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She doesn’t react. Someone must have told her. It’s hardly a closely guarded secret. The trial headlined the local papers for weeks.
I don’t tell her that Daisy, the owner of the original recipe, had her own reasons for believing I should never have gone to jail. She told me she knows what evil looks like, and it isn’t me. Her story is a wild one. But it isn’t mine to tell.
“I will always be indebted to the Anderson family for choosing to place their faith and trust in me. So when Daisy said Maria reached out to her because she knew someone who needed some fresh scenery and had an eye for figures, I agreed to take you on.”
Her shoulders soften, and her arms drop. “Maria is my sister’s best friend. She used to work with someone called Daisy in California. That makes sense now. I guess I should be thanking you for taking me on as your charity case.”
I cross the distance to her, and slam to a halt before inhaling.
Vanilla and petals.
“Listen. You aren’t a fucking charity case. I’m not here to save you. Only you can do that,” I hiss, failing to disguise the anger in my voice.
She stiffens again, lifting her eyes to mine, ever so defiant. She pulls her shoulders back and takes a deep breath.
“Good. Because I don’t need saving. And certainly not by you,” she declares.
The overwhelming urge to kiss her smart mouth strikes me like a hot poker to the heart, and I retreat quickly, dropping my hands to my hips.
“The workday ended ten minutes ago.”
“So it did.”
The light in my office dims as gloominess takes over the sky, and rain pours down. Rose glances at the window, then leaves.
She walks from the cottage every day. The thin blouse and short swishy skirt she’s wearing won’t last two seconds in the rain before she’s soaked through and freezing.
I curse myself as I walk to the closet in my office. She’s someone’s sister, and the idea of Jasmin getting a chill or…
I grab the umbrella and march to Rose’s office where she’s turning off her computer.
“Here.” I drop it on the desk. My lips twist at her soft expression.
Don’t look at me like that, baby. I’m no fucking white knight.
“The idea of you getting wet is…” My eyes have a mind of their own and wander to her sheer blouse and the outline of lace beneath.
Fuck. Her wet… her long legs—Shut the fuck up, Dax.
“Thank you. I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Monday, then.”
I clear my throat and glance at her once more before I leave. “Have a nice weekend.”
“You too, Dax,” she calls behind me.
Her saying my name invokes a million images in my head that have no place there. Not now. Not ever.
Fuck doing favors for other people.
Chapter 5
Rose
Idropthegiantknocker, letting it bang loudly against the thick, painted wood and step back, craning my neck to look at the house. Jasmin said Dax has converted the top floor to an apartment. Apparently, he never likes to be too far from work in case there’s a problem. Guilt for being away for two and a half years—Jasmin’s words.
