Love Fast

I shouldn’t be here. I’m playing with fire, dancing with danger—whatever the metaphor. I should stand up, take my hot chocolate inside and return some calls or watch the game. I should do literally anything but stand here on my front porch, waiting for Rosey Williams.

But here I am.

After I saw her earlier today at the Club, I asked my assistant to remind me when I’d signed off on the waitstaff uniforms. I hadn’t expected a plain black pantsuit to be so provocative. Maybe it was just who was wearing it that made the uniform seem so suggestive. Rosey looked sexy as fuck, her hair swept up, giving easy access to her neck. Then there was the way the vest clung to her torso, emphasizing her curves and small waist. I’d never even noticed the uniforms until today. Until I saw Rosey in hers.

I don’t know why I ended up telling her about my family background yesterday. For some reason, I wanted to share with her. Not that I’ve revealed the whole story. Like the fact that I’m the owner of the Colorado Club.

Will she be pissed I didn’t tell her? Not that she’d have any right to be—I mean, we hardly know each other. Except it feels like we do. Or we… should. Maybe I’m hoping she’ll feel like I should have told her. Like I owe her something because—because what? We shared a mug of hot chocolate and a conversation?

I’m being ridiculous.

I’ve never been one to question and second-guess myself like this. Not in business. Not with women. Why has Rosey managed to get under my skin?

The bus pulls up on the main road, to let me off at the end of the drive and I watch the door open with embarrassing eagerness. Rosey appears in the doorway, calls a thank-you back to the driver and steps down to the road. She’s smiling to herself and that makes me grin. Two days ago she walked out on her fiancé and she’s already smiling into the cold Colorado air. Is that the Star Falls Effect?

“Hey,” she calls as she sees me, my boots resting on the balustrade of the porch. “More hot chocolate?”

“You’ve made me an addict,” I say. “You want some? Milk’s still warm in the pan.”

Her grin lifts on one side and she nods.

I stand and throw her a blanket. I don’t have a swing on my porch, just a bench. “Get under there. It’s cold tonight.”

When I return with her drink, the green plaid blanket is pulled up to her chin.

“I should have taken my coat off on the bus,” she says. “So I’d feel the benefit.”

“You want to go inside?” I ask her.

She reaches up for her drink. “No, this will warm me up.” She glances at the mug. “No marshmallows?”

“I’m not asking for any favors tonight,” I say, as I take a seat next to her. If she only knew I’d had my assistant arrange for the hot chocolate and milk to be added to my grocery order today. Gary got overexcited at the mild change in routine, and started suggesting other things, including marshmallows. He gets me the same order of groceries every week. When I told him I just wanted the hot chocolate and milk, it was like I’d just taken away his favorite toy. Poor guy is assistant to the most boring man in the world, apparently.

“We’ll get you there.” She shifts the blanket around so it covers both our legs, and I let her even though the air seems to have warmed several degrees since she got off the bus. “I’ve got a week before I move. You’re going to be able to make the perfect mug before I leave.”

My stomach tugs at the thought that she won’t be my neighbor for much longer. I chastise myself. It’s good she’s moving. No more dancing with danger. No more taking stupid risks because the woman in the cabin next to mine is hot. I’m in Star Falls to work, not to fuck the staff. I’ve got to stay focused.

So why am I still sitting here?

“How was your first day?” I ask.

“A little overwhelming.” She sighs, and I have the urge to fix whatever’s troubling her—to extract every detail of what she’s struggling with so I can make it better. “It all seems so complicated. I’ve never worked in a hotel—no, not a hotel, a resort.” She laughs. “You know we can’t call the guests guests, because it might make them feel like they’re not at home? They’re members.” She squeals. “And apparently it costs members a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year to… I don’t really understand what that gets them, actually. The ability to pay more to stay there? It’s wild. All that money.” She shakes her head like she really doesn’t get it. “Can you imagine?”

She turns her head in my direction when I don’t answer.

“I think having a lot of money comes with its own challenges,” I say, not wanting to outright lie. If I tell her the truth, it will change things between us. I’m her boss, after all. “Just like having no money.”

