Fowler Sisters: Stealing Rose Part 7

I wash my hands, fighting the bitter disappointment of replacing the scent of Rose's p.u.s.s.y with the sterile disinfectant smell of the liquid soap. I dry them and take a deep breath, counting to ten before I exit the bathroom, making my way back to the table. Rose is sitting there between Violet and Whitney, her cheeks still rosy, her hair tucked behind her ears, showing off that beautiful face. She doesn't so much as look at me when I sit in my chair on the other side of Whitney. I grab my beer and polish it off with one swallow.

"Want another one, mate?" asks Ryder's friend ... Nigel. Right. Nigel.

"That would be great, yeah." I reach for my back pocket, ready to pull out my wallet, but Nigel waves me off.

"I'll get this round. I'm out anyway." He holds up his empty gla.s.s before he slides off the chair and heads toward the bar.

"Where were you?"

I turn to find Whitney studying me with a suspicious gleam in her eyes, her tone accusatory.

"Bathroom. Then I had a phone call I had to take."

"Who was it?"

Since when is it her business to ask me questions like that? "No one you know." I am a consummate liar. It's so easy to slip into my lies, they feel like a second skin.

"Hmm." She doesn't look like she believes me. Like I give a s.h.i.+t. "Rose was gone too."

Unease creeps down my spine. "So?"

"So you were both gone. For a long time. And her dress is b.u.t.toned up wrong. It wasn't before."

f.u.c.k. I feel everything inside of me wilt at Whitney's words. As discreetly as possible I check out Rose, my gaze falling to her chest. Yes, the b.u.t.tons are done up wrong, and I feel like a s.h.i.+t that I didn't catch that before she escaped the bathroom.

"Are you accusing me of something?" I ask Whitney, my voice mean. I'm irritated that she's calling me out.

"I don't know. Did you do something?" she returns.

"Just say what you want to say, Whit." I sound weary. I feel weary. "Let's get this over with."

She parts her perfectly glossed lips, swinging her hair back in a calculated move I've seen her perform before. The girl is gorgeous and she knows it, but she's also a world-cla.s.s pain in the a.s.s and has driven every guy who's been remotely interested in her far away with her needy, b.i.t.c.hy att.i.tude.

I'm a s.h.i.+t. I put up with her, give her what she wants in bed, and then move on. What she sees in me, I have no idea. I don't deserve her kindness. I don't deserve anyone's kindness.

"Whitney." Violet rests her hand on Whitney's arm, startling her. "Tell my sister about the time you slapped that guy across the face at a party. I was trying to tell her about it, but I just can't do the story justice like you can."

Whitney's eyes narrow as she contemplates me, her expression tight. She doesn't have to say a word but I know she's thinking, You just got off easy. She turns to look at Violet, her smile back in place, her voice light and with the slightest hint of a drawl. "Violet, darling, there have been two face-slapping incidents. Which one are you talking about?"

Violet tilts her head, her gaze traveling to mine for the briefest moment, sending me a knowing look. "Tell us about both of them," she says encouragingly, sending me a wink before she returns her attention to Whitney.

I sit there quietly, shock was.h.i.+ng over me as I wait for Nigel to return with my fresh beer. Contemplating what just happened because holy h.e.l.l, 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.u.c.king-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 Sat.u.r.day 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-s.h.i.+rt 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 s.e.x 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 b.u.t.tons done up wrong on my dress-G.o.d, 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 appet.i.te waning despite the outrageously delicious chocolate eclair 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 o.r.g.a.s.m 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 h.e.l.l with it, I grab the eclair 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 o.r.g.a.s.m 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 eclair 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 naive 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.

I want to experience them again.

No. No, you really don't.

"Ha. You didn't talk much." Violet shakes her head. "This is just so scandalous. You go from being a hermit hiding in your hotel room to getting it on in a pub bathroom. Talk about a complete turnaround."

"Violet. Please." I glance around the bakery, but no one is paying us any mind. It's a late Sat.u.r.day morning and the place is busy, but everyone is too wrapped up in their own little worlds to hear my sister broadcast that I fooled around in a restaurant bathroom. "So ... do you know anything about him?" I'm trying to play this cool, but it's probably a waste of time. Besides, I'm talking to Violet and she won't judge. Not too harshly, at least.

