Wild Love (Rose Hill Book 1)
Wild Love: Chapter 43

I felt immense relief when my brother texted me to confirm he was free and not charged with anything. And then I got another one.

Home. He says it like we share the same one.

I’m staring at Ford’s words when his mom blurts out, “He’s a total goner for you. Whatever the reason I’m picking you up without him, I hope you know that.”

I roll my eyes over to Dr. Gemma Grant as we approach Rose Hill.

Yeah, I called his mom. First, I love Gemma and I knew she’d come. Second, this seems suitably embarrassing to Ford for being such a royal dumbass.

Such a dumbass that his mom had to come clean up his mess.

I suffered through a few long-ass hours of small talk and then she drops that on me right as we hit the town outskirts.

Swallowing, I turn in the passenger seat to face her. “Gemma, I adore you, and I respect your insight and knowledge on relationships and how important it is to pee after sex. And I won’t even lie and pretend it wasn’t a petty part of me that chose to call you knowing it would piss Ford off. But my brattiness has some limits, and divulging information to you about Ford and me is one of them.”

The skin beside Gemma’s eyes crinkles, and her lips tug into a very full smile as her hands twist on the steering wheel. “That was the right answer.”

My brows furrow, and I stare a little harder at the woman beside me.

And like she can feel me considering her, she talks again. “Ford needs someone who puts him first, even when they’re pissed off at him. And I can tell you’re pissed off. Been watching you stew for hours. And you deserve that from him, too. That privacy.”

I almost roll my eyes and tell her she should have this conversation with her son, but she keeps monologuing before I get the chance.

“I’ve been with his dad for decades and decades. And that man has infuriated me from time to time. But being in the spotlight is hard, and he and I made a promise to keep certain things between us. Because when you love someone, and you share the mistakes they’ve made with people who don’t love them the way you do, you can’t expect those same people to forgive them the way you do either. You can’t unsay those things or undo that damage.”

I flop back, letting out a heavy sigh. “That’s really fucking wise, Gemma.”

She chuckles and flicks her signal. “I went to school for a long time, been married to a Ford Grant for even longer. Seems like I should have figured out a thing or two by now.”

“Are all Ford Grants this… frustrating?”

“I’m afraid he comes from a long line of frustrating men named Ford Grant.”

“Well, if we have a boy, I refuse to name him that.”

Then I start and turn wide eyes on her. Fuck. That was an obnoxious slip of the tongue.

The car is quiet for a few beats, and then we both burst out laughing.

“God.” I scrub a hand over my face. “You gonna take back that part about me protecting our privacy?”

“No.” Gemma is grinning like a lunatic as we turn onto my family’s plot of land. “But I am going to take that slipup to mean you two are going to be all right.”

She parks in front of my brother’s house, and I sigh, reaching to unbuckle myself. “Yeah. I’ll forgive him. Don’t worry. Thank you for the ride—I really owe you one.”

It’s as I grab my bag and step out of her car that she leans across the console. “Hey, Rosie?”

“Yeah?” I bend to peek back into the vehicle.

“Make him work for it.”

I grin now, tossing her a wink. “Oh, I plan to.” Except I’m not sure I know how where her son is concerned. I’m too far gone for him.

I need time and space to think. So I slam the door and head to my bunkhouse to feed Scotty.

He’s probably starving.

My first order of business is to pick up my niece and nephew. They make the switch at 3:00 p.m. on Saturdays, and as cool as Mia is, I’m not sure she’d appreciate knowing that West was locked up for assaulting a person.

A shitty person who deserved it, but still.

When we get back to West’s house, it’s warm enough that we have a water-gun fight and I make sure to give them freezies and ice cream. Because fuck West for pulling this shit.

I time it perfectly. We’re back inside watching cartoons when I hear Ford’s G-Wagon idling outside and the slam of the door as West hops out. When he walks in the door, the sugar is just settling into their bloodstream.

“Daddy!” Emmy shouts from the couch before barreling over the back of it and launching herself into her dad’s arms.

