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The Reluctant Boyfriend (The Bad Boyfriend series Book 4) Page 9


  Finally, the driver found a patch of worn dirt that served as a turn-out and maneuvered the car back towards the highway. She sat up straighter, dying to text Brodie. I’m coming back.

  “You’re a blessing, Rosalina.” Her mother let out a dramatic sigh. “I can’t say I’m happy about any of this. I’d much prefer to be planning your wedding right now, but in any event, please understand that we won’t be announcing the end to your engagement, so it is critical for you to maintain your dignity. Even in a little cowboy town five thousand miles away, you’re still the princess of St. Christophe and, as far as the world is concerned, you’re happily engaged.”

  Up until her mother put the words out there, Rosalina had been thinking of nothing more than working on her essential oil…with Brodie. But three simple words—maintain your dignity—shook up a carbonated brew of emotion.

  She wanted to break free of dignity and expectations and duty, almost as much as she wanted to work in her lab. Okay, just as much. “I’m not here to run wild, Mama. I’m here to work on something important. If I have to give up my career for several years while I marry and have children, then I’d like to get my business launched now. This matters to me. So much.”

  “I know that, my love. You’ve always been a wonderful, dutiful daughter. But I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that we can’t afford to have any pictures hit the media of you behaving badly, particularly with other men.”

  She smiled, because she already had her workaround for that. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to be Princess Rosalina here. I’m Rosie, and I wear cowboy boots and jean skirts.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I love the idea of creating scenes throughout the store,” Vanessa said. “Like bears gathering at a stream or a pack of wolves coming out of a den. What do you think?”

  Brodie couldn’t concentrate. It was the damn lyantha, filling up the whole bunkhouse. “Something to consider.”

  Not five minutes after Rosalina left, Vanessa had come over with the floorplan for the new Outfitters. Held in place by beverage coasters, it stretched across the table. As she pointed out the various features, his mind kept zeroing in, then zoning out.

  That smell would forever be associated with the princess. And, right now, it drove home that she was gone. He’d known her, what? Five days? So, it wasn’t like he missed her.

  No, it was the business. They’d started something good, and he didn’t want to lose momentum. She’d probably get distracted as soon as she got home.

  He thought of that awkward handshake, and he knew it wasn’t the business he was worried about. No denying it, there was some weird kind of connection that pushed beyond the formality of strangers but stopped short of the easy comfort of a girlfriend.

  Friend. He’d meant friend.

  “What do you think?” Apparently, while his mind had drifted yet again, she’d shifted gears, because now Vanessa was tapping the left side of the drawings.

  He noted five small rooms. “I don’t think we need that many booking agents.”

  She cocked her head. “These are the corporate offices. I’m assuming you’ll have a general manager, a buyer…I wasn’t sure how many you’d need. I can adjust the size of each room to accommodate the number of employees you anticipate hiring. Actually, if we take out the wall, this becomes a conference room where you can plan the adventures you’ll offer.” Studying his features, she said, “You’re not really focused on this. I jumped the gun.” She smiled. “It’s just I know how you work. I wanted to get this done before you switch to the next project.”

  The accuracy of her assumption pissed him off. “I’m not doing anything else until I finish Owl Hoot, but you’re right. You jumped the gun. I can’t move forward until I get approval from the board, and before I do that I need to come up with a few other ideas.” He tapped the blueprint. “This is good, though. I’m glad you got started, but let’s sit on the details until I come up with a full slate of businesses to present.”

  “Gotcha.” Shoving aside the coasters, she rolled up the blueprint and slid it back into the cardboard tube. “Okay, let’s do this instead. Let’s sit down and brainstorm—”

  Tires crunched on gravel, and sunlight glinted off black metal. Rosie’s town car? Had she forgotten something? He jerked back so hard, he knocked over his water bottle.

  Vanessa grabbed it before it spilled. “Who is it?”

  A car door slammed, and a woman said, “Thank you so much.”

