“I hope you don’t mind I invited Rowan,” she remarks as I flick the top off the bottle and take a large gulp. “I ran into her at the cemetery this morning.”
I nearly spit out my beer, fighting to force it down my throat. “The cemetery?” I look at Rowan. “Why were you at the cemetery?”
“I was walking a shelter dog. We were just wandering around and stumbled across it.”
“Bark Twain?” I ask, remembering the dog she waswalking during our first meeting that resulted in me wearing my coffee.
“Thankfully, he’s been adopted.” She smiles, and I have to push down the warmth seeping through me from how damn beautiful she is whenever she does.
“Then who was it today? Bilbo Waggins? Winnie the Pooch?”
She tilts her head. “You remember the names?”
“It’s hard to forget names like that,” I say carefully.
What I don’t say is I remember everything about Rowan.
The way she hums under her breath when she’s distracted.
The way she dances when she doesn’t think anyone’s watching.
The exact curve of her mouth when she smiles, especially when she’s trying not to.
I force my eyes away from her, aware of my mother’s analytical stare scrutinizing everything I do or say.
“Do you need help with anything, Ma?”
“We’ve got it all under control.” She flashes me a conniving grin, entirely too pleased.
“Okay.”
I turn to leave, but as I do, my gaze snags on Rowan again. Our eyes meet for half a second, long enough for something to spark between us.
I quickly look away and hurry out of the kitchen, not breathing until I’m safe in the living room with my brothers.
But all I can think about is Rowan.
So much for spending a few hours with my family to distract me from her.
And the kiss I can’t stop thinking about.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HAYDEN
Dinnerat my mother’s house is never quiet.
Plates clatter. Glasses clink. Voices overlap in a dozen directions at once. Someone’s always asking for the butter. Someone else is telling a story that gets interrupted halfway through. And there’s at least one argument brewing over something inconsequential, usually sports-related.
Today is no different.
Yet somehow, despite the chaos, everyone’s attention keeps drifting back to Rowan.
She’s seated halfway down the table, her expression animated, obviously feeding off the energy of being in a room full of people.
“And then I realized I’d parked my van for the night in what I thought was a beautiful spot along the beach,” Rowan says, laughing. “Turns out it was also themeeting point for a sunrise yoga class. At five a.m., someone rang a bell so aggressively I thought it was a tsunami alarm or something. I woke up convinced the world was ending. When I slipped out of my van to see what was going on, the instructor invited me to ‘embrace the morning.’ And because it’s my year of yes…”
“You joined them?” Dylan asks with a single brow arched.
