Page 30 of Love You Already
“You're supposed to be ga-ga for my sister. Don't go falling for me,” he teases at one point.
I shake my head. “It's not that. I'm just amazed at how laidback you are. I met Bridgett, and I've been around Rose enough to see them. Nate is a different story, but even then, I can tell you're the most personable of the Wright siblings.”
“You'd be right. I don't see a point in being anything but myself. It's either enough for people to handle or it's too much. And if it's the second, they're welcome to go find someone less... whatever it is that bothers them. I'm Beckett Wright. Son, brother, rancher, and damn good karaoke man when I've had enough to drink.”
“Is that so?” I ask as I finish the last bite of food. “Is there a place that has that?”
Not that I'd ever participate. There's no way you'd get me on a stage belting out some country lyrics. I'm too well known; my face is too recognizable. And with technology in the hands of just about everyone above age ten, I'm not risking becoming a viral sensation.
“Sips. Rose hosts a karaoke night about once a month. We'll have to get you up there next time. I bet she'd love that.”
If there's anything to get me to act a fool, I guess it's going to be my wife. Funny what love will make you do.
CHAPTER 15
HE'S THE TYPE TO BE VOLUNTOLD.
Rose
“Ughhhhh” I groan as I throw the blankets off the bed. I can't find a comfortable position to sleep in. I'm too hot. Or I'm too cold. My brain won't shut off. It's always something to keep me from drifting off into a peaceful night of rest.
And the worst part is I know why I can't sleep. Lachlan.
He's been on my mind nonstop since walking out of my office six days ago. I've thought of little else because he takes up every square inch of available space. A pause at the bar? I picture Lachlan striding through the door. Grabbing breakfast at the main house? I remember the meal we shared with my family. Working in my office? I remember the look on his face when I suggested we slow down.
The more I think it through, the more I realize how hard it must have been to hear me be so blunt about my feelings. I'm so used to men who are rough around the edges that I wound up hurting the first soft-hearted man to show an interest in me.
“What's your deal, Rose?” I mumble to myself as I shuffle through the house to find something to snack on.
I weave through the boxes I still haven't unpacked since my arrival. Not because I don't want to settle in. It's more that I can't seem to shake the dread that I'm not where I'm meant to be. It's like a sick voice whispering in my mind, telling me that I should have stayed on the circuit. Maybe then I wouldn't have wound up in Vegas. Maybe then I wouldn't have accidentally married Lachlan and we wouldn't be dancing around each other.
In the kitchen, I find it just how I left it. Bare. There's not much of anything there except some crackers and a half a gallon of stale coke.
Wrapping my blanket tighter around my shoulders, I take off for the front porch. I'll just head up to the main house to sneak something. No one will mind since they're all asleep. A peek at the clock shows me it's one in the morning, the perfect time to sneak a snack.
I use my bike; a light pink cruiser Beckett bought me as a joke during one of my visits home. I found it while helping with the chores yesterday. I rode it around for a bit, then drove it home and parked it on my front porch. It was the perfect mode of travel tonight since an engine would surely alert them of my arrival. Not that Beckett or Daddy would mind much. Nate might though.
Wrapping the blanket around my barely there pajamas, I lift it enough for it to not catch on the wheels, then I tuck it between my legs. From there I push off, my focus on getting to the main house I can see lit up in the distance.
It's a slow ride. The bundle of blankets, my exhaustion from lack of sleep, and my hunger pains create a vortex of frustration. At the halfway point, I nearly give up. Falling to the ground and accepting defeat would be much, much easier.
Intrusive thoughts squashed; I make it to the house without too much more of a struggle. The second I'm within close enough distance, I ease off the bike and leave it behind. I trek across the yard toward the back door. Lights flicker dimly from inside. None that would indicate anyone is awake.
I use the spare key daddy keeps in a fake doorbell camera. The front cover pops up, granting me access to that little golden prize. I'm careful as I unlock the door, aware that any extra noise could be a problem. I'm a secret agent on a special mission. Operation: Feed my belly is a go.
The main house is a cool sixty-eight degrees, Daddy's personal favorite sleepy time temperature. His words, not mine. I shiver as I pull my blanket higher.
In the kitchen, there's a dim light from the stove on and not much else. I look around to see my options. Cookies, cereal, leftovers, though I can't use a microwave so maybe not that. I settle on a bowl of cinnamon goodness and proceed to pour a bowl.
I'm in the fridge grabbing the milk when Nate's voice moves through the room. “You always had a late-night sweet tooth.”
“Holy Moses! What the heck Nate?!” I whisper shout at him as I whip around, milk in hand, ready to attack.
My eldest brother actually cracks a grin at that. “You're only going to defeat someone with a dairy allergy like that. The jug would burst before you could do much damage, Rosie.”
His teasing is familiar enough to calm my racing heart. I shut the fridge and move to pour the weaponized milk into my bowl.
“You want some, or did you just come to find the intruder?” I ask cautiously.