Me? I just stand watching him, arms crossed, wondering how the hell my parents got through raising him.

“Hi, Rosie.” West grins at me.

I scowl back, shaking my head. My brother winces, and if he were a dog, he’d do that thing where his ears droop and his eyes go wide like big guilty saucers.

Then I give both sugar demons a kiss, grab the basket of laundry I did at his place over the last couple of hours, and walk out the front door.

“Where are you going? Wanna stay for dinner? I’ll cook for you.”

Kiss ass.

“No thanks. I’m going to go drink my dinner on my dock.”

“Your dock?”

I look back at my brother, ready to be the one who assaults a person if he tries to tell me it’s his. That dock has become my favorite place to sit, so he can fuck all the way off. I point down toward the water. “Yeah, West. My dock.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Sis, that’s not your dock. That’s not even our dock. That dock is firmly on Ford’s property. I’ve seen land survey certificate.”

“No, it’s not. Ford told me it’s mine.”

West chuckles and shakes his head, leaving me standing at his door.

Dumbfounded.

Back at the old bunkhouse, I fold my laundry, unpack, and “accidentally” drop some crumbs on the floor while trying to make sense of this new development.

It irks me more than it should. Mostly because it makes it even harder to be mad at Ford.

I make my way down to the lake with a bottle of red wine in hand and my favorite Navajo blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

I know that if I can sit on the dock and watch the sun go down, maybe I’ll be able to let this day go. Let all the grains of frustration I feel dissolve into the darkness as the light slips behind the mountain peaks.

Except when I get to the spot where the wooden boards meet the green grass, I stop. There’s a small sign. A plain slab of wood with light blue paint slashed across it.

It reads Rosie’s Dock.

I stare at it for several moments before realizing there’s an envelope on the ground beneath it. My name is scrawled across it in Ford’s alarmingly perfect handwriting. I swipe it up and rip it open. Inside is a deed to a small section of Ford’s massive property. According to the map, it’s long and narrow and reaches all the way up to the back of the property. It’s a buffer between his land and my family’s, and it’s also the section that links to the dock.

All this time, this dock hasn’t been mine at all. But when has Ford ever said no to me?

The paper rattles in my shaking hand, and it’s with a swirling pit in my stomach that I walk to the end of the dock.

My dock.

I need the peace and quiet I couldn’t find earlier with West’s kids around to process the last twenty-four hours.

Quite possibly the last several months.

But when I sit down, Ford and his shredded arms are swimming in the lake. The sun hits his already-tanned back and droplets of water shimmer on his skin. His hair appears almost black while wet and plastered across his forehead as he tilts his head to breathe.

He’s so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at him.

And I must be some sort of masochist because I also can’t look away.

I don’t know how long I sit here watching him. Long enough that all my anger, all my reasons for being disappointed, feel redundant and overwrought.

He shouldn’t have told West what he did. Shouldn’t have turned it into some sort of high school vendetta.

And yet, I know him well enough to understand his chest-beating alpha bullshit was well-intentioned. He’d never hurt me. Not on purpose.

I’m sad he broke my trust the way he did. But I also know I’ll forgive him. Tomorrow.

I’ll forgive him tomorrow because I don’t want to be a total pushover where Ford Grant is concerned. The man is far too accustomed to getting what he wants.

Eventually, he stops and surfaces, facing away from me. I watch the muscles in his back and shoulders bunch and release as he treads water, staring out at the same view I’m facing.

Except I have my eyes locked on him, not on the sky or the mountains. I find myself wondering how long I’ve been staring at Ford Grant.

I’m thinking it’s been a long-ass time, but I was too oblivious to see it. Too convinced he was too cerebral for a girl like me. Too convinced he disliked me. Too convinced he was just my brother’s best friend, and I was just their annoying tagalong.

I’m thinking that Ford and I have been in love with each other for years and just rationalized it to the point it felt unlikely, made up… impossible.

