by Erika Kelly
She was part of the royal family. She needed to live in St. Christophe.
Their obstacles seemed insurmountable, but nothing was impossible. Not when you wanted something badly enough. He twisted around, seeking her out in the mass of bodies dancing to the country rock song. When you needed something. Someone.
Her.
“She’s something, right?”
Brodie jerked away from the voice in his ear. Fucking Marcel stood there, but where he’d expected to see a smug expression, instead he found sincerity. He ignored the douchenozzle and raised a finger to the bartender. The guy gave him a chin nod in acknowledgement.
“Looks like she’s having a nice time out here,” Marcel said.
“It’d be even better for her if you left.”
“She’s my fiancée. Where else would I be?”
“You can cut the shit. I know the story. And, before you get all pissy, she only talked to me because she knows I’ve got her back.”
“Do you, though?”
Brodie stepped closer to the guy. “Not an easy concept for you to grasp, but some of us can be trusted.”
The man looked almost as offended as embarrassed. “Don’t presume to understand our situation. I never stopped caring about her. I just got…restless. When we were at university at the same time, I didn’t notice it as much. But, then, she was away another three years in perfume school, and I was back home and…” He let out a rough exhalation. “I don’t know. Something changed for her in perfume school.”
“Yeah, she found her passion.” Brodie’s tone held contempt for the man she’d known all her life but who didn’t get her at all.
“Up until then, she was my constant companion. We did everything together, texted all the time. But for those three years...”
“She didn’t pay enough attention to you. Got it.” Brodie caught the guy’s surprise at being cut off so abruptly. “Look, man, whatever result you’re hoping for, you’re going about it the wrong way. If you’ve got a hope in hell of winning her back, you have to give her the space she asked for.” But, just to say, you don’t. Not a single chance in hell.
“I can’t go until I talk to her.”
Is that what your daddy told you to do? “You mean convince her. But I’m telling you, you’re just pushing her away by being here. If you push her too far…”
Marcel’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but we will marry. Her parents are just giving her time to come to terms with what happened.”
The bartender appeared just then to take his order. “Hey, can I get a club soda and lime?” Brodie said. Then, he looked to Marcel, who raised a hand and shook his head. No, thanks.
Done talking to the douchenozzle, Brodie turned away to wait for his drink. He wanted to pull off nonchalant, but inside he wasn’t doing so well. Maybe it was the fact that Marcel wasn’t acting high and mighty. Wasn’t trying to play him.
He was stating a fact. Rosalina and Marcel would, eventually, marry. Her time in Calamity was an aberration.
He’d thought they’d come up with the perfect solution, but a royal wedding? The pomp and circumstance surrounding it, the barrage of photographs and articles, the joy pumping through society at the anticipation of the big day? As far as optics, founding a university didn’t come close.
So, then, were her parents humoring her?
Jesus, they couldn’t make her marry this guy, could they?
He didn’t know them, but he did know the lengths people would go to get what they wanted. His mother was a great example. She’d used her own children. When it hadn’t worked, she’d discarded them.
The bartender set his drink down and brought a glass of ice water for Marcel.
Distracted, Marcel barely spared him a glance. He leaned closer to Brodie. “I understand what she’s doing. I deserve it. And I actually think it’s good she’s getting this out of her system. I don’t think she realized before what it meant to be with one person for her entire life.”
Brodie had heard enough. “I don’t usually give advice, mostly because I don’t give a fuck what other people do. You make your bed, you lay in it. But this involves Rosalina, so listen to me good. You care about her at all, you let her go. She’s so much better than you, she’s not even in the same universe. So, no matter what you think needs to happen, it’s not going to. You did her a favor. You set her free. Now back the fuck off.” He dropped a twenty on the damp counter, grabbed his drink, and headed back to the table.
He believed everything he’d said, but…we’re talking about the prince and princess of St. Christophe hanging onto the monarchy.
Which meant, no matter what they felt about each other, Brodie might never be anything more than a vacation hookup.
He had a problem. A big one. But if he was the “visionary” his family thought he was, he’d come up with a solution.
Because he wasn’t going to lose her.
He’d found someone worth fighting for.
While the two women talked, Brodie pulled the jars and bottles out of the boxes and set them on the outdoor table.
I could get used to this. Before, the daily routine of living with someone had seemed like a nightmare, but with Rosie…he liked the constant sense of anticipation.
He found himself waiting to eat so they could share a meal together, looked forward to the end of the day when they took a long walk and caught up with each other. He thought of last night, brushing their teeth in the bathroom and talking. Seemed they never ran out of things to say.
He’d always just done his thing, jumping from one project to the next, hanging out with whoever was in his sphere at the moment. Rosie was like the missing cord that connected him to the rest of the world.
A few weeks ago, he hadn’t been able to imagine being tied to one person. Now, he got a hit of anxiety every time he thought of living here without her.
Jinx stepped out onto the patio, shutting the French door behind him. He took in Sky and Rosie at a table cluttered with beers, guacamole, and chips. “Hope it’s okay if I let myself in.”
“Of course.” Rosie’s chair scraped on the slate, as she stood to greet him. “Thanks so much for meeting with us.”
