Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2) - Tessa Bailey Page 0,29

I saw the freckle, right in the crease where your ear meets your head. I leaned in, kissed it, and you told me you loved me for the first time. Whispered it while they stacked the chairs around us. Do you remember that? I was convinced that freckle was magic. The secret way I made you fall in love with me. When you left, my first thought was, I should have kissed that freckle more. I bet you didn’t know you married a ridiculous man. Will you please just consider the possibility that I love you more than you realize or than I’m capable of expressing with words?

If that’s too much to ask, suffice it to say, I’m proud to have you as my wife.

I’m proud of the person you were that night at homecoming, the person you became when I was away, and most of all, the person you are now. You’re incredible. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you often enough.

Yours,

Dominic

The letter fluttered into Rosie’s lap. Her fingers were tingling too much to hold the piece of paper for a second longer. You’re incredible.

In that moment, that’s exactly how she felt. Light and heavy all at once. Substantial.

Rosie was a strong woman and liked to think she didn’t need a pat on the back. But Dom’s letter was just truth. It was revealing and she couldn’t deny the new energy flowing through her, knowing she made someone proud.

I should have kissed that freckle more.

She could almost feel Dominic’s lips behind her ear, whispering those words that made her feel so desirable. Not as a sexual object, but as a singular woman. As Rosie. A hot mudslide seemed to break loose inside her, traveling all the way to her stomach. She suddenly felt so full. So aware of every inch of her skin and every breath entering and leaving her lungs. Her thighs felt uber-present on the seat, covered in goose bumps, and she moved them around, just to feel the soft, worn-in material of the driver’s seat rasp against her panty hose. She tipped her head back and recalled that night at homecoming, her lips lifting into a smile. This was how she’d felt then. Like a woman. Like the object of someone’s notice.

Important.

Real.

She could do anything when she felt like this.

Heart trapped in her throat, Rosie read the letter again. And again. She was preparing to read it a fourth time when a knock on the window shaved approximately nine years off her life.

Joe the security guard waved from the other side of the glass. Thankfully he kept his flashlight averted, because she didn’t need the sweet older gentleman getting an eyeful of what Dominic’s letter was doing to her body. Her nipples were in rigid points, her thighs squeezed together, those tiny muscles inside of her bearing down, searching for that invading thickness her husband usually provided.

“You all right in there, Rosie?” came his muffled voice through the window.

“Yes,” she croaked, stuffing the letter back into the envelope. “I was just getting ready to leave—thanks for checking on me.”

Joe nodded. “Wouldn’t want to catch hell from Dominic,” he said almost absently, throwing her a wink. “Or miss out on that extra fifty dollars a week he gives me to make sure you get to your car safely.”

“He . . . what?”

“I’ve been putting it into a college fund for my granddaughter.” He chuckled. “She wants to do something with computers. Hell if I understand any of it. You take care, Rosie!”

Shell-shocked, Rosie stared at Joe’s retreating back. Until he turned around and waved her into action. Fingers still tingling, she started the car and pulled out of the lot, grateful the road back to Port Jefferson was mostly empty this time of night, because no way should she have been operating a motor vehicle. On her way through town, she found herself taking a detour down one of the side streets, just off Main, and stopping in front of the empty commercial space she’d been dreaming about since it appeared for sale in the classifieds.

Tonight was the first time she’d actually come to see it in person—and it was everything she’d hoped. It was out of her price range, even with the GoFundMe donations, but it had been sitting vacant for a while. At the very least, she could afford to make an offer, even if it was significantly lower than the asking price. The storefront might be a little closed off, but eventually, when she had