by Erika Kelly
She thought she might, and it sent a thrill through her.
“So, don’t listen to anyone’s bullshit. Listen to me. You’re the only one that makes me wild, Rosie. The only woman I’ve ever wanted to be with.”
“I want to stay here. More than anything, I want to stay. But I just don’t see a way to do that.”
“I know.” He lowered his hips over hers. “Dammit, I know.” His mouth closed over hers, and he kissed with an urgency and passion that melted all the worry and anxiety out of her bones.
He kissed her so deeply and fiercely that she lost her sense of time and place, until she could feel her spirit merging with his. It was the most powerful, soul-shaking moment in her life.
“Need you. All of you.” She pushed him off to kick aside the blanket, so there was nothing between their bodies.
His mouth wandered to her neck, forming a neckless of kisses along her collarbone. “You’ve got all of me, sweetheart. Couldn’t hold back if I tried.”
She clutched his hard ass, sealing their bodies together. His cock, trapped between them, rubbed her clit, and an electric, searing sensation swept through her. “Inside. Now.”
“Fuck, princess.” His hips lifted, and he fisted his cock before lining himself up and thrusting hard.
Her whole body went incandescent, her bones buttery soft. Desire, so rich and pure, had her in its thrall. He slid a hand under her ass, lifting her, and the angle hit just right, making her arch off the mattress and cry out.
She’d never felt more alive, more sexual, and she needed more, deeper, harder.
Brodie nudged her, and it took a moment to break through the fog of lust to understand he wanted her to roll over. Another wave of desire crashed over her at the idea of him taking her from behind, and she flipped over, getting up on her elbows, and hiking her bottom up high for him.
“Oh, yeah, princess. So fucking hot.” Both hands gripped her ass, spreading her, and he slammed back inside.
Nothing had ever felt so good, her breasts bouncing, her hips slamming back against him. He drove into her, and she stretched her arms out in front of her, pressing her hands against the headboard.
The burn started in her core, a twisting, gathering, rising sensation of bliss, until it flashed out of control. He reached between her legs, found her clit, and the delicious shock of it had her arching like a cat. Pleasure rushed through her, making her body tingle and shudder. It was all so intense, she threw her head back and cried out his name.
And, then, she burst right out of her body, spiraling through a freefall that seemed to never end. A flurry of froth and bubbles exploded behind her eyelids, and she rode the wave until it crashed. Floating towards shore, she collapsed, spent, her body vibrating with satisfaction.
This man…he was everything she’d never known she wanted.
She had to make it work. Somehow, she had to find a way.
She couldn’t let him go.
Brodie stabbed a wooden stake into the ground.
Fucking Vanessa. Putting that crap in Rosie’s head. Well, words meant shit. He knew that from experience. He’d show his princess how much he wanted to be with her.
He’d make it possible.
Will took in the meadow. “This might even be better than the last one.”
“I think so, too.” Brodie had liked the first building site because it wasn’t too far from the highway. This one was set further back, but it had shade trees and a river crossing it, so that’d be cool. He could raise a family here.
Well, damn. He’d never imagined having kids before.
“You sure you want to do this?” Will examined the blueprint before driving a stake into the earth.
“What do you mean? You just said you like this site.”
“No, I do. It’s perfect. I meant adding a lab. You don’t think you’re jumping the gun?”
“Wherever she lives, she’ll need one.” Rosalina had shown him pictures of her laboratory back home, so he had some idea of the proportions.
“I was under the impression she can’t live here. Her life’s in St. Christophe.”
“It is, but that doesn’t mean she can’t spend time out here.” He reached for another stake. “All I know is that it can’t happen unless she can do her work here.”
“I don’t get it.” Even so, Will counted off the steps before jamming another stake into the ground. “This isn’t fucking Field of Dreams. If you build it, she will stay. Why not figure things out with her first before you build a lab?”
“What am I going to do? Just let her go home? Someone has to make a move. So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m showing her that, no matter what, we’re going to be together. Even if we have to have homes in both countries.”
“You’d move to Europe?”
The mid-morning sun slanted at just the right angle to make the snow at the top of the mountains sparkle. A hawk soared over head, and the wind carried the scent of pine and sage. He’d traveled the world, and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere but here. Not just for the natural beauty or the family he loved with all his heart, but for the spirit of the place. The freedom. “Sure.” I’ll go wherever she is.
“Really?” Will sounded shocked. “Don’t get me wrong. I can see what she means to you. And Rosie’s awesome, but she’s a princess.”
“They’re not like the British royal family. Not even close.”
“Still, her life’s a whole lot different from ours.”
He’d lose his freedom and his privacy. “I know that.” He’d miss out on the nieces and nephews sure to come in the next few years. Fuck. Agitated, he shot his brother a look. “I can’t just let her go.”
“Not saying otherwise. My point is that you should maybe hold off on building the lab until you see what happens.”
“And my point is that the only way it’s going to work is if we make it work. Would you have built Delilah a restaurant to make it possible for her to stay?”
