Chapter Eleven

Rose

Who the hell does Finlay Crossley think he is? And why has he been granted access to the country club after such a short residency in the community? Is he going to be everywhere I turn now? Good Lord, I hope not. Flushing the toilet, I take one deep breath and turn the latch from occupied to vacant. The sound of my heels meeting the tiled flooring bounces from the walls, and the nameless face of the restroom attendant who greeted me with a smile on entry sweeps the gold handle of the tap at the vanity in front of me to the side, allowing the flow of water to drizzle from the spout.

“Having a good day, ma’am?”

I purse my lips and shake my head. What is it with today? Now the hired help is addressing me in the bathroom. How rude. “You’re not supposed to speak to the guests.” I cup my hands to allow the attendant to squirt a dab of liquid in the centre.

She does. I guess she’s not completely untrained. “Are you new?” I best be ensuring she understands the rules.

She nods, pressing her lips tightly together. Her reflection in the mirror fills with a worried tension.

“Don’t speak to the guests or you’ll be unemployed. Understood?”

She nods once more.

“Good. I’ll tell nobody about this lapse in ethics. Towel, please.”

She hands one to me swiftly.

“Have a good day.” I pass back the towel. She’s lucky she spoke to me because if it had of been one of the other ladies, she’d have no job come morning.

Staring at the door, I grasp the handle and take a moment to breathe. I need to bring myself calm. I need to slow my thumping heart. I need to pull myself together.

There’s something about Finlay Crossley that has my heart hammering in my chest. My stomach filling with butterflies and my legs weakening. This is exactly the way I felt when he held me in his arms before he turned and ran towards the burning wreckage on the day of his accident. It’s also the same way I felt when I saw him in his hospital bed and I gave him back his log book and winning ticket. And again, when he stood near the fence at my house. I thought he’d found a way to locate me and would offer a thank you and then he’d be on his way. I managed to remain calm, level-headed … that was until he informed me he was my new neighbour.

Finlay Crossley makes me feel things I’ve never felt before and he does it by being in my presence. I have no control. I don’t understand it. And I don’t like it.

He’s looking right at me as I make my way towards the table. His rather large brown eyes connect with mine, and he smiles broadly before he lowers them, and I can sense them travelling down my body. Finlay has no manners. My breath catches in my throat, and I still when his eyes rebound back to mine.

“Hi,” he mouths.

“Pig,” I mouth back.

His head throws back, and his laughter fills the entirety of the room.

Shifting my attention to the back of my fiancé’s head, who is seated next to my father-in-law-to-be and across from where Finlay is seated, has me trying hard to calm the butterflies fluttering away in my stomach. It’s not working.

I turn my eyelashes downwards, stare at the red carpet, and take three slow and long breaths as I tilt my chin upwards.

“There’s my beautiful fiancée.” Slade stands, holding the back of the chair he already has presented in wait for me. His lips taste like beer when I lightly graze them, and then take my allocated seat beside him.

“Are you hungry?”

“Very.” I lay my hands against the table linen and without even thinking to do so, I begin playing with the four-carat princess-cut diamond taking up much of the space on my left ring finger.

The men talk between themselves, mainly business dealings, and although I pay attention to begin with, the conversation eventually becomes muffled as I drift off to the day I met Finlay trapped inside an old rickety utility as thick smoke barrelled from it. I was so frightened when I couldn’t open the door. I wish I’d never come to be on that street on the day it happened. I’d give anything to go back in time and not be there. Because ever since that day I’ve thought of Finlay. He consumes my thoughts. His face shows up in my dreams.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he croaked, running his hands through my hair. Before they cupped either side of my face. “I’m okay. You saved me,” he whispered.

His hands were warm, gentle and safe. He held me like I’d never been held before. His breath skimmed my lips and I could taste peppermint. He smelt of peppermint.

“I saved you,” I whispered back. I couldn’t look away from his widened, dark chocolate eyes.

They were kind, forgiving eyes.

“I’ve called the emergency services.” It was the voice of another, yet I didn’t see anyone else there but Finlay.

“You’re going to be okay,” I continued. I was sobbing, and I was trying to breathe air deeply into my lungs.

