“Oh,Idon’t want to intrude.Youguys have a good evening.”Sheturns to me and lifts her drink. “Thanksfor the beer.”
“Thatlooks like ourWhiteWheat,” he says. “Hopeyou like it.”
“Ido.ButIdon’t know anything about beer.”Shelooks away. “Idon’t mean that only people who know nothing about beer would like it.Imean, well,Ijust mean it’s good.”Shestumbles over her words as they run together. “Sorry.Yes,Ilike it.”
Walkergives her an understanding smile. “Great.”
“Butreally,”Maxsays toRose. “Youshould stay.”Heraps a rolled-up bunch of papers on the table. “Thisapplies to you too.”
Ifurrow my brow at my older brother. “Thisdoesn’t sound like it’s a casual social call.”
“Yeah, please join us,Rose,”Walkersays as he andMaxtake seats on the other side of the table.
Rose’seyes meet mine questioningly, andInod at her.
Asshe retakes her seat next to me,Ilean my forearms on the table and run a finger down the condensation on my glass.
Thiscould have been the most pleasurable eveningI’vehad in ages, a nice quiet time sharing food and drink with the woman living in my house who seems to be pretty fucking intriguing.
Iheave a deep breath and sigh. “What’sgoing on?”
Maxunrolls the papers in his hand.Insidethem are printed out pages.
“Walker’sfriend atAGoodLookemailed him an advance copy of the article before it comes out next week.”
Myheart sinks.Mystomach sinks.Andall my other organs follow them.
Thiscan’t be good.Itcan only meanI’min trouble.Again.
Maxlays out two sheets to form a double page spread, and turns them around to faceRoseand me.
“Oh, shit,”Rosesays as we stare at the headline that reads “TroubleinParadise.”
Shepulls the pages toward her and reads out loud.
“‘BigBrainToysbossConnorDashwoodfell head over tomatoes forRoseBellamorewhen he crashed into her at the opening of his brother,Max’s, community garden project last month.Itmight have been an unconventional start to a relationship, but it’s been a whirlwind for the couple.Ina matter of weeks, the master’s student, who obviously has a big brain of her own, was ensconced in the billionaire’sChelseatownhouse.’”
Roselifts her eyes from the magazine and looks around the table. “I’mensconced?”
“Keepgoing,”Maxsays.
“Hey.”Itake a swig of my beer. “Noneof this is her fault,Max.”
Rosegives me a slight smile of thanks and goes back to reading.
“‘Butare cracks already beginning to appear?DespiteRose’sbelief thatConnorhas given up the hard partying that’s turned him into the darling of the tabloids, he showed up to our interview very much the worse for wear.Wearinga stainedT-shirt and torn sweatpants and swinging a bottle ofJackDaniels, he picked a fight with her at every opportunity.’”
Rosecups her hands over her nose and mouth and looks at me over them. “Oh, shit,Connor.”
Mywhole body prickles in shame.Thisperfectly lovely woman is trying her hardest to do the job she was employed to do, to the very best of her ability.AndI’ma total ass.
Iclose my eyes and drop my head.
Rosereads on.
“‘Itseems the biggest rift is over the size of their future family.Connorwants five children.Hethinks that’s the perfect number since he and his two brothers were raised alongside two cousins whose parents were tragically killed in a car accident.’”
Roselooks up from the magazine toWalker. “Oh,God.Isthat true?”
