Whispers of Destiny: His Belated Love novel Chapter 194

Rosemary was all set to wash some peeled potatoes when, out of nowhere, she hit a slick spot on the floor. Her flip-flops must've had about as much grip as a used bar of soap, because down she went.

Before she hit the floor, she managed to take out everything on the counter with her, sending dishes and bowls clattering all over the place.

Quick on the draw, Martin swooped in to catch her, but he'd been squatting so long that his legs had gone numb. He lost his balance, couldn't hold on, and ended up taking a nosedive himself, turning into an impromptu human cushion at the very last second.

Even with Martin breaking her fall, the guy's gym-honed body was tough as nails, hardly softer than the actual floor.

Rosemary's head was spinning like she was on a merry-go-round, and she couldn't make heads or tails of the situation.

Clueless, she had no idea that her face was currently smooshed against the guy's six-pack, nor did she notice the crowd of onlookers that had gathered at the kitchen entrance.

She furrowed her brows and gave her head a tiny shake, trying to shake off the dizziness. The small movement made it look like she was nuzzling him, though.

Flat on his back, Martin had one hand still on Rosemary's waist, and as she moved, his Adam's apple bobbed reflexively. Whether it was pain or something else, his voice came out so raspy it was barely audible: "Rosemary, stop moving."

Before she could even process what was happening, someone yanked her up from Martin's embrace. The person was rough but didn't hurt her.

When she saw who it was, her instinct was to put some distance between them. Why was this guy, Maxwell, always popping up like a bad penny?

Maxwell had a frosty look on his face, his jawline tight as a guitar string. "How long were you planning to lie there?"

Martin, already back on his feet and ignoring the blood seeping from cuts made by the shattered porcelain, confronted Maxwell directly. Dropping his usual humble demeanor, he said, "Rosemary's my guest today, and I won't let her be harassed."

"Harassed?"

Facing off against Maxwell's overwhelming presence, Martin didn't back down an inch. "Anyone with eyes can see that Rosemary's not comfortable with you up in her space. Isn't what you're doing right now pretty much harassment?"

He pulled Rosemary to his side. "Today's a family dinner, and we didn't set a place for outsiders, Mr. Templeton, so please leave."

The air was thick with tension, as if a spark could ignite at any moment. Two tall dudes blocking the kitchen entrance made the small space feel even more claustrophobic.

Nina, sensing the hostility, tried to intervene: "Martin, Maxwell, let's talk this out..."

But nobody gave her the time of day.

With no other option, she turned to Archer for help, thinking that he, being the same age and a long-time friend, might have more luck getting through to them.

But when she turned around, Archer was nowhere to be found. She spun back to see him lounging on the couch, munching on an apple. When he caught her stare, he even had the nerve to ask, "Aunt Nina, this apple's pretty good. Where'd you get it?"

Nina forced a laugh: "...You like it? Grab some to take home later."

After that, she didn't count on him anymore and turned back to the two posturing men.

Maxwell eventually pulled Rosemary back: "Fine, we won't impose any longer."

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Martin didn't budge, pulling Rosemary slightly forward. "Here, everyone but you belongs. You're the outsider."

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