Why did I nestle my cheek firmly into his palm? I wanted to be close to him. I was so scared he was going to burn to death. I was scared I was going to lose him. How can you fear losing someone you don’t even know?

“Thank you for …” He didn’t finish the sentence he started. Instead, he called out, “Holy shit.” It was more a roar than a call—primal. He pulled away from me with urgency. “Shiiiiiit!” he growled. Bright orange flames spewed out from the hood of the car he was now looking at.

Don’t run back to the car. It’s like I knew he was going to. Don’t leave me.

“Roselette, are you okay?”

“Sorry.” My surroundings change from a smoke-filled sky to a room where cutlery bangs against china, and voices grow louder. The thick smoke clears, and the room becomes crisp.

“Darling, is something troubling you?”

“No. Not at all.” I fake a yawn and stretch my arms upwards. “Tired, I think.”

“Roselette, manners. Contain your tiredness. Nobody is interested in seeing such a display.” Slade scolds me in a way one would an out of control toddler running through the restaurant knocking down chairs.

“My apologies.” Why am I apologising?

“Accepted. Now smile and look pretty.”

“Of course, darling.”

I die a little more inside. Slade is just being Slade. A change I should be getting used to. So much is different about him now we’re engaged. He didn’t always speak to me in such a manner. Slade loves me. I know he does, but the way in which he speaks to me often leaves me feeling worthless. I must persevere. My family needs me to marry this man. He is after all the wealthiest there is.

Finlay stands abruptly. “I have other business to attend to. Thank you for the invitation. Slade. Mr Banter. Rose.” He turns on his heel and marches away like a man on a mission.

I wait for him to turn around or even to glance back, but he doesn’t.

A gold rimmed plate is placed down in front of me. Fish. I can barely tolerate it, but Slade is insistent I consume as much as possible to retain a youthful figure. After all, I turn twenty-three in a few months, and I’m undoubtedly aging. I’m made more aware of this because Slade reminds me frequently. The portion is large, and I stare down at the strips of pink flesh.

“I ordered you the salmon. I know how good it is for your diet.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Someone has to look after you.”

I grace him with the smile he expects in return. I also flutter my eyelashes as he leans forwards and briefly places his lips to mine.

“Eat,” he instructs, taking his knife and fork into his hands.

Four-hundred-gram eye fillet, medium rare, oozes pink liquid as Slade cuts into it. How I would love to devour a steak right now. Moving flakes of the fish around the plate, I again drift back to the day Finlay burst into my world with his blazing accident.

“What are you doing?”

He coughed, but I continued pummelling him in his back.

“Hey. Quit it.” Hunched over, he tried to get away from me as he coughed constantly.

“I have you. Just keep walking.” My hand quivered when I wrapped my arm around his. I was petrified.

Why did I chase him? Why was I standing beside a burning car? Why did I care so much for him?

“Run.” His voice was hoarse when he tried to choke this out.

“I can’t leave you.” The back of my throat burned.

“Run.” His tone was fiercer the second time. It was protective.

“Okay,” I spluttered as my arm slipped from his, and I reefed off my heels so as I could run my fastest. I ran like my life depended on it. I had to get away.

Boom! The explosion was loud. I fell to the grass with tears streaming down my overheated face. “Noooo,” I screamed so loud I could taste blood on my tongue.

There’s no way he’d survive that. My heart ached. It was a pain I’d never known.

“What is wrong with you today, Roselette? Father, I’m awfully sorry about Roselette’s behaviour.” Slade sounds as if he is far off in the distance.

Rotating my head, I’m faced with one angry glare. “Roselette, what is wrong with you? You’ve barely touched your dinner. You’re absent-minded. You’re not yourself at all.”

“You look lost, dear.” Mr Banter stares at me.

“I’m so sorry. I’m extremely tired today.”

“Go. You’re ruining my lunch. I’m sick of looking at you.”

Now I’ve gone and upset Slade. Great. The last thing I need is him with a bee in his bonnet.

“I mean it. Go now. I can’t stand to look at you.”

What have I done? I need to keep myself at a distance from Finlay Crossley, because if I don’t I might just ruin the only chance my father has at reclaiming his losses and keeping his standing in this community. My entire family’s future is counting on me marrying Slade.