Page 22 of My Rose

Until now.

He walked around to the back of his car, popped the trunk open, and took out a duffle bag. “Put this on, and give me that one.”Another jacket? Seriously?

“This one is fi—”

“That’s a lie. You keep wrinkling your nose up every time you move. I can smell the smoke from here, Rose, and it isn’t the kind that’s from being near a bonfire.” He was maybe a foot away from me, holding out yet another jacket that smelled exactly like his other one. Suspicion spread over my face, but I did as he said and took the jacket off, passing it to him as I accepted the one he held out for me.

He examined me when I finished zipping it up. “Better,” he said as he tossed the other jacket behind him, leaving it in the dirt.

“Someone is going to run over that, maybe I should go back and give it to him?”

“If that someone is me, then, yes. I planned on it.” He hated August. I saw it in the way they played pool together the other night, and I saw it now. Whatever their history was, it wasn’t good. It also wasn’t the type of thing I wanted to pry into…yet. I was still trying to wrap my head around Briggs being a newsworthy heir to a billion-dollar business.

“So you don’t want to go up to the bonfire, then?” I asked, angling my head back to the fire while keeping my eyes on him.

“Do you?” I bit down on my lip, contemplating. Did I want August to see me in Briggs’ jacket? Did I want him to ask where his other one was? Would he even notice I’d left at this point?

I turned and looked back at them—the several dozens of people all drinking around a fire. It was stifling up close—theash, the smoke, the fire itself. I didn’t notice how overwhelming it all was until I stood back away from it. Even the alcohol couldn’t suppress my fear of fire, and as two guys tossed more debris into the flames, I couldn’t hide the wince or the shudder that rolled through me. I didn’t notice I’d physically recoiled back until my ass hit Briggs’ thigh.

His voice lowered. “That’s a no. Let’s get out of here.”

I peered at him just over my shoulder. “You really are the worst babysitter, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, Rose. Do you think she needs any more attention on her right now?” As if on cue, Clarissa burst into laughter, her arms wrapping around August’s arm as he continued playing. She didn’t really look taken by him. If anything, she looked like she was just here for fun, which was possibly the brunt of her entire personality—all fun and games. Briggs didn’t look like thegamestype. Perhaps their relationshipwaspurely an obligation. An obligation he didn’t seem to want to act on at that moment. No, in that moment—the only obligation, the only person he seemed to show any interest in—was me.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to watch me, either. I’m a big girl.” I hadn’t realized I was still pressed to his thigh until his warm breath rolled over my neck, his head cocked down at me. He let out a chuckle full of mischief as I turned and stepped backward. Two full, broad steps away.

“You are, huh?” He looked amused, his thumb rubbing along his bottom lip, his heated gaze never leaving my body.

“Yes. I am.”

He leaned back along the hood of his car, his leg crossing over the other. “I’m not going to point out all the ways I’ve helped you recently. But that isn’t why I was suggesting we leave.”

“You’re starting to sound more likemybabysitter. And I never asked to be watched over.”

He shrugged. “I never said I wanted to be your babysitter.”

I rubbed my sweating palms along my jeans, ignoring the intense shiver that rolled down my spine. “I don’tneedyour eyes on me to feel safe. I can take care of myself.”

I was starting to come off as a brat a lot more than I intended to, and even as I said what I did, I knew I shouldn’t have. His eyes being on mehadmade me feel rather safe lately. Admittedly, the day I awkwardly hugged him in the graveyard had changed something in me. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but it was the first night in years that I didn’t dream of flames engulfing my body, of my parents yelling my name, of them telling me to run.

I looked back up at him from where my eyes had fallen to my sneakers again. Instead of an empty void, he was still standing there. The hard lines of his jaw softened along with his posture up against his car. His voice was deeper like the set of his gaze on me as he said, “My eyes being on you isn’t a need for me, Rose. It’s a want.”

All words abandoned me as we walked through the woods. His idea of leaving the party wasn’t where I pictured he meant, but I was kind of happy it was where we’d ended up.

The bottle was emptying quickly between the two of us in mostly silence, and when I giggled and took off my shoes right when the snow started to fall, I think we both knew I had reached a certain limit.

“You should take your shoes off! The snow feels great!”

“It just started snowing, Rose. Your feet are submerged in dirt.” He pointed at the ground.

I blew a raspberry at him as I skipped ahead, the bottle clinking against the zipper of the jacket he made me put on. I slowed and wrapped my arms around myself, smiling as I took in a loud whiff along the sleeves. He definitely saw that. I was too drunk for this, but the citrus smell, goddamn—it was too good to resist. It paired so well with the whiskey.

“Maybe I should take you home.” His tone was all boss and no play.No fun.Not like the cocky grin that spread across his face making his dimple pop as I took another deep inhale against his jacket.

“What scent is this? Seriously? Like, really,Briggs.Do you shower with oranges?” I was spinning with my arms wide under a parting of trees where the snow was falling more heavily—a bottle of mostly gone whiskey in one hand and my shoes in the other. Maybe the ground didn’t have snow on it to warrant taking my shoes off, but it was sofreeing.

Until I tripped backward.

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