SWNOVELS When He Desires: Chapter 18
“Morning!” Del’s chipper voice pierces through my ear.
I groan into my phone, still half asleep. “You woke me up.”
“Girl, are you serious? It’s eleven a.m. here, which means it’s like one p.m. your time.”
What? I jerk up, my heart rate skyrocketing. “You’re kidding.” A glance at my phone screen tells me she’s not. Shit! I should have set an alarm. “Oh my God, I’ve slept through half the day. I’ve got things to do.”
“Take a deep breath. You sound like you’re having a heart attack.”
Yesterday rushes back to me. The fire. Brett coming over. Rowan’s offer—I still haven’t told Del about it.
“Give me one sec.” I lower the phone from my ear and listen for any sounds outside. It’s silent. Rowan must have left for work a long time ago.
“Okay, you still there?” I ask.
“Uh-huh. What’s going on?”
I tug the duvet closer to my chest. Rowan’s duvet. “I’m going to be staying with Rowan for a bit. In exchange, he wants me to pretend to be his girlfriend. You know, so that everyone here will stop thinking he’s a man whore.”
Del gasps. “Come again?”
“I know. It’s insane. And what’s even more insane is that as part of this deal, he’s fixing up my house. For free.”
Del squeals. “That is nuts. But like in the best way ever. Let that man take care of you, girl.”
I groan. “It feels so weird. I mean, he’s getting the short end of the stick here, isn’t he?”
“You’re not the short end of the stick. Clearly, he thinks whatever you’re doing for him is worth it. Now tell me more about this fake girlfriend thing. What are your responsibilities exactly?”
I gnaw on my nail. “We haven’t really discussed it in detail, but at the very least, we’ll have to be out in public together. I’ll have to pretend to be into him.”
“Can you do that?”
If she’d asked me that question two weeks ago, I’d have probably said no. But now? I don’t think I’ll have a hard time. In fact, I’m worried about how easy it might be.
Rowan isn’t nearly as shallow and flighty as I thought he’d be. He’s got a caring and generous side to him that I wasn’t expecting. And being on the receiving end of that side? It feels good.
Maybe too good.
Brett’s generosity wasn’t like that. It never felt good to receive. He’d help me make my car payment now and then, but every time he did it, he’d make a big deal out of it, like it was my fault my mom needed something I hadn’t been anticipating that month. And afterwards, he wanted me to lavish him with gratitude.
Compare that to Rowan, who seemed almost uncomfortable when I kept thanking him last night.
‘Then you better get used to it, because I take care of what’s mine, Sunshine.’
A shiver runs through me. I fall back down on the bed. “I think I’ll manage.”
“And is there an end date to this arrangement?”
“I’m still planning on selling the house once it’s repaired. So I guess we can keep doing this until then, unless he wants to end it earlier.”
“That could be months.”
“Correct.”
For a while, Del’s silent.
“What?” I ask.
“That’s a long time to be playing pretend with someone. Especially someone who looks like he could fuck you into oblivion if given the chance.”
“Did I tell you he kissed me on Thanksgiving?”
“No! What?! Are you joking?”
“I’m one hundred percent serious. It just shows you how chaotic the last twenty-four hours have been, I honestly forgot about it for a second. We were in the kitchen and he just went for it.”
“Oh my God. How was it?”
“Um…” I swallow. It felt like being struck by lightning. “Good. But it can’t happen again.” And it won’t.
“Uh, are you sure about this whole staying with him thing? You can always come stay with me.”
“I have to be in Darkwater Hollow while the repairs are being done. I’ll be fine,” I say weakly.
“Just…be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt.” Rowan might be growing on me, but I’m not an idiot. I know better than to let my guard down around him again.
My phone buzzes twice. An email? It’s probably my schedule for the week.
“Okay, I’ve got to get out of bed. Talk to you later?”
“Yep. Love you, good luck.”
In my inbox, there’s an email from Brett. He sends it around the same time every week.
