I’m certain this is the first time I have heard her say my name. Damn certain. Because I would have remembered the way it sounded from that soft, raspy voice.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s merely modeling an example of just how she’d get more bees with honey. And hell, if it didn’t work.
Because the second I heard my name from her lips, I wanted to hear it again.
I glance over to tell her that it won’t work—if only to convince myself—but when I do, I hold back. Her eyelids are falling heavy.
She’s tired.
It’s barely another minute drive before I reach the cottage. I consider the distance. Sure, she can walk from point A to B of where she’ll spend most of her time, but that might still get to be a little too much.
The thought makes me consider if I’m being a little rough on her before her first day. Like I’m expecting her to fail.
And that’s not fair.
Not to mention if she hates it here and leaves, who’s to say Wesley won’t follow her back to the east coast?
My thoughts come to a complete halt when I see Dallas’s car along the gravel road in front of Millie’s cottage.
“The hell?” I mutter.
“Something wrong?” Concern laces her voice, which is unexpected. Or maybe what I’m hearing is moreanticipationfor something exciting. That’s more in line with what I know about her.
And unfortunately, if it’s a show Rose is itching for, she might just get one.
4
Rose
“Stay here a minute,” Wilder tells me, and my heart is in my throat. Panic slams into me as he rushes out, leaving me alone in the car. I can’t move—can hardly breathe as past events drag me under.
The sun has set and the lights are on in the house. I blink, making out the car parked in front of the charming cottage. It’s familiar. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw it back at Wilder’s house just under an hour ago.
I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s someone he knows. Someone who .?.?. lives with him?
Is it a woman? Will I be livingwithsomeone?
I watch him march across the gravel road to the porch steps before quickly deciding I want to know what’s got him so worked up.
Jumping out, I follow behind him. My footsteps crunch on the gravel but he’s too focused on who’s inside to notice.
My eyes trail around the blue and white painted exterior. Thiscan’tbe all for me for the short while I’m staying. I imagined I’d be at one of the cabins we just drove past. Wes said he stayed inone before he bought his apartment but that I wouldn’t last a day in one of those.
It was almost insulting. But on the off chance he’s right, I didn’t challenge my brother. But this .?.?. this is more like a small house. Wilder’s clearly taken me to the wrong place.
I’m still staring up at the siding when I feel myself—once again—crash against a hard body that’s stopped short in front of me.
“Oomph,” I exhale on impact.
Bouncing back, I blink, quickly realizing I’ve slammed against his backside this time.
Anddamn,he’s hard everywhere. What is this man made of? They sure don’t make them like this in Manhattan. Or South Carolina for that matter. I should be abundantly mortified that I just pressed myself against him, not once, but twice in the span of one hour.
But I’m not.
I’m buzzing with a new energy I can’t quite place. But the heat filling my cheeks is about to spell it out for me.
Is it me? Would it have killed Wesley to warn me that this man is notorious for stopping short and I’d do well to stay within ten feet of him at all times?
