Page 56 of Entangled
Her eyes widen. “Do you think it’s a sign or something?”
“I hope not.” I meet her emerald gaze. “I kinda love the idea of having you all to myself.”
She smiles. “Good thing I kinda love the idea of being all yours.”
* * *
Stretching,I release a yawn that comes from my toes as I lean against the counter waiting for the coffee to brew. My machine has an automatic function, so I could technically have it ready when I wake, but I never remember to set the damn thing up at night.
It’s Sunday morning. After over a hundred deliveries and wild truck sex, I finally stumbled into my bed at midnight. I’m beyond exhausted. My muscles ache from lifting heavy boxes. And likely from thrusting.
My cock twitches at the memory of Rowan on her knees for me. First, she deep throated me like a porn star, and then she let me bend her over a box and fuck her boneless. It was the most intense sexual encounter of my life, but what resonates even deeper was what happened after. Our exclusivity agreement.I kinda love the idea of being all yours.
It’s been a long time since I tried my hand at a relationship. After my marriage disintegrated, I told myself I was destined to be alone. I metaphorically stuffed both hands in my pockets. Now that I’ve had a taste of what it’s like to be cared for, I never want to let go of that feeling.
I want to do something to make the holidays special for Rowan. I need to show her how much I appreciate the home-cooked meal she forced on me last night. When I walked her back inside, she fixed me a bowl of beef stew and threatened to barricade the door if I didn’t eat something before going out in the cold. Chelsea never did that kind of thing.
The more time I spend with Rowan, the more I realize maybe I wasn’t the only one at fault in my failed marriage. Keeping us afloat was supposed to be a joint effort. Instead, I poured energy into a ship that was destined to sink. Rowan is the life raft I never saw coming.
She’s bright, beautiful, and bold. Yet there’s still so much of her mind I haven’t explored. Why doesn’t she leave the house? More importantly, how can I coax my sweet recluse out of her haven? She may be the billionaire in this equation, but I want to give this woman the world.
I scroll through the upcoming events listed on the Mistletoe Creek town website. Maybe if I can find something close to home, I can convince Rowan to join me on a date. Most people do the first date thing before they fuck, but the rest of my life is backward, so why shouldn’t my courtship skills follow suit?
My work schedule is horrendous, but I’m usually off on Sundays. Next Sunday is a lantern festival at Queen’s Orchard. It looks like there’s going to be caroling, spiced hot cider made with apples from the orchard, and floating lanterns. I’m not entirely sure where—or how—they plan to float them, but it sounds like an event Rowan might enjoy. My gaze lands on “horse-drawn carriage rides” and I smile. Sounds pretty fucking romantic to me.
Now all I need to do is convince her I’m worth leaving the house for.
24
ROWAN
Mood Music: “Finally // Beautiful Stranger” by Halsey
It has been a whirlwind week.Now that the last-minute holiday shoppers have realized they’re down to the wire, my shop is inundated with orders—especially for jewelry.
When I first started Rapunzel’s Tower Creations, I only planned to sell artwork. One day, I randomly listed a few necklaces I’d made and sold out of them right away. I made a few more, and the same thing happened. After the third time, I shifted my business model a smidgen. Even though I still sell paintings, clothing, and other crafts, jewelry remains the most profitable category. More importantly, the long days—and nights—working on beautiful things makes me feel like I have a purpose. If my beadwork, gemstone design, or hammered silver and gold can put a smile on another woman’s face, then I’ve done my part to make the world a little happier.
God knows we all need some holiday cheer.
Poor Henry shows up on my doorstep each day with all the stuff I ordered, then has to immediately reload his truck with outgoing boxes. He doesn’t seem to mind though.
He has stayed over every night since our delivery truck rendezvous. It was my time of the month, so we didn’t have any sex this week, but it was so comforting to fall asleep in his arms. I must have a similar effect on him because he’s only had one mild nightmare since the time in my studio. While he hasn’t fully made peace with his demons, he’s making progress.
Last night, he and Eugene came to an understanding. By that, I mean, Eugene sat on the opposite end of the couch we’d curled up on to watch a movie and simply stared menacingly. It was the closest they’d gotten without him growling or hissing. I’ll take it. I know they’ll never be besties—Henry claims he’s not a cat person—so I’ll settle for tolerance.
While Esme wasn’t thrilled about me quitting Myst, she understood my reasons. She surprised me by saying I’ll always have a job there if I change my mind, and that I’m welcome to visit the club if I’m ever in New York City. There’s a better chance of pigs flying, but I appreciate her offer. I don’t miss dancing now that Henry is in my life. Not only does he fill the void I’ve had for over fifteen years, but he entertains me.
It’s Saturday night. He’s off tomorrow, and I can’t wait to spend the entire day with him. I’ll need that connection to get me through the week. The anniversary of my mother’s passing looms ahead of me, darkening what little Christmas joy I’ve mustered. Tuesday marks sixteen years since we lost her. It will never be easy, but at least I have Henry to lean on this year.
Christmas is next Sunday. Dad and Greta will be home late Thursday night. That should give me enough time to paste on my happy face. While I love that he had the chance to go on vacation, it will be nice not to be alone in the house all day.
My phone rings, and I jump. Snatching it from the desk, I look at the screen. It’s Henry.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, Princess.” His deep voice makes my tummy flutter. “Do you need anything from town before I head up there?”
I picture everything that’s inside my fridge. “No, I think I’m good. Thank you.”