I suck in a breath, and he spins to face me, surprised by my presence. “Rosie.” He breathes my name like it’s the air itself. Necessary. Integral to his survival.

All I do is hold my glass up in a silent toast and swallow over the dry lump in my throat.

His face is drawn, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he regards me. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I nod quickly, blinking, wishing away the moisture that’s building behind my lashes. “I know. The dock, huh?”

He nods. “Squatter’s rights.”

“Ugh.” I blink away, wiping my eyes. Of course he has to be sorry and funny.

“Arranged for Cora’s mom to come for a visit,—driver brought her out here for the party tomorrow. So, she’s setting up in the spare room.”

And sweet. Triple whammy. Fuck my life. How am I supposed to be mad at this man?

I take a deep swig of the ruby liquid. Bigger than any wine connoisseur would approve of, but I’m hardly drinking for the tasting notes right now.

“That was thoughtful of you.”

He nods, the sound of water swishing accompanied only by the song of a loon farther out in the lake. “Figured Cora might be less mad at me that way.”

I turn my head. “Why would Cora be mad at you?”

“Because I…” His teeth clamp down, and a muscle in his jaw pops as he searches for the right words. “Because I hurt you.”

I let my eyes work over him. This serious, studious, deeply caring man. “You did.”

No point pretending he didn’t. What happened with my job was not only a violation but also incredibly embarrassing. I wish West didn’t know, or at least that I’d been the one to tell him, though I don’t think he’d have been my first choice of person to tell.

I’ll probably want to rehash that story one day. Might feel good to get it off my chest. Maybe I’ll tell Cora when the time seems right. Let her know that her run-ins with chauvinist douchebags aren’t over, but her calling it out the way she does might be the change we need.

But not yet. She’s too little and Ford and I are too new. That being said, I want to be able to tell her I faced this obstacle head-on That I didn’t run and hide. If she can call her teacher out, I can call Stan out.

“I’d like your lawyer’s contact information.”

He blinks.

“Why?”

“If West is going to press charges, then so am I. Plus, there’s gotta be a wrongful termination case there.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips and a spark of pride flares in my chest.

“And I’m not going to air out every bump in our relationship to your daughter. I’d never do that. That’s not how this works.”

“How does it work?” He asks it earnestly, with such a quiet voice and downcast eyes. My heart cracks a little at the simplicity of his question.

He turns his eyes up at me, still treading water easily.

“It works like… I’m gonna lick my wounds for a day.

Because you really pissed me off. But we’re not kids anymore, Ford. I don’t want to stay mad at you, and I don’t want to tell other people about the mistakes we make. Give me tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I swallow. His mom’s words come back to me as I sit here staring at a man who loves me enough to spend millions ruining a guy for touching my ass, one who will carve up his land just so I can have my dock. “Because other people might not love you the way I do. Might not forgive you the way I will. You and I? We’re a team. I kind of think we always have been.”

He blinks rapidly. There are already droplets of water on his face from swimming, but if I were a betting woman, I’d venture a guess that at least one of them is a tear.

His voice comes out raspy, rough like sandpaper, as he reaches for the metal ladder attached to the dock to steady himself. He looks straight up into my eyes and I soak him in. “I think I told West because I was scared of what I’d do if I had to keep that to myself. It felt like a simple way to step back into the roles we always played. To keep him as my friend and you as his bratty little sister who we had to protect.”

I chuckle. Joke’s on Ford. I’ll always be West’s bratty little sister.

“To keep myself from falling head over heels for a girl who was not only off-limits but unavailable.”

My heart drops in my rib cage as it hits me how tortured he’s been over me.

“I was trying to do what was right. And I…” He rakes a hand through his hair, like he always does when he’s agitated. “I fucked it up. I did too much. I kind of went off the deep end because of what that asshole did to you.” He laughs dryly. “All those buildings. This dock. Coming back to this town. That ridiculous, messy paint spot on the floor of my brand-new office that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to bring myself to fix because nothing about it needs fixing. Conscious, subconscious, I don’t know how or when—I don’t even know if I was fully aware I was doing it.”