“I guess. I mean, I suppose the super-wealthy have different worries. But I’d happily trade champagne problems for food insecurity any day.” She says it like she has experience, which fills me with a deep urge to make things better.

She turns back to face the woods again, and we sit in silence for a few beats.

“I don’t think money necessarily makes you happy,” she says. “You know what I mean? I think you can be happy with money and sad with money.”

“Right,” I say, because I don’t really want to say anything. I just want to listen to what she has to say.

“Frank—my ex-fiancé—he had money. Not Colorado Club money, but he was very comfortable. To me, and probably to most people in our town, he was rich.”

“But he wasn’t happy?”

“No,” she says. “I think he was. I just don’t think I would have been happy with him.”

“And you were marrying him for the money?” I hope she can’t hear the edge in my voice.

“No,” she says, her voice bright, like she’s not offended by my question. “Not for me, anyway. I think it was the safety for my family. Frank is kind and generous, and my mom loves him. I have three sisters who… let’s just say I’m the oldest and the most sensible. Frank’s given one of them a job. He represented a secure, dependable future.”

“But you didn’t marry him.”

She pulls in a deep breath. “It wasn’t enough. I didn’t love him.” She takes a sip of her drink. “And honestly, I think it was important for him to take care of me—in every sense. I was going to live in the home he bought years before we met. I worked at his garage. I slotted into his life. That worked for him. It gave him a sense of control.”

“I think that sounds like it could be… constraining for you.”

She gasps, and I feel her body shift beside me. “Constrained. That’s exactly how I felt in Oregon. It was like I was living in a box and could feel every edge. Every corner. I knew every inch of that box, and if I married Frank, it was all I’d ever know.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I sound ridiculous.”

“I don’t think you sound ridiculous at all.” I can’t say it to her, but I think the way she’s describing her life is kind of poetic. And more than a little sad.

“My mom would definitely think I was being ridiculous. I guess that’s why I’m in Star Falls and not back in Oregon.”

“Because of your mom, not your fiancé?”

She pauses as if she’s really considering my question—like what I’ve asked her is important and she wants to give it due consideration. The way we’re talking, it’s like we’ve known each other years rather than days. “Frank was a meal ticket for her. She knew she’d never have to worry about rent or bills as long as Frank was in the family.” She glances down at her mug, like she doesn’t like what she just admitted.

“She expected him to look after all of you.”

“I think that was his expectation, too.”

“And he was prepared to do that because he really loved you?”

Her eyes stay fixed on her mug. “I feel terrible. I just left. I should have looked him in the eye and told him what I was feeling. Instead, I sent him a text as I boarded my flight. I just knew my mom would force me to go through with it if I stuck around. Once I decided I couldn’t marry him, there was no way back. If I had married him, I would have resented him and my mother for the rest of my life.”

“Couldn’t you just tell your mother you didn’t want to marry Frank?”

She fiddles with the edge of her mug. “You’d think so, right? Problem is, my mom has a way of making me feel guilty unless she gets her way.” She stares into her mug. “She would have told me I was being selfish and reckless, that I would never find a man as good to me as Frank was.” She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek like she thinks her mom might have been right. I have the urge to scoot closer, to tell her she did the right thing. But who the fuck am I to this woman?

“Sounds like she’s more concerned with her happiness than yours,” I say.

“It’s weird, the farther I am from her, the more differently I see her. I always thought she was just doing whatever she needed to do to make sure our family made it. But now I think she was making me do whatever she wanted to make sure our family made it.”

I set my mug on the railing. “Sometimes parents don’t realize the pressure they’re putting on their children,” I say. “Or they don’t think about it.” For years after his death, I wondered how my dad slept at night, knowing he’d taken out loan after loan on the family farm to pay off his gambling debts. Eventually, I realized he wasn’t thinking about us at all. He was only ever thinking about himself.

“Do you think I’ve been selfish?” she asks.

“No.” My voice comes out with a gravelly edge. “It sounds like you escaped a future you didn’t want. That’s not selfish. It’s self-preservation.”

“That’s exactly how it feels.” She scans my face like she’s committing it to memory. “You say that like you know how that feels, too.”

I let out a breath. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about escaping a future I didn’t want.”

“And you didn’t want Star Falls?”

