Page 92 of Wrong For Me

“Malone!” Jeremy the Harvard trust fund guy calls when he sees me. Rose’s head snaps in my direction, her eyes widening in surprise.

“It’s Malone!” one of the others says, a middle-aged woman in a red one-piece bathing suit. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her before, but she raises her glass in celebration. “Malone is here!”

“Malone!” half the tub’s occupants shout, raising their glasses.

“Looks like you guys are enjoying yourself,” I say.

“Dude, these old people are hilarious,” Jeremy says. He nods to the woman in the red suit, who’s now downing what appears to be straight vodka. “That’s the assistant dean of Princeton. Get a little liquor in ‘em and it’s party central.”

“Well, party central sounds more fun than staying in alone,” I say, never taking my eyes off Rose. I can’t read her expression. Is she pissed that I’m here? Still hurt by my rejection? Some of the bodies scoot around to make room for me and I end up in a spot directly across from her. Perfect vantage point to stare at her. But nowhere near close enough to do anything about the way sweater vest guy—Kevin—is leaning in towards her.

I take an offered mug of spiked hot chocolate, hoping the bite of alcohol will help calm me. I hate this. Hate knowing that I hurt her. Hate that we aren’t alone right now. Hate that some asshole gets to sit close to her when I can’t. All I want to do is pull her out of the water and throw her over my shoulder, take her back to our room, and make her see how sorry I am.

But since I’m pretty sure me acting like a caveman will be counterproductive in making Rose not mad at me, I can only sit there, trying to follow along with the conversation even as my eyes never leave her.

“Hey, Leo,” Jeremy calls. “When’s your flight tomorrow? A couple of us are talking about trying to get a round of golf in before lunch.”

“Early flight, sorry,” I lie. I’d rather get stabbed by hot pokers than spend a day playing the most boring sport known to man with a guy like Jeremy Kensington.

“I’m sorry, did he say Leo?” the lady at my side asks. “Leo Malone?”

There’s another chorus of “Malone!” from the drunken psychologists in the hot tub.

“That’s me.”

She smiles. “Ignore them. They don’t get a chance to let loose all that often.”

I manage a smile, even though I’m annoyed she’s taking my attention from Rose. “Everyone needs to unwind, right?”

She holds out a hand. “Denise Farmer. This is slightly awkward, seeing as how we’re both in our swimsuits, but I had hoped I’d run into you before I headed home tomorrow.”

I look more closely. Short cropped grey hair, nose ring, heavy cat eye glasses. Looks to be about forty-five or so. Completely unfamiliar. “It’s nice to meet you, Denise.”

“I have an internship opening up in San Diego this summer,” she says. “It’s a paid position, we’re using neuroimaging to help us understand hallucinatory episodes.”

Woah. Paid internships are rare as hell. And that research area is exactly what I’m interested in. “My TA suggested I speak with your colleague Miss Ransome.” She nods in the direction of the purple-haired Gina, sitting on Rose’s other side. “But Miss Ransome indicated you might be a better fit for the research area.”

My head snaps over to Rose. She’s watching us, her expression still unreadable. Rose did that? She turned down a kick ass position and suggested me for it instead? A paid position. Which Rose clearly doesn’t need—but which she must know would be the only way I could give up a summer job.

I wait for the familiar flush of anger and embarrassment. Rose knows I’m broke. She went out of her way to help me. That should set off every one of my defenses. But it…doesn’t. It just doesn’t. Staring at Rose’s blue eyes across the hot tub, all I can feel is gratitude. And something a lot stronger, deep in my chest. Something I’m way too afraid to give a name to yet.

I manage to refocus on Denise, but there’s nothing I can do about the emotional rasp of my voice. “That sounds like an amazing opportunity. I’d be thrilled to talk about it.”

She nods. “If you’re up for a late night, my research partner and I are planning to grab a quick drink around midnight. She’s on the awards committee so she’s been bogged down with reception business tonight, but we need to touch base before we both fly out in the morning.”

“Late nights are no problem for me.”

Denise smiles. “Come meet us in the Aspen bar around twelve fifteen. We can do an informal interview, find out if we think the fit will be right.” She stretches. “My middle-aged ass has reached its limits for boozing and revelry.” She nods at me as she stands. “See you in about forty-five minutes.”

“Of course,” I stammer, hardly able to believe this good luck. “I’ll be there.”

Across the hot tub, Rose is watching me.Thank you,I mouth, hoping she can read how sincere the sentiment is.

She nods once, then turns back to Kevin at her side, leaving me to go right back to staring at her, my chest filled with a warm fuzzy feeling I have no idea what to do with, but which Bodhi would most certainly laugh his ass off over. Rose did something nice for me. Really nice. Even though I acted like a dick. Even though she was upset with me. She still went out of her way to help me get something I need.

And the crazy thing? I’m not even all that surprised. Oh, the echoing voice of my mom in my ear tells me I should be more than surprised. That nothing comes for free and I better be on my guard. But the voice is softer than usual, maybe softer than it’s ever been. Because I know Rose Ransome and I know she did this for no other reason than she’s a damn good person.

All the warm fuzzies fly right out of my chest when Rose lifts herself up to sit on the edge of the hot tub, her legs dangling in the water. She’s in a bikini. A yellow striped bikini that looks so good on her I could honestly cry. But I can’t even focus on the gorgeous sight in front of me because the asshole Kevin has joined her on the side of the tub. And the fucker has his hand on her thigh. On her bare, wet thigh.