to her country and resume her life as a princess.
Which was just the reminder he needed to focus on his own work.
It was past time to be the man who follows through.
“I think this is my favorite smell in the world.” She scanned the forest. “Pine and dusty earth, sage, and a hint of sweetness from the flowers.”
Brodie watched her profile, as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “What’s it like for you, as a perfumer? You must notice every smell out there.”
“I do. In perfume school, we had to memorize five hundred scents. Three hundred and fifty are synthetic, and the other hundred and fifty are natural. So, yes, I am trained to pick up everything.”
“And what do you smell right now?”
“Well, in this mountain perfume, the first thing that hits my nose is sage. That’s the top note. The heart—that’s the middle note, the foundation of the scent—is the wildflowers, whatever deliciously manly soap you use, and something that’s just unique to you. I’ve noticed it before, and it…I don’t know how to describe it, but it just connects with me on the deepest level. Gets me all stirred up.”
“Rosie…” His tone held warning.
“What? You asked what I smell.”
“I didn’t ask if it turned you on.”
“Sorry if you can’t handle our ‘chemistry.’” Grinning, she gave him a little shove.
Why did he find this woman so adorable? “You know, you’re awfully fancy for a science geek.” Her complexity was so much of her appeal. On the surface, she was stunningly beautiful, elegant, and refined, and yet underneath she had an insatiable curiosity, an unexpected awkwardness in social situations, and a mind that fired on all cylinders twenty-four seven.
Sometimes he felt so damn lucky that she’d stumbled into his life.
“Aw. You’re such a lady’s man. You always know just what to say.”
At the bend in the road of the Bowie Pass, he led her to the vista that looked out over Jackson Hole. They’d timed it just right, as the sun was about to slip behind the Gros Ventres Mountains to the east. At the edge of the cliff, she stood right beside him, slipping her arm through his, as easily as if she’d done it a hundred times.
And in this private, quiet moment, just the two of them, it almost felt like she had.
“This is gorgeous.” Her voice came out a whisper of awe. “Thank you, Brodie. For the best day I’ve had in forever.”
His heart lurched and started beating too fast—like he’d just tripped on the stairs. It almost felt like a panic attack. It wasn’t, of course. Everything’s fine. And, yet, he couldn’t catch his breath.
“Figured you could use a day of fun. Soon as your stuff gets here, you’re going to be busy. We’ve got a lot to get done in a short amount of time.”
When she pulled her arm away, he regretted sounding so cold and…gruff.
Fuck that. He wasn’t sorry at all. This chumminess was just another way to avoid focusing on what mattered. Like Owl Hoot. Instead of putting together his proposal for the board members, he’d spent the day with Rosie.
“Besides, I’m going away this weekend.” The words came out fast and hard, like he was hacking them up. But he didn’t have a choice. They couldn’t keep doing this, acting like they were dating.
“You are? Where are you going?”
“Vanessa and I are going away.” She’d called him last night to let him know about a house she’d heard about, made entirely from renewable materials. Said she was glad he’d postponed the build because she wanted to take a look at it this weekend. He’d told her he couldn’t go, but that was because Rosie had just gotten back from St. Christophe, and he’d wanted to be with her.
But it has to stop. “To Bozeman. There’s a house she wants to show me.” But instead of feeling right about his decision, he felt uneasy. Ever since the princess had come into his life, he hadn’t felt right in his own skin.
All the more reason to go away with Vanessa. He felt like himself around her.
“That sounds wonderful.” She sounded sad, and that made him feel like shit. Wandering away from him, she reached down to pick up a pine cone.
He wished he hadn’t hurt her, but…come on. They had to stop this game, the push-pull of attraction they’d both agreed they wouldn’t act on.
So, no, he’d done the right thing. For both of them. She’d figure that out.
Lifting the pine cone to her nose, she inhaled. “It actu
ally works out great for me.” She shot him a look. “Since I’ve got a date with a hot cowboy tomorrow night.”
Chapter Fourteen
This is my happy place.
