Chapter 32
Par for the course – what’s expected except what one person expects isn’t necessarily what the other does
Ismile as I burrow into the warm body behind me. Wait. Warm body? Rowan’s home? I glance at the clock. It’s nearly nine. He should be at the bakery.
His arm tightens around my waist and mutters, “Sleep.”
I elbow him. “Rowan, you need to get up. The bakery.”
“The bakery’s fine.”
“I’m serious, honey. It’s almost nine o’clock. The natives are probably getting restless. They’ll arrive with pitchforks in your yard any moment now.”
“Pitchforks? This town doesn’t use violence to solve its problems. They’ll stage a strike or a sit-in or some other form of non-violent protest.”
“I don’t think...” My words drop off as I realize this conversation is pointless. “Why are we discussing this? You need to move.”
He kisses my neck and cuddles in closer. “I already got up and did the majority of the baking.”
“You did? How did I not hear you getting out of bed?”
“You heard me. You said, and I quote here, ‘use the servant entrance, the dark lord is waiting for you in the turret’.”
I groan. I blame the fantasy romance I’m narrating for the weird dreams, although the sexy ones are all Rowan. The man knows how to use his body. Lucky me.
I wiggle my ass against his groin, and he growls. “I thought you wanted to sleep,” he grumbles.
“Sleep? Who said anything about sleep?”
His arm around my waist lifts until his hand covers my breast and he squeezes. I moan and arch my back.
“I like where this is going,” I manage to wheeze out.
I was wrong. I didn’t like where it was going. I freaking loved it. I grin as I allow the water in the shower to flow down my back. A knock raps on the shower door and startles me.
“No dilly-dallying. We have places to be,” Rowan yells through the door.
“We do?” I ask, but he’s already gone. He’s being mysterious. Yes! I love it.
I rush through getting ready. I throw on some jeans and a sweater before putting my wet hair into a messy bun. I don’t bother with make-up. I hardly ever bother with the stuff, to be honest.
I clomp to the kitchen and skid to a stop when I notice Rowan standing there drinking coffee and staring out the window to the backyard. His house is on the street furthest from Main Street meaning there are no other houses behind his – just woods and a trail leading to the river and the falls.
I wrap my arms around him from behind. “It’s peaceful here.”
He nods. “It is. I dreamed of Winter Falls when I was playing football. All those travel days, sleeping in hotels in cities where the traffic would keep me awake at night.” He sighs. “I couldn’t wait to get back home.”
I lean my cheek against his back. “Really? I thought you were devastated about your injury when you came back,” I say and hold my breath. Rowan never talks about his injury. I hope I’m not stepping onto a landmine here, especially since I only have one good leg at the moment.
He squeezes my arm. “Don’t get me wrong. My injury was devastating.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He unwinds my arms and turns around to face me. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. Am I disappointed my career ended abruptly at the age of twenty-nine? Of course, I am. But I’m over it. I had seven years of playing professional football. It’s more than most boys who dream of being in the NFL will ever have.”
I tilt my head back to gaze into his eyes. “You’re over it?”
He bops my nose. “I am. I have a great business. I have wonderful friends. I have this kooky town. And now I have you.”