Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed novel Chapter 379

"Since you have commanded it..."

"Go back a sentence."

The manager said, "Room 1901 is checking out?"

York was like, "She checked out?! When?!"

"Just about ten minutes ago."

"Damn it—"

The manager was confused.

York: "Send those women away! They're getting on my nerves—"

Manager: "...That's not what you said when you called earlier."

On one end, life was a rollercoaster of thrills and heart-pounding excitement.

And for Roseanne, it was the same old routine.

Waking up naturally at seven.

Making breakfast, then heading out to the farmers' market.

Returning home at nine, she had barely stepped in when she heard Norris' amazement: "...I never would have guessed that apart from your scientific endeavors, you also have a green thumb!"

Pausing while taking off her shoes, two seconds later, a familiar voice came from the balcony: "Oh, Mr. Cole, you flatter me."

Owen.

Roseanne placed the groceries in the kitchen, poured two cups of freshly brewed pear cider, and walked out to the balcony.

There, Norris and Owen were sitting on garden stools, their backs to the balcony door, with seven or eight pots laid out in front of them. The soil was dug up, with the plants piled to the side.

"Dad, Mr. Reynolds, here's some pear cider."

"Anne, you're back? I thought I'd take advantage of my free day to repot these for you; some of the roots were rotting."

As he reached out for the cup, he noticed his hands were muddy, "Hold on, let me wash up first."

"Sure."

Owen, on the other hand, had been smarter— He was wearing disposable gloves.

He took them off and reached for his cup: "Thanks."

Roseanne: "When did you arrive, Mr. Reynolds?"

Seeing her embarrassed, Owen couldn't help but let it slide: "It was fine."

He paused, then added: "No big deal."

Except for the part where you insisted on tapping my head, ended up wrinkling my shirt, and messing up my hair, but no, nothing much.

Hearing this, Roseanne breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just... next time, don't grab a man's collar and ask him if he's okay with it."

Roseanne: "!"

Upon hearing this, her memory flooded back.

"Let me tap your head! You tapped mine, why can't I tap yours?"

The man helplessly dodged left and right.

But she caught his collar, pulling hard; they were inches from each other's faces.

Owen's breath hitched, and drunk as she was, she was oblivious, her mind set on tapping his head as a form of retaliation.

"Come on, just one tap... are you okay with that? Speak up, are you okay or not?!"