“I didn’t then,” I say. “Right now, there’s no place I’d rather be.” Our eyes lock, and I want to reach across and press my lips against hers. Earlier today—even earlier this evening—it was clear kissing Rosey was the last thing I’m supposed to do, the last thing I’m supposed to want. But in this moment, all the clarity has gone and my mind is full of fog and her. I can’t think of one single reason why I shouldn’t be kissing the woman in front of me.

“Are you cold?” she asks, as I take her mug from her and place it next to mine.

I shake my head and cup her face. “Are you?”

She bites down on her lip. “This is probably a bad idea, but I want to kiss you right now.”

“You’re right, it probably is a bad idea.” I let my hands drop from her face, but she places her palms over them and puts them back.

“But I want you to do it anyway.”

We stare at each other for a few more moments. I try to remember why being here, staring into Rosey’s blue eyes, is a bad idea, but my mind is blank. All I can see is her.

I lean forward. She smells of a pine forest after rain. Her fingers smooth up my chest and my entire body clenches at the feel of her touching me. Part of me knows I should try to resist her, because if I let myself melt into her touch, I’m screwed. I can’t ever remember feeling this way before. Maybe because in New York, it’s easier. All the rules are laid out in front of you: You go on a date. You kiss, you don’t kiss. And then you can disappear back into the city if it doesn’t work out. Things in Star Falls aren’t so simple.

Rosey lifts her face slightly, as if she’s asking for me, and suddenly I remember why I shouldn’t be kissing this woman. The Colorado Club. I’m her goddamn boss.

I’m her goddam boss and she doesn’t know it.

I should tell her, say something. She needs to know. But I’m trying to lie low, stay focused. Kissing Rosey was never part of the plan.

A screeching yowl from somewhere interrupts us and we break apart, my hands falling from her face, our breath still mixing in the cold night air. Just as I begin to think I imagined the noise, Rosey—panting, chest already heaving—says, “Did you hear that? Was it a wolf?”

We shift to face the wilderness, but I can’t let her go completely. My hand slides down her arm and takes her hand in mine. “It didn’t sound like a wolf.”

The yowl sounds again, just before a long-haired white cat lands from nowhere on the porch railing.

“Fuck!” I say. “Where did that come from?”

Rosey starts to laugh next to me. “Not a wolf, then.”

“Way scarier than a wolf.”

“Byron, it’s the fluffiest cat I’ve ever seen. There’s nothing scary about it.” She leans forward, holding out her hand. “Here, kitty, kitty. Who do you belong to? Is she Beth and Mike’s cat?”

“I have no idea. But Beth and Mike live on the other side of town, so I doubt it.”

“Maybe we should feed it.”

“That will just encourage it to stay.”

She beams as I say it, like that was her exact plan.

“But it’s someone else’s cat,” I say, as if that’s the real reason I don’t want to encourage its presence here. “I’m sure they’ll miss it if you steal it away.”

Rosey narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not sure your intentions are honorable.”

I chuckle. “If you knew what I was thinking up until we got interrupted by that cat, you’d know they weren’t honorable.”

I enjoy the blush creeping over her cheeks. I glance back at the cat to find it staring at Rosey, like it knows she’s the soft touch here. It’s not wrong.

It jumps from the railing onto the floor by Rosey’s legs and starts to rub itself against her jeans. I can’t blame it. Wasn’t I ready to do the exact same thing a minute ago?noveldrama

“I’ve always wanted a cat,” she says. “But there wasn’t enough room for all of us in our trailer, let alone a pet.” She scratches the cat under its chin and the cat starts to purr like a Bugatti.

“It’s loud,” I say.

Rosey laughs. “You jealous?” she asks. “You want me to tickle you under your chin?”

“You can do anything you want to me,” I reply.

“I’m going to take a rain check on that,” she says, letting go of my hand and standing. “I have an early shift tomorrow. I don’t want to piss off my boss on my second day.”

“Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

She laughs, though I’m not quite sure why.

I don’t want her to leave, but we barely know each other. I can’t expect her to stay. The cat follows her into the cabin, and all I can do is sit here and wonder how the fuck I almost kissed a near-perfect stranger, and why I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself next time.