For the base note, Rosalina added vanilla extract. Hm, what else? She reached for the ylang ylang oil and poured some in. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the combination…it wasn’t quite right, not full enough. Maybe she’d add lavender. She found the jar of essential oil and poured in the heart note, loving its soothing scent. Now, for the top note—
An image flew up in her mind, like a sudden rainstorm, splattering the windshield, blurring her view. Brodie and Vanessa. Laughing as they drove down the highway. The vision cut deep into her heart, the sting so painful she had to set down the jar.
Stop it.
He’s not yours.
He can never be yours.
She couldn’t live in Calamity, and no one as wild and rugged and free-spirited as Brodie could survive in St. Christophe as part of the royal family.
The reminder eased the pain. Focus on what you’re here for. Your business. Your joy. Okay, the top note. Neroli oil? But she pressed her hand to her heart, because words had no real power over her heart.
Is that what Marcel felt for Fabiana?
Which made her wonder…what if she’d met Brodie in St. Christophe? If they’d worked together on a business at home, would she have felt this same wild attraction? Would she have snuck into closets for make-out sessions?
She’d never know. But one thing she knew for sure, Brodie would never sext with an engaged woman. He’d never let it get that far.
“Hello? Rosie?” Knox Holliday strode into the bunkhouse with her long, wavy hair and bright smile. Everything about the designer screamed flash, style, and confidence. “Am I too late?” She held out the dress from Pretty in Pink.
“Not at all.” Wait—what time is it? The smile fell away, as she glanced at the rooster clock over the sink. “I can’t believe I lost track of time.”
“Oooh, it smells so good in here,” another woman said. The vivacious blonde had been making goo-goo eyes in the bar at the oldest brother, Will. “What’cha got cooking?”
“Can we come in?” A third woman came in, the brunette who’d been cuddled up with the youngest brother.
“Please do.” She headed toward them with her hand out. “I’m Rosie. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“We’ve been dying to meet the woman who’s got Brodie’s attention,” the brunette said. “I’m Callie, and this is Delilah.”
She shook both their hands. “It’s lovely to meet you both, but I’m sorry to say, Brodie and I are just business partners.”
“Trust me when I say, you’re way more than that,” Delilah said.
“He’s letting you live here,” Callie said.
“He doesn’t let anyone into his lair,” Knox said.
“Well, he’s off on a romantic three-day weekend with his girlfriend, so maybe he’s changed.”
“If you mean Vanessa,” Callie said. “She’s his architect. And, as much as she’d like to be more, she’s not his girlfriend.”
That little tickle of hope? She crushed it under her heel. Because it didn’t matter what they felt for each other. She was on borrowed time here.
Would you listen to yourself? On borrowed time? God, her parents were fighting the battle of their lives, and she was wringing her hands over some guy.
You’re here to work, period.
“I’ll tell you how I know exactly what he thinks of her,” Callie said. “He didn’t invite her to Knox and Gray’s wedding.”
“I didn’t even know they were a thing,” Knox said.
“Uh, you’ve been a little preoccupied,” Delilah said. “She just launched her online wedding gown atelier. It’s a big deal.”
“I’ll bet. She made me the most gorgeous wedding gown I’ve ever seen.” And I won’t be wearing it. For the first time, she could honestly say she was over the shock of Marcel’s betrayal.
Which is pretty sad. But it did drive home how wrong the marriage would have been.
She took the pretty sundress from Knox. “Thank you for fixing this. I love it so much.”
“You want to try it on right now?” Knox asked. “What time’s your date getting here?”
“Oh, I’m meeting him in town. At Sweet Baby Jane’s Tavern.”
“That’s smart,” Delilah said. “You don’t want to be alone with him in the middle of nowhere.”
“Says the New Yorker,” Callie said. “Calamity’s super safe, but you’re right, it’s pretty isolated out here.”
“Also,” Rosalina said. “I don’t really know him. We didn’t talk much at the bar the other night.”
“Does Brodie know you’re going on a date tonight?” Callie asked.
“He does. And he doesn’t care because he’s driving to Bozeman, where he’ll check into his hotel room and get naked with his girlfriend.” The hanger perched on one finger, she headed off to her bedroom to try on the dress.
“Not his girlfriend,” Callie said in a sing-song voice.