  Rosie. She might as well have been on fire for the way he hustled out the door. He found her on the walkway, surrounded by luggage…and no bodyguards. His heart thundered in his ears. “You miss me, princess?”

  “I did. Well, it’s more your kitchen and your meadow—does that hurt to hear?”

  He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt this…exhilarated. “I feel so used.” He stepped off the porch and approached her, reaching for the largest suitcase. “What’s up? Miss your flight? And where are your…” He remembered Vanessa. “Buddies?”

  “They’ve gone home without me.” She searched his expression. “I’ve decided to stay in town a little longer.”

  It was all he could do to keep from wagging his tail like a damn puppy. “Sounds good.”

  “Well, there’s a problem. I called the hotel to get my room back…” She hesitated. “It’s booked for the summer.”

  “What’s going on?” Vanessa came out, shielding her eyes with a hand.

  “She’s moving into the bunkhouse so she can finish her work on the spa products.”

  Rosie’s cheeks flamed bright red. “Oh, I didn’t mean I’d stay here.”

  “How long are you in town?” Vanessa asked, surprise clear in the lift of her eyebrows.

  “I don’t have a specific timeframe, but no more than a month or so.”

  “Oh, well, that’s too long for her to stay here,” Vanessa said.

  “She can stay as long as it takes to get the project done.” He didn’t like anyone telling him what to do—but driving Rosie away? Hell, no.

  “I’m sure I can find a place in town.” Rosie got all flustered.

  “Summer season’s just starting. Everything’s booked by now.” Brodie shrugged. “It’s no big deal. We’ve got plenty of bedrooms, and I’m hardly around.”

  “Brodie, why don’t you come live with me?” Vanessa asked. “We’ve got so much work to do anyway.”

  “Nah, I’m not moving again. I’m good here.” He grabbed another bag from Rosie’s hand and hauled both of them into the bunkhouse. “My bedroom’s all the way at the back, so you can have any of the others.”

  Originally the bunkhouse for a working ranch, the place was huge. He and his brothers had torn down walls to create bedroom suites out of the dorm-style rooms.

  “Okay, thank you.” Rosie looked between him and Vanessa, clearly picking up on the architect’s attitude. “I’ll just…” She motioned towards the long hallway before heading down it.

  “Are you sure you want someone living here with you?” Vanessa asked quietly.

  “I wouldn’t have told her she could if I didn’t. Besides, it makes sense. We’ve got a lot of work to do in a short period of time.”

  “But you’ve got other, more important, projects.”

  “Vanessa, it’s done. She’s staying.”

  She opened her arms wide, then let them drop. “Fine. Now, where were we?”

  He felt as jittery and wired as if he’d downed an energy drink.

  All because Rosie was staying.

  “Oh, right,” Vanessa said. “You need to brainstorm ideas for Owl Hoot.”

  “Just a few more.”

  “Tell me what you’ve got and how many more you need.”

  He pulled out his phone and found his notes. “The Outfitters is going to bring in the tourists, so then I just need a few more stores to make it interesting for them.”

  “How about clothing? Logo wear?”

  “We’ve got that in
the hotel.”

  “True. Well, what are your tourists coming there for? The whole wild west theme, right? We could offer gold panning, chuck wagons, that kind of thing.”

  “Are you talking about Owl Hoot?” Rosie came back in, and as stunning as she was dressed as a princess, he liked her even more in a simple pair of pants and shirt.

  “Yeah. I’m looking for the kind of businesses that’ll bring people back, but I don’t want it to feel like a tourist town.” He didn’t miss the way Vanessa’s features flinched from embarrassment.

  “So, you want the wild west theme without it feeling gimmicky?” Rosie asked.

  Like panning for gold. “Exactly.” And chuck wagons.

  “I can tell you a few things that work in…” Her eyes cut to Vanessa. “My town. We have a reliquary museum. It’s housed in this adorable, historic cottage. It’s not like a museum with priceless art. More like quirky pieces of cultural history collected over the years, things that trigger memories across a century of—"

  “We know what a reliquary museum is,” Vanessa said. “We have one in Calamity.”