Understanding settled on Will’s features. Smiling, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and gave him a shake. “Let’s build a fuckin’ lab.”
Immersed in luscious scents, Rosalina counted out another ten drops of essential oil into the melted soy wax. Thirty hadn’t created a strong enough effect, so she hoped forty would do the trick. They wouldn’t sell candles yet, but while waiting for her first shipment to come in from the production facility…why not get started on the other products?
When her phone trilled from the bedroom, she considered letting it go to voicemail but guilt got the better of her. It’s bad enough you asked for another week. At least be available to your family if they call.
Setting the jar down, she wiped her hands on a towel and hurried out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. Sure enough, her mother’s name lit up the screen. “Morning, Mama.”
In the full second of silence, Rosie caught the faint shudder of breath. Fear punched the air out of her lungs. “Mother?”
“Darling…” Another shuddery breath. “Your father’s in surgery. He’s had a heart attack. I’m going to need you to come home.”
Heart attack? “Oh, my God.” Papa. A flurry of memories shuffled through her mind in quick succession. At dinner with her family, telling them about her embarrassing audition for the school play, and her father reaching under the table to grasp her hand and hold it firmly in his. College graduation, when her father had pulled her aside to give her a special gift—a thick envelope filled with twenty-one notes he’d secretly written to her every year on her birthday.
Twenty-one beautiful, heart-wrenching, funny notes that she’d treasure forever.
And the day she’d gotten into perfume school—one of only four students they took each year—her father had hugged her and whispered in her ear, “You’re the light of my life. I’m happy for you.”
Tears burned, and her body went hot. “Is he all right?” Please don’t let him die.
Oh, my God, please.
“He’ll pull through by the force o
f my will alone.” Her mother paused. “But you must come home right away.”
“I will.” Right before she disconnected, she said, “I love you, Mama.” She had so many questions, but she knew her mother was in no frame of mind to answer them. Her mind fractured, a dozen thoughts zinging out and colliding.
Pack.
Wait, no, get a flight first.
Brodie. With shaking hands, she called him, but it went straight to voicemail. “I…I need you. Can you call me, please?” He’d gone to the building site. No reception. He wouldn’t be gone long.
What if he dies? What if he never wakes up after surgery? His heart could give out this time. She hated herself for pushing him so far. She could’ve come home when he’d asked her. She should have.
Why didn’t you?
Why had she insisted on prolonging her time in Calamity? No matter what, it had to end.
Pack. She’d taken one step toward the closet before she remembered she needed a plane.
She typed out a text to Brodie. My father’s had a heart attack. I need to get home. Can I use your jet? It’s the fastest way.
She waited—come on, Brodie. Answer me. She didn’t know how to reach his brothers. And she’d never hired a new assistant, so she’d have to get on her laptop and book a flight.
Give him a few minutes. He can’t be far.
In the closet, she wheeled out one of her suitcases, kicked it over, and unzipped it. She’d only take one. Leave the rest of her stuff behind. Who cares?
She loved her father so much. He can’t die. He just can’t.
In the distance, a sound registered. Tires crunching over gravel. “Brodie.” She raced out of the closet.
“Rosalina?”
No. Not him. She met Marcel in the hallway. “What’re you doing here?”
He walked right past her. “I’ve hired a jet. It’s on its way to the local airstrip.” He pointed towards her room. This one?
She nodded, following him in. As she stuffed her suitcase with shoes and everything that hung on the racks, he pulled more luggage out of the closet.
Glancing over, she saw him emptying her dresser drawers. “Forget that stuff. I don’t need it.”
“You’re not coming back, so we might as well take everything.”
Not coming back. It hit her like a fist to the throat.
I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.
It’s over.
Zipping her suitcase, she came out of the closet.
Marcel scanned her room. “Charger?”
“Nightstand.”
He bent over and pulled it from the wall. “Got it. Passport?”
“Oh, right.” She’d have left without it. Digging under the mattress, her fingers touched the cool folder. “Okay.”
“Ready?” Marcel heaved her suitcase off the bed.
She nodded, and they hurried out of the room. Grabbing her purse off the kitchen table, she took a quick look around the living area. Her black flip flops sat by the French doors, where she’d left them after a trip to the lake the night before. Jars and labels and pumps littered the table and kitchen counters.
“Let’s go.” Marcel led the way outside.
The driver waited at the trunk of his black sedan, taking the luggage from them.
Rosalina slid into the back seat, the cold air instantly drying her damp skin. Marcel got in beside her, reaching for her. “He’s going to be okay.”
Her hand jerked away as if a cockroach had crawled across it. “Don’t touch me.”
The driver got into his seat and shut the door. Within moments, they were heading down the driveway.
Marcel leaned forward and closed the partition, but he didn’t try to touch her again. “We’ll be home in just over ten hours.”
Her heart raced, and her stomach knotted. She couldn’t stand it. “Have you gotten an update? My mother didn’t say much.”
“There’s no information at this point.”
“Where was he? How did it happen?”
