Page 166 of Saltwater Cowboy

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent.

For the first time all day, she was actually looking at me.

And now that I had her attention, I wasn’t about to waste it.

Rose held my gaze, her expression unreadable, but I could see the way her fingers curled tightly into her sleeves—like she was bracing herself.

I took another step closer, careful, measured. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

She let out a sharp exhale. “Good. Because I don’t.”

That stung more than it should have.

I nodded slowly, forcing myself to stay steady. “But I need you to know that what happened. When I agreed to go out with Marie again…”

Rose’s arms tightened around herself. “You told me you weren’t going to see her again. That she wasn’t your type.”

“I panicked.”

She let out a sharp breath. “Yeah. You’ve mentioned that. Repeatedly.”

“I don’t do well in high-pressure situations.”

Her eyes flashed. “That’s such bullshit, Wells.”

Her voice was raised now, the frustration in it slicing right through me.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face. “I should’ve just been honest with her. I just… I don’t like hurting people.”

Rose let out a humorless laugh, turning her gaze toward the window. “Well, congratulations. You might not have hurt Marie, but you sure as hell hurt me.”

My chest tightened. It physically hurt hearing that.

She looked back at me, her expression cold, controlled. “Whatever this was,” she said, motioning between us, “it’s done. I’m strictly your employee now. No more movie nights. No more post-sex cuddles. At the end of the day, I will eat dinner with you and then spend the rest of the time in my room.”

I stared at her, my pulse hammering in my ears. “You don’t mean that.”

Her expression didn’t waver. “I do.”

“No, you don’t.” I took a step closer, my voice lower now, more desperate than I wanted it to be. “Rose, don’t switch this off like it was nothing.”

She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “Maybe you can’t. But I have to.”

The finality in her voice hit me like a gut punch.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something, anything to make her see that I hadn’t meant to hurt her, that we meant more to me than I’d ever let on.

But she was already moving.

She crossed the room, reaching for the doorknob. It didn’t budge. She exhaled sharply and knocked, hard. “Blythe! Open the damn door.”

Nothing.

“Blythe,” she called again, more forcefully.

Still nothing.

She turned toward me, eyes blazing. “I am not doing this right now.”