But when I open the PDF, my jaw drops. He took me off the schedule for the next two weeks.
“That fucker!”
I scroll back to the top of the email and realize I missed the personal note he left me. Take some time off, B. It’ll give you an opportunity to reflect on your choices.
My blood boils. “That petty, childish, miserable asshole!”
He knows I need the money, and so he’s trying to squeeze me dry. Maybe he thinks I’ll get desperate enough to come running back to him.
Honestly, what is wrong with him?
I jump out of bed, furious. I need something to distract me from my anger, or I might just drive over to Frostbite and cause a big scene.
Deep breaths.
No. I won’t give that jerk the satisfaction of seeing how he’s rattled me.
Instead, I get started on my long to-do list.
I take my duffel to Rowan’s laundry room and dump my stinky clothes into the washing machine. After I start the laundry, I march over to my house.
The thought of seeing the damage is daunting, but I’ve got to rip the Band-Aid off. Rowan’s going to fix it all. I just have to remember that.
The front door whines on its hinges as I open it, a new sound that it’s never made before.
I take a cautious step inside, and my heart leaps in my throat.
The living room is ruined. Everything is covered in black soot. A strip of sunlight pierces through a hole in the ceiling, slicing through the husk that used to be my couch.
And the bookshelf… The bookshelf is an ashy graveyard of all the stories I love so much. The stories that got me through the hard parts of growing up. The stories that let me escape into fictional worlds where I could pretend to live the life of the heroine. A life full of romance, adventure, and opportunity.
A life I doubt I’ll ever have.
My vision blurs for a few moments. I sniff and wipe the wetness that’s somehow appeared on my cheeks.
Oh, there’s no point in feeling sorry for myself. Who’s that going to help?
It takes me a half hour to pack two suitcases of stuff, mostly clothes, some books I kept in my bedroom, and other essentials.
When I drag the heavy suitcase up Rowan’s front porch stairs, I pull something in my back. By the time I’m done, I’m sweaty from exertion, my back aches, and I’m no less pissed off than when I started.
I take a shower. I wash my hair. I put on my freshly laundered clothes.
By the time dusk comes around, I’ve been stewing in my anger at Brett for hours, and it’s close to boiling over.
I’m so damn tempted to at least call him and give him a piece of my mind, but even in my current state, I know that would only make it seem like his plan is working. He wants to get a reaction out of me. I refuse to give him that.
I’m clicking through the TV channels, trying to find something to keep myself away from my phone, when the front door opens.
Rowan is home.
I turn off the TV and cup my palms over my mouth. I have to tell him what Brett’s done. How else can I explain why I’ll be sitting at home for the next two weeks?
When he comes into the room, my breath hitches.
Oh boy.
Honestly it’s just not fair that he looks like that. Today, his outfit’s as ordinary as it can be—a gray T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Nothing special, right?
Wrong.
Somehow, this man has the befuddling ability to look like he’s stumbled off the pages of GQ, no matter what he wears. I suddenly understand why some people are willing to pay hundreds of dollars for a simple cotton shirt—on him, that T-shirt looks like it’s worth a million bucks.
And don’t even get me started on those arms. Those tatted, muscled forearms are a work of art.
Heat creeps up my neck. If those arms had been on display when he kissed me in my kitchen, I think I would have let him do whatever the hell he wanted to me.
Wait, what? No. No, I wouldn’t.
“Why are you shaking your head?”
My eyes snap to Rowan’s. Focus. You need to tell him about Brett. “It’s been a long day.”
He tilts his head. “You okay?”
“I need a drink.” Or two. Or three. By now, I’ve learned the difference between a bad mood I can fix with self-talk versus one that requires a liquid cure, and this is definitely the latter.
Rowan tucks his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. “What happened?”