Rosalina liked the sound of that.
Except, it didn’t really matter what he and Vanessa were to each other, did it? They’d still be having sex.
Probably having it right now. She’d seen the way Vanessa had her hands all over him, rubbing his back, digging into the pocket of his jeans. Her seduction game might’ve been a little forced, but it was strong.
Jealousy got a firm grip on her stomach and twisted.
Because no matter what box Brodie wanted to put Vanessa in, the woman was getting him all to herself for the whole weekend.
And Rosalina wanted that.
Too much.
“This is going to be so much fun.” Vanessa reached for his hand on the console. “I’m so happy to be away from work and all the distractions. Oh, did I tell about the Hanson project? I got it. I can’t believe it. Between the work for Owl Hoot, your house, and the Hanson’s place, I’m going to be able to go out on my own by my target date.”
Even though the boulevard was pretty empty at this hour, he pulled out his hand to grasp the wheel. “That’s great.”
“Dinner was fun. I haven’t been in Bozeman in ages, so I had to look up some restaurants. I think I picked a good one, don’t you?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road, but he felt her watching him. Wanting something from him. And it was tearing him up. “You picked well. Thank you for putting in the effort.”
Because he wasn’t thinking about Vanessa. He was thinking about Rosie. Not all of her supplies had come, so she’d continued working on other scents. He’d like to be there for that, see her process.
“Did you like your leg of lamb? You didn’t eat much. Which is totally not like you. You usually scarf down your meat, whatever I leave over, and then eye the plates on all the tables around us.”
No, I don’t. But whatever. She was trying to make conversation, keep things fun. It wasn’t her fault her forced cheer was wearing on him. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“I know you do. You usually only work on one thing at a time, but you’ve got so many balls in the air. Why don’t we put off the house? Get Owl Hoot squared away. Between the Outfitters and the triathlon, you’re not going to be able to think about anything else.”
Except Rosie. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Was she on her date right now? It was only six. As soon as they’d gotten into town, they’d checked into the hotel. Since he hadn’t wanted to be alone with Vanessa in a room that didn’t have much more than a king-size bed, they’d gone for an early dinner.
What would Rosie wear for her date? He thought about her hair, all mahogany and sleek. She was so regal…and yet she’d shredded on that glacier. He smiled at the memory.
“Look at that. I got an actual smile.” Vanessa nudged him. “So, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll put off the house while you focus on Owl Hoot. It won’t take you long to get things goin
g, and then you can hand it off to someone else, and we can get back to the house. It’ll give me time to look into eco-friendly materials.”
He didn’t like the way she took ownership of his plans. “You can do the research if you want, but I’m not committing to anything. The house isn’t a priority right now.”
“I know. That’s what I just said.” She tapped her fingers on her thigh in rhythm with the song playing softly on the radio. “You know, I love how intuitive you are. Where other people have to-do lists out the wazoo, you keep it all organized in your head. It’s like you’ve got the perfect executive assistant in your subconscious who delivers ideas at exactly the right moments.”
He cracked a grin. “That pretty much nails it.”
“See? I know you.” She rubbed his biceps. “So, what’s the top priority?”
“Getting this project launched with Rosie before she leaves.” Rosie. Fuck. His chest got tight, thinking of her getting ready for her date.
“Right, but that one’s mostly on her. I can set her up with a graphic artist to handle the packaging. One less thing for you to think about.” As he turned into the hotel parking lot, she leaned across the console and sifted her fingers through his hair. “I’m so glad we’re doing this, Brodie. Just the two of us. If we’d stayed in town, we wouldn’t be able to get away from work.”
But we haven’t gotten away from work. That’s all we talk about.
With Rosie, he talked about everything. Including the topics he’d always had on lock-down.
She removed her hand to unbuckle her seatbelt. “I’m glad we’re in early. We can just relax…get to the good stuff.”
“I’m using Jinx for the packaging, but thanks for the offer.” He’d said it to make a point—she was his architect., not his business or life partner. But, now that he’d said it out loud, he realized it was a good idea.
“Doesn’t Jinx do custom paint work for motorcycles?”
