She let her thoughts spin out a bit. Maybe he’d tried and Kira had shot him down. Her friend hadn’t talked at all about how she felt regarding dating again, much less becoming emotionally entangled … but Tessa wouldn’t be surprised if Kira simply wasn’t ready for any part of it. Wouldn’t Roan know that? Everyone knew every last damn thing about each other. It was disconcerting. And maybe a little endearing. Their hearts were good. So … either Kira had shot Roan down, or he’d known better than to try. Yet.
Oh, for God’s sake, Tessa. Why on earth do you care?
She could say that it was concern for her best friend. That certainly played a role, but she knew Kira could hold her own. She’d certainly held up through far worse. Though guilt pinged Tessa again, she knew from personal experience there was absolute truth to the saying that what didn’t kill you, did make you stronger. Turning down Roan’s advances likely wouldn’t have tested Kira’s mettle. Though initially Tessa had less than generous thoughts about the man, she had no sense that he would do anything to jeopardize Kira’s peace of mind.
No, she knew why she really cared.
She looked up as Roan pulled in next to her. And her pulse tripped all over itself when their gazes briefly collided.
Yep. She knew exactly why.
She shoved open the door of the car and climbed out just as Roan was coming around the back of his lorry. She took one look at him, all rangy body and messy curls, his trousers hanging just a bit low on his hips, the fit of his plaid work shirt just a bit too snug across his wide shoulders, and her libido joined her pulse in the little salsa number they liked to do every time she caught a glimpse of the guy. So she was attracted. So what, she reminded herself. She was female, after all. Didn’t mean squat.
He smiled. She scowled. “I’ll unload. Why don’t you go see if you can drag Kira out of her studio.” She shot him a glance. “That is if you can man up and ask the woman to dinner.”
Roan stopped short, the smile that had been on his face fading. “What?”
“You heard me,” she said, and popped the boot open so she could unload her gear.
“Aye, I did. I’m no’ deaf. But what in the hell was that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, McAuley. Despite my initial impression of you, it doesn’t suit you.” She lifted the trunk top, blocking her view of him, only to have him push it gently, but firmly, right back down again.
“It’s no’ a lack of intellect when you haven’t an earthly idea of what the other person is spoutin’ on about.”
Tessa knew she should stop talking. She was keenly aware that she’d likely already made a huge tactical error. Until such time as she could be around the man without wanting to throw him up against the nearest wall or down on the nearest flat surface and do every last thing she fantasized about doing with him, it might behoove her to keep her damn mouth shut. And while she was keeping her damn mouth shut, it might also be a good idea to figure out what was really going on with her where he was concerned.
“Nothing,” she said. When he merely stared at her, his hand still pinning the trunk lid down, she let out a sigh and repeated the word, but more calmly this time. “Nothing. Ignore me and my attitude. Let’s go see if we can roust Kira out of her nest. She could use some time outside these four walls.”
Roan’s expression immediately changed to one of sincere concern, but when she thought he was about to say something, he remained silent.
It took her aback, to see how much he cared about her friend. It had been an instinctive gut reaction she’d just witnessed. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her, that he obviously had feelings for Kira, but she wished—fervently—that it didn’t.
“What?” she prodded him, deciding the only way to diffuse … whatever the hell it was she felt and thought when he got within spitting distance of her, was to poke and prod it out into the open—so she could deal with it, and squarely tuck it away where it belonged.
“I—” He broke off, clearly unsure about talking to her at all on the subject of Kira, then relented. “You’re her friend. Do ye think she’s doin’ okay?” Gone was the cocky guy, gone was the guy who had no problem getting right in her face the instant she got in his. Instead, there was a man who was obviously worried about someone he cared about. She had no way of knowing if it was simply because they had grown up together, or if his concerns ran deeper, and were more personal. That he cared and the feeling was sincere, wasn’t in question.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. When his expression grew even more vulnerable, she felt a twinge of something far too close to envy for comfort. “Kira doesn’t talk about … things. And, to be honest, I haven’t been the kind of friend I should have been in recent years, so I don’t know what I’d otherwise know. She seems to be doing well. I know she’s here because it’s a good place for her to be.”
Tessa held his gaze directly. She wasn’t sure how much Kira had shared, or how much anyone knew about why she’d come back. Tessa wasn’t about to be the one to spill anything Kira didn’t want spilled. “If you’re worried, though, you should talk to her yourself. You have a common past here. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”
He held her gaze for a beat longer, and his expression shifted from one of concern to one that was more focused on her. It made her feel like stuttering.
“You said she should get out more. Do you think she’s hiding? I mean, she does stay pretty holed up. I haven’t been certain if that’s just her way now … if she’s merely someone who enjoys her privacy, or if …”
Tessa swore silently. He was looking at her in the way women everywhere would pay to have their man look at them. With concern, intent, and focus. Only his thoughts weren’t really on her, but on what she could do to help him figure out the woman he was really interested in.
“If what you want to know is if she’s ready to go out socially—with you—then ask her and find out,” Tessa said, a bit more flatly than she’d intended. It wasn’t Roan’s fault, after all, that his interests lay elsewhere. He’d certainly never led her to think otherwise, and, again, why in the hell should it even matter? She couldn’t be interested in him anyway.
