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goddess worship doesn't make you a man, but it helps

Rosalie/Mike. Rosalie/Emmett.

What if Rosalie had shown up to fix Mike's car?

1. goddess worship doesn't make you a man, but it helps

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 1203   Review this Chapter

"Come on, Rose. Don't you want to go downstairs?"


Emmett sighs. He knows what this is about.

"Edward and Alice are going to be home soon..." he says carefully, and his wife's expression forms a scowl.

"I just don't feel like it."

"Why do you hate Bella so much?" He's trying to be gentle but this is something she's been doing for a long time now and he wishes she'd just get over it.

"I. Don't. Hate. Bella." She knows this isn't an answer, really. But she's tired of having to defend herself and to have Emmett attack her too is just too much.

"Just be nice," Emmett urges, and Rosalie growls.

"You just don't understand, do you? You have no idea why I hate being around her," she says, glaring.

"Well, I would, if you would just tell me," he responds pointedly, glaring back.

Voices from downstairs drift up to their ears. "Well, Mike said his car was broken, and I thought I'd be nice and offer to fix it."

"You're so insensitive!" Rosalie shrieks, and as soon as these words leave her mouth, she is gone -- running down the stairs, golden hair flying behind her. When Emmett looks out their second-story window, her body is only a pale blur heading toward the horizon.

As she runs she thinks, This will teach him, and a feeling of vindictive satisfaction fills her.

x x x

When he first steps out of his car, Mike Newton gets the shock of his life.

Someone is standing in front of him, but there hadn't been anyone there just seconds before.

His astonished gaze first lands on the shoes of a woman. He raises his eyes slowly, taking in the black leather boots under very tight denim jeans and a white Oxford shirt rolled up to the elbows. The top two buttons are undone, and – could it be? – a tiny peek of a lacy black bra shows through. And, cheeks blushing furiously, he finally looks up to see the face that belongs to this perfect body.

It is Rosalie Hale. But really, he thinks, who else could it be?

"Hello," the goddess says, a brilliant smile lighting up her features. Her voice is musical and somehow enchanting, and it's all Mike can do to keep himself from falling to his knees before her. It's the first time he's ever heard her speak, and it makes him a little disoriented. He reaches back to brace himself against the hood of his car.

"What – " His voice cracks embarrassingly and he flushes. He clears his throat and tries again. "Why are you here?"

She laughs quietly, and he can't help but feel as though she's laughing at him. It doesn't matter, though, because the sound of her low chuckle is too beautiful to waste.

"Oh, I just wanted to have a look at your car."

He blinks. That is the last thing he expects her to say. He's been hoping she might say something more along the lines of, "Oh, I was just bored. Can I hang out here?" Or even better: "I really like you, Mike. Wanna fool around?" He has to swallow hard before he can answer.

"You work on cars?"

But when he thinks about it, it's not incredibly surprising. Rosalie Hale is an angel sent to earth – why wouldn't she be able to do something as simple as fix a car?

Her only answer is a smile, almost as though she knows what he is thinking.

"Can I look at your car?"

How can he resist her? "Uh, sure…"

She walks around to the front of his car, hips swaying gracefully during those three seductive steps. Her body is so perfectly formed, and there isn't any denying her incredible sex appeal.

She looks over her shoulder, then, smirking. He quickly raises his gaze to her face, but he's not quick enough and they both know it. Turning around, she bends at the waist and lifts the hood of the car.

It's so hard for him not to stare.

She is still bent over, fixing this, messing with that, and Mike has an unbelievably good view.

Well, he thinks, he might as well enjoy it.

x x x

As Edward reads a CD cover in the living room of the Cullen house, he snickers.

"What is it?" asks Emmett idly, lounging nearby.

"Oh, Mike Newton is just admiring your wife's backside from different angles," replies Edward lightly.

The resounding roar following this statement is enough to shake the entire household. Edward continues to read his CD.

"Where is he?" Emmett demands, and seconds later, they are in the Volvo, five minutes away from Mike's house.

This should be fun, Edward thinks.

x x x

Mike is busy, and so he does not notice anything amiss, until:

"Get the fuck away from my wife."

Mike jumps almost two feet into the air. Once he lands he spins around, face to face with a huge, burly man towering a head above him.

Oh shit, he thinks. Emmett Cullen.

"Your -- your wife?" Mike squeaks, but by now he is past caring what his voice sounds like and much more preoccupied with the possibility of being crushed into the pavement.

"Yeah. So you -- " he jabs at Mike's chest, sending him back a step " -- need to stay -- " another jab " -- away."

"Hey man," Mike protests weakly, "I didn't know she was -- I mean, she came over here and -- "

Emmett takes a step forward, then another. He is now within Mike's personal bubble, and Mike is unable to do a thing about it. A noise rumbles from the ground, vibrating his entire body, and it takes Mike a second to realize that this is Emmett growling at him.

"You see this rock?" Emmett swings his muscled arm into the bit of space between them, holding up a boulder the size of Emmett's entire hand. "Pretend it's your head." Emmett's fingers close around the rock and, a second later, open again. Emmett tilts his hand sideways and fine gray dust falls out of his palm.

Mike's eyes widen in disbelief, and in the space of two breaths he is already running, already gone.

As he flees into his house, Rosalie grins and steps forward, hugging Emmett's broad waist.

"'Pretend it's your head'?" she teases, and Emmett laughs.

"He's a pansy, Rose. You've gotta pick them better."

And she can't help but laugh at his proud and happy expression. "My big, strong husband," she says, taking his hand and running back home.

What the hell, she thinks. Bella might as well know everything.