Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(24)

I sit there quietly, shock washing over me as I wait for Nigel to return with my fresh beer. Contemplating what just happened because holy hell, that was unexpected.

As crazy as it sounds, I think I was just saved from a nasty confrontation by Violet. Meaning somehow, some way, Rose told her sister what happened between us.

Un-f*cking-believable.

Chapter Seven

Rose

“You have some serious explaining to do.” Violet sends me a pointed look just before she picks up her coffee cup and sips from it.

We’re at a crowded little bakery not too far from my hotel, eating decadent pastries and drinking deliciously bitter coffee while sitting at a tiny table right next to the window that faces the street. The sidewalks are crowded with Saturday shoppers, all of them bright-eyed and dressed to perfection.

All while my hair is still damp from the quick shower I took before I came here. I’m wearing skinny jeans and a boring plain blue T-shirt I threw on as I dressed in a hurry in order to meet Violet on time. I have no makeup on, a cardinal sin according to our grandma, but I don’t really care.

I awoke earlier this morning from a crazy sex dream involving me, Caden, and a swimming pool to an endless stream of texts from Violet, basically demanding that I meet her here at the bakery at ten, no trying to get out of it. I replied that I would meet her only if she wouldn’t badger me with questions until I’d had my first cup of coffee.

More like my first sip. The cup barely touched my lips before she said something, asking for an explanation.

But how can I explain what happened yesterday when I barely understand it myself?

“I already told you what happened.” Briefly. Sort of. Last night she saw how rumpled I appeared when I returned from the bathroom, the buttons done up wrong on my dress—God, could I be any more foolish?—and immediately she was suspicious. I’d already told her I knew Caden, so she suspected it had something to do with him.

And she would be right.

“You told me what? That you know Whitney’s boyfriend? That you disappear for a solid fifteen minutes only to return looking a little, hmm … how should I put it—disheveled? That’s the polite term, at least.” She takes a bite out of the gooey fruit tart she ordered, little bits of powdered sugar sticking to her lips.

I may as well tell her and get this over with. “He’s the one who walked away from me,” I admit, my voice low, my appetite waning despite the outrageously delicious chocolate éclair I’ve nibbled on. Can’t remember the last time I indulged in something so sinful.

Maybe last night? When you let a handsome stranger finger you to orgasm in a bathroom?

My cheeks bloom with heat just thinking about it.

“Wait a minute.” Violet licks the sugar from her lips and leans in closer. “Caden is the guy who ditched you in Cannes? When you were naked in the pool?”

Could she broadcast that any louder? “Yes. He is.” Deciding to hell with it, I grab the éclair from my plate and bite into it with relish, the combination of the cream filling, the flaky pastry, and the chocolate frosting like a little explosion of heaven in my mouth.

Still not as good as that orgasm I had last night, though.

“Rose. You’re messing around with a taken man.”

I make a face. She makes it sound so sordid. “I am not.”

“You are. He’s Whitney’s boyfriend,” Violet stresses, looking appalled. As if she has any room to talk, torn between two men like she was not too long ago.

“No, he’s not her boyfriend. At least, he said he’s not.” Doubt clouds my brain and I take another drink of coffee, feeling everything within me perking up from the jolt of caffeine. But along with the jolt comes reality.

What if Whitney really is his girlfriend? I’d feel like a home wrecker. I’d be a home wrecker. And that sucks.

“And when did he tell you this? When the two of you snuck off and did … whatever?” Violet arches a brow.

Busted. “Fine. I went to the bathroom. He followed me. End of story.” I take another bite before I tell her everything. I’m so tempted to spill my guts, but some things are better left unsaid.

“He followed you into the bathroom at the White Swan.” She shakes her head, a sly smile forming. “You are so bad, Rose. Whitney’s my friend.”

“And Caden isn’t her boyfriend,” I say again.

“According to Caden. Whitney might have a different perspective,” Violet points out.

I say nothing. Just continue to munch on my éclair as if I don’t have a care in the world.

Funny thing is, I don’t feel bad about what happened. I believed Caden when he said Whitney wasn’t his girlfriend. Maybe that’s me being a naïve fool, but they just didn’t give off that proper boyfriend/girlfriend vibe. Plus, the sparks between us were just too abundant to ignore.

I left the table on purpose. To see if he’d follow, and he did. I took that as a sign. That something was meant to happen between us. Silly, I suppose, but I was also buzzed after drinking three beers in quick succession. A girl’s allowed to do stupid stuff every once in a while. That was my one stupid move.

I should probably leave it at that.

“Was he as shocked to see you as you were to see him?” Violet presses.

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much.” First there had been too much kissing, and then he said all of those deliciously dirty things … I still can’t believe some of the things he said and did.