Jinx went to the chair right next to Skylar. “Hey.” It was like he didn’t know how to greet her. His arms hung at his sides, filled with tension. “Sky.” Like he didn’t know whether to pat her, hug her, or shake her hand.
Brodie suspected the guy wanted to plant a hot one on her mouth.
“Jinx.” Skylar barely spared him a glance, but where she’d been relaxed a moment ago, now her shoulders hitched with tension.
“How’s that stall working out for you?” Brodie asked, if only to break through the awkwardness.
“It’s good. Got more business than I can handle.” The moment he dropped into a chair, Jinx reached for a chip and dragged it through the guacamole. “I don’t get why they want to stand there and watch me work, though. It’s not like I’m talking to them.”
“I’m over there every day to take pictures,” Skylar said. “And I can tell you, he’s by far the biggest attraction.”
The stark longing on Jinx’s expression made Brodie uncomfortable. “Well, you start with a blank slate, and while they stand there an image comes to life. It’s pretty fascinating, especially for someone like me who doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body.” The attention was making Jinx uncomfortable, so he turned the conversation to Rosie. “Hey, I got a message from our glass blower today. Her mom had a stroke, so she’s got to bail. Instead of leaving her stall empty, I thought we could use it to test our product.”
“That’s such a great idea,” Rosie said. “And that’s not something we need labels for, so we can do it right away. I can’t wait to see what people think.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, you guys have no idea what we’re talking about. We’ve got this new product.” She held up some mason jars. “One’s a body butter, and the other’s a lotion.” She twisted off the lid
s and handed them to their guests.
Sky spread some on the back of her hand. “Oh, that’s nice.”
Jinx took a quick sniff and handed it back.
“We’re making a luxury perfume and bath and body products to complement it,” Rosie said. “It’s going to be the signature scent of the hotel, so we’ll be using them for guest toiletries and the spa products. We’re hoping the guests like it enough to buy some in the store before they leave.”
“I love it,” Sky said. “Brilliant.”
“What’s my role in all this?” Jinx bit into another chip loaded with guacamole.
“We’re testing these containers.” Brodie showed them some perfume bottles and plastic jars. “But once we settle on packaging, we’re going to need labels.” He pointed to Jinx. “We need your art.”
“I put together this photo album to give you a feel for what we’re going for.” Rosie pushed the book toward them. “Just some concepts and colors I like.”
Jinx flipped through pages filled with photographs of the ranch’s historic outbuildings and meadows, along with images of the original ghost town. She even had paint chips to give an idea of color scheme. “I’m not a graphic designer.”
“No, I know,” Rosie said. “But, the thing is, I’m leaving soon, and I’m trying to get everything set up before I go, and Sky says you’re an amazing artist, so we figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. We’ll pay you for it, of course.”
“You like my art?” Jinx asked Sky.
“I do.”
“Custom work on motorcycles isn’t—” Jinx began
“I’m not talking about motorcycles.” Sky shifted to face him. “Your mom tags you on social media. I’ve seen your real art.”
“Oh.” Color tinted his cheeks. “Cool. Still…I’m not a graphic artist.”
“You don’t need to be.” Sky rolled her eyes. “Okay, I know you’re hiring me to help with the marketing aspect of this, but how about if Jinx and I work on this together?”
“I’ll do it,” Jinx said.
Sky took the book from him, completely oblivious to the way he looked at her like she was gilded. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” She flipped through the pages.
“What do you want exactly?” Jinx asked. “Just a design for a label?”
“We’re going to need a label for the jars and another for the boxes,” Rosie said. “But you only have to come up with the drawing. The company that makes the labels will handle scale for each piece.”
“We’ll need shopping bags, too,” Brodie said.
“Yep.” Rosie looked to Jinx and Sky. “So, you’re both in?”
“Absolutely,” Sky said. “Sounds fun.”
“Oh, great. Thank you so much.” Rosie pushed back in her chair. “I love the idea of old barn wood for the interior walls, to give it a rustic feel. Maybe antique photographs. I can see dried sagebrush and wildflowers in clusters tied with ribbon. That kind of thing.”
“I can totally picture that store.” Sky grinned. “I love it.”
Rosie had some great ideas, and it killed Brodie to think she wouldn’t be here to put the place together herself. How could her parents snuff out this side of her?
He understood from an intellectual standpoint what they needed from her, but as a man of the west, a descendent of outlaws and mountain men, he just naturally thought outside the box. The idea of stifling someone, cutting them off at the knees…it just didn’t compute.
How could forcing this woman to get married be more powerful than establishing a university on Villeneuve land?
And, really, who did the people want leading the next generation? A dynamic businesswoman or a brood mare?
“Eventually, we’ll have soap, perfume, lip balm, and candles, too,” Rosie said. “But I can do everything else from home. I just want to get the basics set up here before I leave.”
“We can get on this right away.” Jinx got up. “Come on. I’ll buy you a burger and we can get started.”
“I have to get home to Rocco.” Sky’s tone said, You know that.
What was this weird tension between them? Jinx was obviously into her, so why did she keep throwing up roadblocks?
