by Laura Drewry
Oh, he’d noticed.
She didn’t seem to have any trouble looking at anyone else, didn’t seem the least bit unsure of herself as she spoke, but in that second or two when she glanced his way, she seemed to be nothing but a ball of nerves. And could he blame her?
Shit, harassment suits got filed for less than what he’d said to her outside.
Idiot.
“Come on, Finn.” Liam sighed. “Let’s get back upstairs before our paintbrushes harden.”
“Yeah, okay.”
After chugging the rest of their beers, they added their glasses to the tray and started toward the lobby, with Finn calling back a final shot: “Don’t be a dick, Ro!”
“I’m not!” Too late; Finn and Liam were already gone, leaving Ro on his own with the dishes.
Unlike his brothers, Ronan didn’t mind being on kitchen duty; in fact, he kind of liked it. Okay, he didn’t like doing the dishes, but liked to cook, and he’d only get to do it for a couple more days until their chef, Olivia, returned. So with his fresh-caught halibut cleaned and waiting in the fridge, he finished up the dishes, flung the towel over his shoulder, and headed back into the pub to find the brandy for dessert.
“Oh!” Hope came through the door from the lobby just as he came in from the kitchen, making them both stop abruptly. “Sorry, I, uh—”
She still wouldn’t look at him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her gaze twitched from his forehead to his chin to his throat and back to his forehead, but she never looked directly at him. And what did he do? He just stood there like a stupid lump, blocking her way and listening to her stammer.
“I just…uh…I came to…to…I left my bag.”
It took another second but she lifted her chin a little and finally—finally—looked at him. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person in the world to like, and most of the time he couldn’t have cared less, but this time…what? Why should he care how she looked at him, or if she looked at him at all? He shouldn’t. He didn’t.
Yes, he did. What the hell?
Don’t be a dick, Ro.
Right. No being a dick and no talking about dildos. How difficult could that be?
“Your bag? Yeah, it’s, uh, right here, I’ll just…” He blinked hard, turned, and reached for the bag, but lifting it took a hell of a lot more effort than he expected, and he nearly dropped the damn thing. “Jesus, what the hell d’you have in this thing?”
“I like to be prepared.” She took the bag and swung it up on her shoulder like it was nothing, even though Ronan fully expected it to knock her over. “Thanks.”
She’d already turned around and was halfway through the lobby before Ronan’s brain kicked in and sent him after her.
“Wait!” Shit, he hadn’t meant to yell so loud. He stopped a good five or six feet away from her, waited for her to turn, then wound the dish towel around his hands. “Sorry. Listen, I, uh…I’m sorry for what I said before. I don’t know where that came from.”
Tucking her long blond hair behind her ear, Hope looked down at the floor and…Oh, thank God…smiled. Wasn’t anything huge— hell, it barely tipped up the corners of her mouth—but it was something. And when she lifted her eyes back to his…well, holy flying shit, Batman, that soft, barely-there smile brought out all kinds of stupid in him.
He couldn’t decide if he should step closer to her or back the hell up. Should he tell her that the second she looked up at him, every thought drained from his brain—every thought except for how much he liked it when she looked at him—or should he just keep his mouth shut and focus more on tamping down the fire that suddenly flamed in his veins?
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
In all the times he’s apologized in his life, he hadn’t had a woman smile at him—at least not until he’d repeated it half a dozen times. And even then those smiles always seemed to be saying something like “Whatever, asshole.” But Hope’s, small as it was, seemed real. Still nervous, but real. Genuine.
And cute as hell.
“That’s okay,” she said finally. “I could tell you a thing or two about a town in Saskatchewan.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but he didn’t. Instead, he dragged his gaze away from hers so he could think clearly again, then cleared his throat.
“And, uh, about that conference call. That was…the whole day, I mean…yeah, it wasn’t good. There was a bunch of shi—stuff—that got me all riled up before I even looped into that call, but still…I shouldn’t have said it.”
When he finally looked at her again, he was shocked to see she was still smiling. And that made him smile. Shit, he might even have blushed a little.
“So, yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry about that too.”
“All right then.” Hope’s voice was soft and low as she nodded slowly. “So does that mean we won’t have to bleep out too many f-bombs when we send the tapes to editing?”
This time he blushed all the way up to his scalp.
“Well…” Wincing a little, Ronan lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I’m not making any promises on that, but I’ll try.”
An awkward silence hung between them until Ro thumbed over his shoulder and took a step back. By that time she was so busy looking at everything else in the room but him that she was probably happy to have him go.
He’d half turned away from her when her voice stopped him.
“In the movie The Wolf of Wall Street, they drop the f-bomb five hundred and six times.” She blurted the words out so fast that Ronan had to wonder how long she’d been waiting to let them loose.
“Is that right?”
She lifted her hands, palms up, and nodded, her eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe it herself. “That’s almost three times a minutes, you know. World record.”
“Is that right?” Ronan wasn’t sure if she was warning him or daring him, so he tipped his head a bit and smirked. “So…what? You want to shoot for five hundred and seven? Seems like a lot, but get Finn and me in the same room and you never know.”
“What?” she cried. “No, I didn’t mean…I just…you…oh!”
Her whole face turned about six shades of pink, and holy jumpin’ Judas, Ronan had never seen anything as pretty as that.
“You’re kidding.” Her quiet laugh only lasted a second before it faltered. “Oh God, you were kidding, right? You weren’t serious, were you?”
The longer he hesitated, the wider her eyes got, until he finally gave in and chuckled.
“I was kidding.”
“Oh, thank God.” Her laugh was a little more relaxed this time as she wrapped her hands around the straps of her bag and began backing toward the door. “I think I’ll go finish unpacking before I give you any more ideas.”
“Right. Yeah. Okay.” Why couldn’t he stop smiling at her? Even after she left, he must have stood there for another minute or two, twisting that damn dish towel and smiling at the empty door frame.
Fuuuuuck.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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