  “But this would be different.” Brodie liked the idea. “It’d be all about the outlaws who lived in the valley, the original settlers. It’s a great idea.” He typed it into his phone, imagining the docent dressed in period costume, explaining the history of the artifacts. “You wouldn’t believe the things that’ve been found during digs over the years. Spurs, jugs…it’s crazy.”

  “Do you need a few more ideas?” Rosie asked.

  She knew he did, and it pissed him off that she was holding back because of Vanessa’s attitude.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Well, a sweets shop is always a huge success.”

  “Sweets?” Vanessa smiled. “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from a small town in Europe. Anyhow, in ours, one side is an old-fashioned ice cream parlor, and the other is a high-end bakery with everything from croissants and pies to tarts and wedding cakes.”

  Bells went off in his head. “A wedding chapel. Owl Hoot could become a wedding destination, too.”

  “I think you might be going overboard,” Vanessa said. “Let’s stay focused.”

  “Actually, I think it’s a great idea,” Rosalina said. “Because you don’t have to do anything other than create a chapel and a bake shop that sells wedding cakes. Maybe have a flower shop in the hotel, but all you need is the basic infrastructure.”

  “Well, it sounds like you’ve got more than enough ideas.” Vanessa checked her watch. “I need to get going. I’ve got a meeting in town. So, I’ll do some research on churches in western towns in the late nineteen-hundreds and start working on some drawings. Are you going with the bakery, too?”

  “Yes,” Brodie said. “I like that a lot. Every tourist towns needs an ice cream parlor, but I also like the idea of a bakery-slash-café. We’ll get an espresso machine and then have big bins of candy.” In his excitement, he smiled at Rosie—and he felt his heart crash into hers—a wild, crazy explosion.

  “Okay, then. I’ll check back with you soon.” Vanessa looked between them, obviously confused.

  “I need to call my fiancé, let him know my change of plans.”

  Rosie wasn’t a game player, so she really shouldn’t try. But she thought he and Vanessa were together, so he appreciated her attempt to remind Vanessa she wasn’t a threat. “He’s okay with you being gone so long?”

  “Oh, he’s used to my schedule by now. That’s why we’re such a great team.”

  Team? Seemed strange that she hadn’t said couple.

  Vanessa pulled her keys out of her tote and headed for the door, heels clicking on the wood floor. “Talk later.”

  Once she was gone, Rosie sighed. “She’s really not happy I’m staying here.”

  “It’s none of her business.” He headed into the kitchen and pulled a couple knives out of the block.

  “Brodie, I don’t want to cause problems in your relationship.”

  “We work together. That’s it.” He handed her one, and then pulled a box off the stack. Setting it on the table, he shoved it towards her.

  She stabbed into the taped center and sliced it open. “Does she know that?”

  “I’ve told her, so I sure as hell hope so.” He hefted another one and opened it.

  “Okay, but if it becomes a problem, let me know, and I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

  “Not necessary. With all we’ve got to do, you need to stay here.”

  “True. Especially since I can’t rent a car.” Once she’d pulled out the contents, she started carrying them into the kitchen.

  “Felon?”

  “What?” She looked horrified at the idea, until she saw he was joking. “No. If I’m going incognito, I can’t rent a car under the name Rosalina Anais Isabella Villeneuve.”

  “No, you’re right. That wouldn’t fit on the rental agreement.” He set an armful of mason jars on the counter.

  “You love to have fun with me.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Because you can’t get over the whole royalty thing?” she said to his back, as he walked out of the kitchen.

  He stopped and turned to her. “Because you’re a princess who ran in front of my bulldozer. Because instead of booking spa time, you spent your first day in town doing your chemistry project. Because you dress like royalty one minute and the girl next door the next.”

  “Yes, and while I seem like a complex puzzle of contradictions, I’m really just a girl, standing in front of a guy, asking him to go into business with her.”