“It’s Brett. He took me off the schedule for the next two weeks. And he wrote a note. Take some time off, B. It’ll give you an opportunity to reflect on your choices. That prick. I mean, who does he think he is? Yes, he’s my boss, but this is obviously him retaliating because I didn’t want to go stay with him. Isn’t that illegal? Of course, he knows that even if he is breaking some kind of employment law, there’s not much I can do about it. I just want to— Ugh! If you knew the kind of violent fantasies playing out in my head right now, you’d be terrified of me.”
Rowan’s lips twitch. “I’m quite curious about these violent fantasies, actually.”
“They involve male genitalia and a hot branding iron.” I stand up. Pain shoots through my back, but I manage not to wince.
“Well then, I suppose I should be glad your anger is directed toward Brett and not me.” His eyes drag over my black tank top.
Shit, I’m not wearing a bra. I rarely do when I’m at home, but now that I’ve got a roommate, I’m going to have to start. I don’t need Rowan to know that one lingering look from him is enough to tighten my nipples into points.
He’s managed to get under my skin with that kiss. I need to stop thinking of him that way. Now. Otherwise this fake dating thing has a high chance of going very off the rails.
The last thing I need right now is to have my little romantic heart get attached to him. It might take a little while longer now, but I still intend on leaving Darkwater Hollow.
“Yeah, well, lucky for you, you’re not the one screwing me over.’ Reaching down, I grab a plate off the coffee table I left from a sandwich I ate earlier and take it to the kitchen.
Rowan follows behind me. He leans against the kitchen counter, watching me rinse the plate. “This might be a good thing.”
“How?”
“If you’re off work for the next two weeks, we’ll be able to move quickly with the repairs. If we have questions, you’ll be on hand to answer them, which speeds things along. Sam’s going to swing by tomorrow or the day after, by the way.”
I shoot him a timid glance while I scrub at the plate. I still can’t believe he’s doing this for me. While Brett insists on making life as difficult as possible, Rowan is going out of his way to help me.
“That sounds great. How was your day? Hopefully better than mine.”
“Got stopped by a cop. One of Brett’s friends.”
I nearly drop the plate I’m holding. “What?”
Rowan shrugs. “He wanted to scare me a bit. It didn’t work.”
A fresh wave of anger rolls through me. I turn off the tap and grab a towel to dry the plate. “That’s it. I’m going to call him and tell him he can’t do shit like that.”
“You don’t need to do anything, Sunshine. I’ll handle it.”
He doesn’t sound at all worried. Doesn’t he understand the problems Brett can create for him and his business? The Lewises are the most powerful family in Darkwater Hollow. If they wanted to, they could find a way to run Rowan out of town.
It’s a big deal. If Brett’s willing to go this far because I’m staying with Rowan, what is he going to do once he hears we’re supposedly dating?
I blow out a breath. “I don’t understand why he cares so much about what I do with my life. Yeah, we dated for a long time, but it’s not like I’m a big catch.”
Rowan shrugs. “I get it.”
“Huh?”
Warmth bleeds into his gaze. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Del said the same thing to me earlier, but hearing it from her didn’t make my pulse suddenly race.
I move to the cupboard to put the plate away, pretending like his comment didn’t hit me right in the chest. Ugh. The shelf is just…a…bit…too…high.
A shadow comes over me. “Here.”
I bite down on my lip as Rowan’s hard body presses against me. He plucks the plate out of my fingers and effortlessly slides it onto the shelf I was struggling to reach.
Ta-dum. Ta-dum. Ta-dum.
What were we talking about again? No idea. His heat blankets my back, and I wonder what he would do if I leaned—
CONTROL YOURSELF.
Keeping myself perfectly straight, I lower down from my tiptoes. But he’s too close. My butt grazes his thighs on the way down, and a flutter appears low inside my belly.
Oh God, this isn’t good. I’m supposed to keep my cool around him but instead, I’m burning up.
There’s a light touch against the side of my neck. I don’t dare breathe as he moves my hair from one side of my neck to the other and says from somewhere close to my ear, “Get dressed. You said you needed a drink, right? I’m getting you one.”