"About who? Caden?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes. Caden." I know nothing beyond that he's gorgeous, he has a voice that can melt me with a few whispered words, he can kiss like no other, and he knows his way around a woman's body.

Meaning, I'd love to see him again.

"Not really. I talked about him some with Whitney. You know what's weird? She's never mentioned him to me before."

"What do you mean?" I frown.

"I mean, she never even uttered his name until I met him last night," Violet explains.

"Really?" I'm eager for any bit of gossip I can discover about Caden. "If they were serious, she'd surely mention him to you, right? Aren't you two pretty good friends?"

"Yes. We've become close since Ryder and I came to London." Violet nods, takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee. "She said a few things about him right before you took off to the bathroom."

"Like what?" I finish off the eclair because h.e.l.lo, it's amazing. I'll just skip lunch. Maybe dinner, too. I don't know. This isn't a smart move, meeting my sister at a bakery full of pastries. Now I'm tempted to buy a box of those gorgeous, colorful, and delicate macarons that are so popular and take them back to the hotel room so I can snack on them later.

"That they're old friends, they'd known each other forever, went to school together in the States." Violet smiles. "Listen to me-I sound like I plan on living here forever."

"You'd better not," I mutter, determined to get the conversation back to Caden. "Isn't Whitney from New York?"

"Yes, and so is Caden."

"What's his last name?" A little Google could go a long way if I had more concrete facts.

"I don't know. She never mentioned it." Violet tilts her head. "Tell me what happened in that bathroom last night."

"You do not want to know." She doesn't. I don't want any major details about her s.e.x life and I know she feels the same. "Let's just say it was an enlightening experience."

"And you'd like to see him again." Violet smirks.

I shrug. "Maybe. I don't know." Yes, I would. But I don't want to sound too eager.

"I'm going to call Whitney later, try and drill her for information," Violet starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

"Don't do that. Please. I don't want it to be too obvious. I think ... I know she suspected something last night."

"Of course she did. That's why I interrupted her little conversation with Caden. I didn't want it to erupt into some sort of drunken argument. Because she was definitely drunk, though I don't know about Caden."

He'd seemed relatively sober, but my perception could have been off. "Yeah, well, you probably shouldn't go digging for information and get her suspicions up."

"Do you have no faith in me? I know how to dig without being obvious." Violet laughs, but I don't.

Maybe I don't want her to find out anything else. I sort of like how mysterious Caden is. I know nothing beyond his first name, the taste of his lips, and the wonderful things he can do to me with his fingers.

And I'm thinking maybe that's plenty enough.

Violet and I part after our little discussion at the bakery. She has to go meet Ryder for whatever reason and I don't want to go back to my boring hotel room on such a beautiful Sat.u.r.day, so I decide to wander through the shops, trying to take my mind off what happened last night.

Shopping doesn't help, though. I come upon a gorgeous little lingerie shop, and every s.e.xy little bit of lace and silk I admire makes me wonder if Caden would like it. I don't need any new lingerie, but that doesn't stop me from buying a handful of lace thong panties, all in a variety of bright, fun colors, though I also get a basic black pair. They're thin enough that a man with strong hands could probably tear them right off my body.

Clearly my imagination is running rampant today.

Plus, every tall man with light brown hair I see I immediately think is Caden. Stupid, really, but I can't help it. He plays heavily on my mind, and I keep reliving that moment when he followed me last night. When I glanced in the mirror and saw him standing there, his expression thunderous, his gaze dark and unwavering. How we never said much beyond a few words before he pulled me into his arms and kissed me senseless, then stroked me into oblivion.

Does he think I'm easy? Is the conquest completed and he's ready to move on? What does he do? Who is he exactly, and why was he in Cannes? G.o.d, was he there with Whitney and after our weird little encounter, ran off to return to her?

No. Of course not. If Whitney had been there, Violet would have seen her and mentioned it.

But what if he has another girlfriend? Maybe he has a woman in every city. Maybe he's a world-traveling trust fund baby who has time to kill and plenty of money to spend. I could do the same if I wanted. In fact, I'm doing exactly that right now, pretending to work at Fleur while I hide out. From what, I'm not sure.

My boring life? My responsibilities? Myself?

Or all of the above?