  “Oh, we’re doing this.” He rubbed his hands together. “You talk to your family?”

  “I did, and they’re not interested in any of my plans.” She looked so damn disappointed.

  “To hell with them. We got this, princess.” He headed back to the table to open the last box.

  “Right, so, since I’ll be using your flower petals and my proprietary ingredients—that took me years to formulate—I’d like a straight-up partnership. Your flowers, my formula, our product. You agree to only sell it through this one hotel—that’s including the spa and the store, and when I go home, I’ll open the same exact store in St. Christophe.”

  “You want it to look like an old western town in Wyoming? How’s that going to go over in Europe?”

  “Really well, actually. The whole cowboy thing is kitschy. I think it’ll be a big hit.”

  “Sounds good, but what if I want to become a hotel magnate? What if Owl Hoot is so successful, I decide to open a string of them?”

  “You’ve got big plans to turn ghost towns all over the west into living museums?”

  “You take all the fun out of it.” But he could see his spirited princess still hadn’t recovered from whatever had made her turn the car around and come back. “Okay, so what do you need?”

  “Well, I’ll need to do some shopping.”

  He whipped keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, no. It’s enough that I’m staying here. I’m not going to inconvenience you by having you drive me around.”

  “Let me be clear about something. I’m never going to offer something I don’t want to give. I’m not that nice of a guy.” Except with you.

  “You just keep telling yourself that, cowboy. Underneath that gruff exterior is a very generous man.”

  “I’m a businessman. The more problems I eliminate, the more you can focus on our project. Let’s go.”

  Since they’d gotten into the truck, Rosalina had become obsessed with Brodie’s forearm. Tan and muscular, with light brown hair, it led to muscles that bulged and flexed every time his hand moved on the steering wheel.

  As she sat primly in her seat, she fought the urge to touch him, to smooth her palm from his thick wrist to the sensitive skin on the inside of his arm, up to the swell of that incredibly powerful biceps. Of course, she didn’t know him well enough to do that, but that was the problem. She wanted to know him that
well. She wanted to put her feet up on the dashboard, roll down the windows, and touch him like he was her boyfriend.

  She wanted him to throw her a private smile—no words necessary. Just a simple, Happy to be here with you. She wanted his big hand on her thigh giving it a squeeze. Oh, yes. She could imagine him caressing between her legs, his knuckles brushing her knickers.

  A sizzle struck the base of her spine, shocking the hell out of her.

  God, when had she become so…aware?

  Is it because of what Fabi and Marcel said about me? But it only took a moment to reject the idea that her attraction had to do with anything other than chemistry. A healthy, normal, physical reaction to an extremely virile man. It was delicious, and she loved it.

  He flicked on his signal and turned into the grocery store’s parking lot.

  “Is there really nothing romantic between you and Vanessa?”

  Easing into a spot, he cut the engine. “Probably as romantic as you and your ‘teammate.’”

  The terminology lingered like a bad smell in the quiet of the truck. “My what?”

  “You referred to your fiancé as a teammate.”

  “Did I?” She took in his strikingly handsome profile, the mirrored aviators, the strong jaw, and sensual mouth. “That’s odd. I probably just—”

  “What happened?” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “On the ride to the airport, what made you turn around?”

  She couldn’t hide a damn thing, and she was going to live with him the next several weeks so she might as well spill it. “This is a vault, right?” She wagged a finger between them.

  He nodded and gave her a serious expression.

  “Those friends who let me down? On the way to the airport, I found out one of them double-crossed me. He was supposed to pitch my new product line to my parents, and instead he convinced them to not go with it. And that’s…that’s such a terrible thing to do, because he knows how important this business is to me, and he’s been completely on-board this whole time. So, now, to flip on me, behind my back—to not even give me a heads-up? He could’ve called me to say he was having doubts. I deserved a chance to fight for it.” All this anger swirling inside her seemed to gather like pins to a magnet to form a hard, pulsating disc.