“Bring him,” Jinx said. “We’ll go to Shirley’s.”
Interest flared in her eyes. What kid didn’t want to eat dinner in a classic car from the Fifties, while watching a movie? The place was set up like a drive-in movie theatre, only indoors.
“That place sounds so fun,” Rosie said. “I haven’t been there yet. I’ll bet Rocco loves it.”
“He does.” Skylar gave Jinx a look that said, As you obviously know. “Sure. Let’s go. But I have to pick him up from my mom’s, so I’ll meet you there.” She snapped the photo album closed. “Can I take this with me?”
“Yep. I made it for you guys.”
“I’ll get us a table.” Jinx took off.
As Skylar fished her keys out of her tote, Rosie said, “Why are you so hard on him? He obviously likes you.”
“Because he wants to date me.” She said it like he’d asked if he could tie her up and stuff her in his trunk.
“What’s so bad about that?” Rosie laughed. “He seems like a great guy.”
“I have a three-year-old. I work full-time, while trying to be there for my son when he’s awake. I have no time—or interest—in a relationship right now.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a partner?” Rosie asked. “Someone to share your life with?”
There was no missing the longing in Sky’s eyes. Brodie had never seen that side of her. “Right now, I’m sharing my life with Rocco. But, if I ever do decide to date, it sure as hell won’t be a drifter.”
“I thought you said he’s been here a year.” Rosie looked to Brodie for confirmation.
Brodie nodded.
“And before that, he was flying around the country doing private custom jobs. He’s probably got itchy feet, dying to move on to the next job.”
“Or maybe he’s decided to put down roots,” Rosie said.
Skylar headed toward the French doors. “I’ll let some other woman be the test project. Jinx Costello is literally the last person I would ever date.”
“I don’t want to leave.” Having just come out of the bathroom, Rosie stood there in a sexy robe that ended at the tops of her thighs. Her hair dripped onto the silky fabric.
Brodie couldn’t take his eyes off her. I don’t want you to leave.
Behind every smile, every kiss, and every touch, lived the beating pulse of truth: this might be the last one. With the vote ten days away and the critical work done on their business, time was running out. “What if you went home for a while, put in some face time in your country, and then came back?”
“It doesn’t work like that. I’ve been away for seven years already. My parents can’t force me to marry a douchenozzle, but they will insist I take on my responsibilities. I have to start my philanthropy and get involved in others.”
“What about the marriage part? Isn’t the priority producing an heir?”
“Well, I’m not a genie.” In her agitation, the robe slipped off one shoulder. “I can’t snap my fingers and produce a future husband. So, the best thing I can do is jump into my life there. I’ll launch my project…create a life firmly rooted in St. Christophe. That’s all I can do at this point.” She dragged a comb through her hair, working through the tangles. Droplets splattered onto her bare shoulder, and he wanted to lick them off. “But first—before I do any of that—I’m going to open up my bath and body shop in the capital city of Villeneuve. I want to get it up and running.”
Otherwise, she’d never have a business. “And what if we’re so wildly successful we want to expand?”
Excitement shone in her eyes. Not a moment later, it died out. “Hold your horses, cowboy. One thing at a time. First, let me test our product today. See if they even like it.”
“They’ll like it.” But what he really meant was, they’ll like you. Everyone liked
her. She was open and honest, elegant, and yet down to party.
She watched him a moment, all of her certainty fading. “I know what I have to do—I’ve always known, and I’ve been fine with it. But that was before I came to Calamity. Something happened to me here. Well, you happened to me, and I feel like…I don’t know, like I’m twenty-five, and I’ve never met anyone like you, and I’m pretty sure I never will again, and how am I supposed to just get on a plane and leave you and have our only communication be about sales reports and ordering new pumps, when you’re the one I most want to talk to? You’re the one I want to brainstorm with. Your hands are the only ones I want on my body, your face the only one I want to see next to mine on my pillow.” She reached for him, clasping her hands behind his neck and sifting her fingers through his hair. “I’m not ready to leave you.”
Then don’t. He kissed her, and he lost himself in the wet heat of her mouth, the urgency of her grip. And, suddenly, it grew too much, the emotion too big, and he bent his knees, grabbed her ass, and lifted her, pressing her against the wall. “Don’t leave.” He kissed her earlobe. “I want us.” Licking down to her neck, he sucked the tender curve. “Rosie, you’re the one for me.” He knew it in his bones. Pressing kisses along her collarbone, he breathed in her fresh, sweet scent. “Give us a chance.”
Fingers tangled in his hair, she arched against him. “I can’t, Brodie. You know that. My life isn’t here.”
“It could be both places. We can do this however we want, whatever way it’ll work. Don’t leave me.”
“Oh, God. I don’t want to.”
He squeezed her ass with one hand, while the other shoved the robe aside to expose her breast. Cupping it, his tongue flicked over the nipple. “You think, now that I’ve found you, I’m going to just let you go? Not a fucking chance. You’re in me, sweetheart. It feels like you’ve always been there, like we just needed to get to this place, right here and now, for our paths to cross so we could find each other. But now that we have?” He tilted her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. “I will never stop wanting to be with you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Don’t you feel it?”
