a free ride—in more ways than one.
Sure, he still called her at least once a week to talk about Holly and beg Dorothea for a second chance, saying he’d made a mistake, blah, blah, blah, that he missed her more every day, that he’d lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, that he’d only slept with Charity Sparks—his coanchor—because he’d feared she would get him fired if he refused her advances. As if he were a Victorian maiden with a pushy beau. He’d said he needed his job in order to provide for Dorothea and the baby.
If that were true, why had he insisted she continue to work, saving money, rather than return to school?
Truth was, he hadn’t wanted Dorothea to return to school—to become competition. Now he just wanted to keep her on the hook. Well, good luck with that. He’d made her feel like garbage when she was a prize. More than that, his actions had led to the worst day of her life. He meant nothing to her. Less than nothing.
Holly glared at her. “You want to run the inn without me. Fine. Do it. When you fail, and you will, I’ll laugh in your face, not just behind your back. Meanwhile, I’ll be sure to get caught up in my favorite class. Assholeology 101.”
Can’t win. She hadn’t reached her sister at all, had she? Rather than wilt, she forged ahead. “If today is any indication, you’re well on your way to a solid A plus.”
Her sister’s jaw dropped. Dorothea walked away before she said something to further widen the gulf between them.
Once enclosed in her room, she pressed her palm against her rose tattoo and focused on her surroundings—her sanctuary. She’d decorated the space with Grandma Ellie’s antiques: a floral-print couch, a pink velvet settee and a royal blue porcelain side table painted with...of course...roses. Those flowers were the reason she’d named—
Sickness churned deep in her stomach, and she forced her thoughts back to Grandma Ellie, who lived in heaven now; the woman was probably speaking with angels right this very second. You go down there and slap some sense into my former son-in-law. He’s actin’ nuttier than a Porta Potty at a peanut festival. No one treats my grandbabies like that!
Dorothea missed her spunky grandmother with every fiber of her being.
Disheartened—again—she showered and dressed in a clean pair of scrubs; they were made to survive daily washings and vast amounts of bleach. This pair happened to be purple, one of her favorite colors. She swiped her lips with cherry-flavored lip gloss before heading to the storage closet on the bottom floor. Along the way, she anchored her thick mass of curls into a sloppy, wet knot on the crown of her head.
As she cleaned the first block of rooms, music spilling from her iPod and setting the pace, she tried not to lament her initial attempts to improve her life. With Holly...and Daniel.
Time to figure out what to do about him.
To be fair, he wasn’t exactly a failure. He’d offered her exactly what she’d asked for—a single night of pleasure.
Not enough for me. Not anymore.
Just once, Dorothea wanted to be the girl the guy desired deeply, madly...and long-term. She longed to be first choice, the prize and not the consolation. She yearned to matter. To mean more to a man than his job, his bank account or the opinion of his family. What she didn’t want? To sleep with a man and later see him fawning all over another woman.
Been there, done that.
What had a lot better odds of success: the local tackle shop selling bait and calling it sushi.
A hard knock sounded, jolting her. She ripped out her earbuds and spun. A common occurrence lately. This time she had to swallow a yelp or a moan, she wasn’t sure which. Daniel had pushed her cart aside, giving her a full frontal view of masculine perfection. His black tee stretched across wide shoulders and hugged well-defined biceps while his dark jeans did naughty things to his lower body. The wind had left his hair in charming disarray, and her fingers ached to comb through the strands. His beard stubble had grown thicker, making him look rough, tough and bad to the bone.
He looked so danged good, like a sexy outlaw who followed no rules but his own...and he was seeing her in her scrubs and without a speck of makeup.
Oh, what the heck did it matter? She no longer had any interest in catching his attention. Did she?
She lifted her chin, all drink me in—but don’t you dare touch.
Daniel smiled at her, slow and devastating and utterly wicked. Pleasure unfurled deep inside her, delicious warmth spilling through her whole body.
He held a large bouquet of dew-kissed roses. One of every color, with the exception of pink, which had two buds.
The moisture in her mouth dried, and she shook her head. The roses couldn’t be for her. He couldn’t know what that particular flower meant to her.
And according to Lyndie and Ryanne, flowers were cliché, a generic gift given without much thought for the recipient.
“Hello, Dorothea.”
“Hi.” To mask her sudden cascade of tremors, she ripped the sheets from the bed. Cooter Bowright had checked in last night and, though he didn’t know it, he’d competed with Daniel for the title of Worst Guest Ever, wrecking the room. “Holly mentioned you wanted to speak with me.”
“Among other things.” The huskiness of his voice proved to be a weapon as powerful as any touch. “These are for you. I thought your favorite color might be pink, because of your tattoo, but decided to cover all the bases, just in case, because of your fingernails.” He walked around her, placed the flowers on the nightstand and helped her fit the clean sheet around the edges of the mattress.
The roses are for me. And he noticed my tattoo and my nails. Goose bumps spread from head to toe.
Dang him! “They’re beautiful.” Like my curves? “Thank you,” she muttered. She gathered the supplies she needed and headed to the bathroom. A hint for him to leave.
Hinges squeaked. Then a soft snick sounded. Then an ominous click. She sucked in a breath. He’d just shut and locked the front door, hadn’t he?
He appeared in the bathroom doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. Before she could protest, he said, “You smell amazing, like lavender and...what’s the other scent?”
“Scents. Sweet marjoram and ylang-ylang. I like blending essential oils.” Those particular scents happened to be known for relieving stress...and stoking desire. Which had nothing to do with her choice to basically soak herself in them. Of course.
“I like you. I want to start over with you, Dorothea. I want to go on a date with you, get to know you better.”
Her heart leaped with excitement... “What about your dad?”
“We’ll have dinner in the city. He’ll never know.”
...only to fall into her ankles.
There was no denying the truth any longer. She still wanted Daniel. Actually, she wanted him more than ever. He hadn’t just called her curves beautiful; he’d backed up his words with actions; he’d chased her, bringing her a gift. Something Jazz had never done. And she understood Daniel’s reasons for wanting to