A tear rolls down my cheek as I listen to him pour his heart out to me in an uncharacteristic fashion.

“Rosie, everything I do is for you. I know I’m not necessarily a safe bet right now, but I need to know⁠—”

A safe bet. It’s the second time he’s said that, and I hate it. I’m shaking my head as I place the wineglass on the old boards of the dock and push myself into the freezing cold water. I plunge in with a sharp gasp and open my eyes under the green-tinged mountain water. I let myself sink for a couple of beats, enjoying the shock of the moment, letting the water wash away the tears that had welled in my eyes.

There are rocks beneath me.

Air bubbles above me.

And Ford in front of me.

His hands are on me, wrapping around my waist and pulling me to the surface before I even have time to kick my legs.

“What the hell, Rosie!” he barks at me the minute we breach the surface. He rapidly moves us to a place where he can reach the bottom, though I still can’t.

His cheeks have turned a dark pink and his eyes are glowing, the way they do when he’s mad. “Are you insane? That scared the shit out of me!” His jaw pops, and I give him a small smile in response. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know.”

My soaked clothes are heavy, so I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. His warm arms wind around me, and his hands grip my ass. “I left all safe bets behind, Ford. I don’t want a safe relationship. I don’t want a safe love.” His eyes dance between mine, and I forge ahead. “I want messy and snarky and…” I peek back over my shoulder at the old barn, transformed into a new office, before turning my gaze back on him. “I want a wild love. I want you, even though you make me want to push you into the lake and break your computer and throw paint all over your pristine floors. I want this feeling I have with you where it hurts to breathe when you get too far away, where my skin itches uncontrollably when you look at me. Where thinking feels overrated because we both know nothing and no one will ever feel like this. Like us.”

He nods and I watch one lone tear trickle down his already-wet cheek, mingling with the water that’s already there. Like it never even happened. But I know.

“So I’m going to be mad at you for a few more hours. And then we’re going to carry on. I’m going to be chaotic, and you’re going to be meticulous. I’m going to drive you up the wall and you’re going to insult me in that way that feels nothing like an insult and everything like saying I love you. And we’re going to do this thing together.”

I cup his cheeks and give his head a little shake. “Because who the hell else would put up with me?”

Then he drops his head to my chest and murmurs, “Putting up with you is my favorite thing to do.”

At 11:59 p.m., I hear a soft knock at the bunkhouse door, and when I swing it open, Ford is standing there. One side of his mouth quirks up in a smirk while he casts his gaze down to the glittering Rolex on his wrist, stacked with beaded bracelets. Like those somehow make him more salt of the earth and less I buy tens of millions in commercial real estate for shits and giggles.

We say nothing for several seconds, and then he holds up his wrist, showing that the clock has officially struck midnight before crossing the threshold of the house.

He steps right up to me, gripping my chin and murmuring, “It’s officially tomorrow and I’m fucking sick of being without you,” before dropping his lips to mine. “I have a couple of things I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” I murmur between kisses. “Hurry and tell me so I can put your mouth to better use.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. And I can hear the ache in his words.

Then, “I’m giving you half of Rose Hill Records.”

That has me pulling away to look him in the eye. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You really have to stop waving your money around like this. It’s obnoxious.”

“Rosie, that business”—he points back toward his property—“is worth absolutely nothing right now. There’s no client list, there are no contracts. There is some equipment that could easily be sold and two people who work really damn well together. Please. Be my business partner, and if the place goes under… well”—he rakes a hand through his hair and chuckles—“then I guess you’re going down with me.”

I swallow. Going down together. Feels like we already have. We’re too intertwined to let the other one go. So I nod and scoff a watery, “Please, I’m exceptionally good at my job. I’d never let that place go under.”

When my eyes land back on his earnest face, his gaze traces over my features, searching for a silent affirmation. And he must find it because he nods.

I nod back.

Then we spend all night clinging to each other in that bunkhouse, and he doesn’t even complain about my pet mouse.