“From what I understand, he wasn’t feeling well during dinner, but they didn’t think anything of it. It got worse while he was reading in bed. Your mother found him in the bathroom.”
“What does that mean? Found him how?” She hated to think of her strong, sturdy father crumpled on the cold marble floor.
“All I know is that she called security, and they got him downstairs just in time to meet the paramedics. He’s in the private wing of the hospital. No one knows, and it obviously can’t get out.”
She tipped her chin down and went still. What had she done?
Why are you so selfish?
As her father had pointed out, she’d had seven—seven—years to find herself. That was more than enough. But, no, she had to push it, had to take more, more, more.
What if she’d gone home when he’d asked? Would he be okay right now?
“Stop blaming yourself.” Marcel’s voice snapped her out of her suffocating thoughts.
“I blame you. I would never have left home if you hadn’t cheated on me.”
Is that true, though? Even before you found out, you’d considered going to Calamity for the fitting.
But…had she been selfish? Or starting a business?
Did it matter?
“Don’t go there,” Marcel said. “We didn’t cause this. Your father has heart issues. And there’s tremendous stress in his life.”
“That you caused. I will never forgive you for this. If I could push you out of this car right now, I would.” Instead, she was stuck with him for the next ten hours. “I’m serious, Marcel. Don’t talk to me, or I’ll lose my shit all over you.”
He let out a huff, as if to say, See what you’ve become?
Damn right, this is who I’ve become.
And she fucking liked it.
With just four days until Rosie left, Brodie had asked his new architect to rush the blueprints for the lab. On his way to the bunkhouse, the drawings in a tube on the passenger seat, he wanted to floor it. Slap them down on the table and say, This is how serious I am.
But he didn’t want her to think he was pressuring her into staying here, so he needed to figure out the right words. Let her know he understood her duties and obligations, and he’d never ask her to give up her life in St. Christophe.
He just didn’t want her to leave without seeing the possibilities. To understand that he’d do whatever it took to keep them together. He had to get it right—pitch it in a way that assured her he wasn’t trying to lock her down. She didn’t want marriage and kids. She wanted to work, play, live, and he wanted to do all of it with her.
Parking, he grabbed the tube from the passenger seat and jogged up the steps to the porch.
He couldn’t wait to show her the new location—upwind from the lyantha meadow, so she’d have that scent in the house every June. She’ll love that.
And she’ll go home knowing what our life will look like together.
Nerves on fire, he threw open the door. “Rosie?” He imagined her expression, the excitement, when he showed her the lab. She could design it however she wanted. State of the art everything.
Heading into the kitchen, he breathed in the scent that would forever be associated with his woman. “Rosie?”
It looked like she was right in the middle of a project…making candles? She was always working on something. She tinkered, that was her style. She’d take a break, then go back to work. Eat some dinner, go back to work. Her mind worked like his, her subconscious always working through problems. The moment it delivered solutions, she’d cruise back to her lab.
He tapped the tube on the counter. “Rosie?” Damn, but he couldn’t wait another second to show her the plans.
He tried to think what she had going on today. She was waiting for another shipment of jars and labels. She’d already sent the formula to the production facility in Idaho, so everything was good there. He couldn’t recall her mentioning anything specific for this morning.
Maybe
she’d gone into town with Sky? Heading for her bedroom, he pushed the door open. “Rosie?”
Her nightstand, once crammed with books, hand lotion, lip balm, and water glasses, was empty.
What the actual fuck?
He strode into the room, throwing open the door to her walk-in closet. Empty. Except for a black cashmere sweater crumpled on the floor.
Blood roared in his ears, and he pulled out his phone. Immediately, he found a bunch of texts from her.
My father’s had a heart attack. I’m on my way home.
Oh, Jesus. Adrenaline flooded him, making him sick to his stomach. Her dad meant the world to her. But, before he called her, he skimmed the rest of the messages.
I’m so scared. It’s going to take me ten and a half hours to get home. What if I don’t make it in time? What if he dies before I get there? I’ll never forgive myself.
A smothering sense of helplessness yanked him under. He hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him most.
He should be with her. She shouldn’t be alone right now. Fuck.
He knew the guilt she had to be feeling. Her dad had asked her to come home, and she’d put it off another week. Brodie called her. Thank Christ, she answered right away.
“Brodie?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m here.”
“I can’t lose my father. I…”
And then she was sobbing so hard she couldn’t speak. For a few moments, he let her unleash. Didn’t distract her with meaningless words.
Fuck, he wanted to be there with her. Wanted to wrap her up in his arms and let her tears soak his shirt.
“Brodie.”
“Sweetheart, tell me where you are. I can have the jet ready to go in an hour.” Grabbing his keys from his pocket, he hurried out the door, flew off the porch steps, and raced to his truck.
“No, that’s all right. We’ve already hired a jet. We’re at the airstrip now.”
He heard a muffled conversation. Assuming, she was checking in for her flight, he said, “Give me twenty minutes. I’m heading over right now.” He jammed the key into the ignition.
