Page 73 of In This Together

Tim chuckled. ‘Well, now, I do have certain lady friends from time to time.’

Rosalie laughed, more at Seth shaking his head and saying, ‘All right, Casanova, let’s leave her to it.’

Tim nodded. ‘Bathroom’s down the hall, and the vinyl collection is much bigger in the music library.’

‘You have a music library?’ Rosalie asked.

Tim shrugged. ‘For want of a better name for it. Help yourself to a look around, it’s the next room from yours.’

‘Thank you, Tim. For the room, the food, for having us.’ And thank the lord this home was so much better than she had expected.

‘Nonsense. Thank you for bringing my boy home. I thought he was going to re-enlist for a time there.’

Re-enlist? In the military?Rosalie looked at Seth leaning against the door frame, his guitar case still in hand, his hair rugged from where he had pulled his fingers through it out on the porch. The thought of him ever risking his life seemed as brave as it was terrifying.

‘I’m pleased he didn’t do that,’ she found herself saying, all the while looking at Seth.

‘Do you have everything you need?’ he asked.

Everything.She had air in her lungs, warmth in her heart, a beautiful home full of love and music.

She nodded and watched Seth walk away with Tim, listening to the father and son banter as they walked down the hall.

As Rosalie took in the enticing view from her bedroom window again, the breeze cooling her skin, she realised she had never been in a home quite like this before. Not her childhood home. Not her own home.

Here, she could imagine homecooked meals, children riding the two brown horses outside, helping her little girls with their homework, family nights eating s’mores by a fire in the yard. What a different life that would be to her own.

After unpacking a few bits and pieces to cover her for the three nights she would be staying at the ranch, Rosalie put on an untarnished pair of Louboutin sandals and took her toiletries in search of the bathroom to freshen up.

Walking to the end of the hall, as Tim had directed her to do, she reached out for what she suspected was the knob of the bathroom door, then jumped back in shock as it was pulled open from the inside.

As the bellow of steam cleared, she was faced with a sight that dried her lips and made her mouth open as she ogled shamelessly. Seth was naked but for the white towel tied around his waist and the dog tags that always hung around his neck.

Her gaze went first to the spot where the towel was tied, then to the cut of his muscles just above his hips. She followed the light trail of hair up his navel and his chiselled abdomen, to where the hair spread across his toned chest. His jaw flexed as he swallowed, then her hungry eyes met his and the yearning she felt was unmistakable.

‘Oh my goodness. I was… Me, I… You’re wet.’

‘I showered,’ he said, stating the obvious, his eyes still fixed to hers.

‘Right. Me too. I mean, not yet. I’m going to. Freshen up, I mean.’

He nodded. ‘Bathroom’s all yours. Don’t take hours, grub’s up.’

And just like that, his attractiveness was gone. As if she would take hours,she thought, rolling her eyes as hisverynice back walked away from her.

* * *

Rosalie could smell Tim’s smoking grill as it wafted in through the bedroom window. She could hear the guys outside – Frankie, Billy, Tim and Seth. Whilst she would have preferred a colourful salad ordinarily, she had to admit to herself that she was positively salivating.

Tottering in her heels to prevent any indentations in the hardwood floor of the hallway, Rosalie was making her way outside when she remembered the music room Tim had invited her to look around.

It was the size of the bedroom she was staying in. Tim hadn’t been exaggerating. Two walls were full of vinyl records. The kind of collection it would take years to amass, even for a true lover of music.

The flooring, like in her guest room, was wood but a large square rug lay in the middle and on it sat two high-back leather chairs. Between the chairs was an old record player in the style of the fifties, with its lid open, ready to accept music. Five guitars – acoustic, electric and bass – hung on a third wall and around them were black and white prints of Randy and his band Armstrung playing live. She moved closer, inspecting them, so intricately she could see the beads of sweat on Randy’s brow. Tim was clearly a very proud father, as he should be.

Then she noticed on the wall behind her more family photographs of Tim, Randy, presumably their mother, and a young Seth. He was cute as heck – all full cheeks, not like the streamline structured face he had now, a mop of dark hair and striking brown eyes, even then. He had most resemblance to Tim, where Randy had more of a look of their mom; softer eyes and a more pronounced nose.

Next to the family pictures was a large portrait of Seth in his full military uniform – formal breasted jacket and standard issue hat. He was clean-shaven and looked strapping and proud. In truth, she was in awe of Seth and men like him, who would knowingly go into danger to serve their country.

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