Even if her life wasn’t already upside down and turned inside out, whatever her future held, it was most definitely not on Kinloch.
Roan lifted his hand off the trunk lid and stepped around the back of the car until he was standing right next to her—right inside her personal space. “I worry about her because I care. Just like I care about everyone on this island.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” she said, trying like hell not to respond to his nearness in any visible way, even if her throat was suddenly dry, and her knees weren’t quite as steady as they’d been moments ago. It was stupid and foolish to let him get to her like he did. She’d be damned if she’d let him get even an inkling of it. “The whole island seems to get that it’s more than just neighborly concern on your part. Does Kira know?”
She’d expected his expression to cloud over, or for him to look at least a little self-conscious, or even get a tiny bit defensive. He clearly wasn’t at ease with his feelings where Kira was concerned and not remotely like his normal confident, charming self when she was the subject of the conversation. Other than Katie’s playful nudge, no one else seemed willing to push him on the matter. Tessa was willing. Especially if it got him out of her face and beyond touching distance.
But he didn’t retreat. No. He grinned. Suddenly he was all charm and dimples and self-assured swagger. “There isn’t anything for Kira to know.”
She snorted, which only served to widen his grin. And add a mischievous light to his devilish green eyes.
“What I wonder,” he said, “is why you’re so bothered by my concern for Kira.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. She’s my friend, she’s had a few big life changes, and she’s come here for some peace and quiet. I’d get in anyone’s face if I thought they were planning to disrupt that.”
“But you just to
ld me to ask her out. Grudgingly, I might add.”
“Maybe I don’t consider you a threat. And I might worry—that’s what friends do—but, trust me, she can hold her own. She’ll be the first one to shoot you down if she’s not interested. But rather than dance around and stutter and fall all over yourself—so unattractive, by the way—why not just go ahead and ask? Find out one way or the other and put yourself out of your obvious, pining away, misery.”
“I’ve asked myself that many times.”
“You’ve—what?”
“You heard me,” he said, and his grin was tempered just a bit. Mostly because that damned vulnerability had crept back in again.
Her heart sank, which was her heart’s own damn fault. It knew better than to get all fluttery. “So, what’s holding you back?”
“We grew up together, and I guess”—his smile turned wistful and affectionate—“I guess I’d always had a bit of a soft spot for her.” He grinned broadly then, making his dimple wink. “She didn’t have the time of day for me, of course.”
“Some women become discerning at a very early age.”
He laughed at that, and she couldn’t seem to help herself or the wry smile she gave him in return.
“But that didn’t stop me from showing off, of course,” he said.
“Of course. Unimpressed, was she?”
“Deathly so, aye. Then we grew up and she left for school in London, and”—he lifted a shoulder—“it was a nice childhood memory.”
“Except then she came back, and … the memory, or the feelings that went with it, weren’t completely buried in the past after all?”
“To be honest, I don’t know what they were. But she returned, and … I noticed.”
“And … you did nothing. Fat lot of good that’ll do you.”
“I hadn’t seen her since we were kids. Word was she’d come back home again after … that life change you were talking about. I was being polite, didn’t think she’d appreciate the full-court press right off.”
“She’s been back for a year and a half. How polite do you think you need to be?”
He didn’t take offense at her directness. Actually, that was one of the things she admired about him. He gave as good as he got, and didn’t seem intimidated by her take-no-prisoners attitude.
“Initially,” he replied seriously, “I was deferring to her state of mind. She didn’t talk about her time away, so everyone here left her to her own path. I figured when she finally stepped out and became more social, I’d pay her more than a business call.”
It was Tessa’s turn to frown. “Are you saying she doesn’t? Socialize, I mean? At all?” Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled. “Or did you wait too long and someone beat you to it?” She knew that wasn’t true. She and Kira might not have kept in close contact, but no matter what life changes occurred while they were apart, they always picked up right where they left off.
She’d noticed their dialogue had been a bit more stilted. Tessa had written it off to her own unwillingness to reveal all her reasons for coming to Kinloch, but perhaps there was more to it than that. She’d thought Kira was a bit too closed up for her own good, but she hadn’t realized her friend never went out.
“She might be communicating with someone, somewhere else, but she’s no’ seeing anyone on Kinloch,” Roan said. “And to answer your other question, she comes in to town to do her shopping, and is friendly enough with everyone. She keeps up with island business, and she’s definitely dedicated to contributing to our catalog inventory. In fact, she’s very engaged in trying to push the art forward, trying new designs and materials. But she’s no’ one to hang about and chat or down a pint. It’s work with her, no’ play.”
Tessa looked at him again, really looked at him. “Well, I can’t tell you what Kira’s thinking, but you clearly care about her. Maybe if you let your intentions be known, you’d be happily surprised.” He started to speak, but she lifted her hand to pause him. “If she shoots you down, then you’ll know where you stand. No one should just sit in purgatory. Where does that get you?”
He didn’t say anything right off, but held her gaze. He studied her face, looked into her eyes … and, quite suddenly, she didn’t think his thoughts were on Kira any longer.
“What about you?” he asked. “Do you heed your own advice?”
“About what?” She tried to focus, but the tension between them was hard to ignore. And it had nothing to do with annoyance and irritation. At least not as she—or her body—interpreted it. “About socializing? I socialize.”
“Right,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving. “A regular party animal.”
“I—”
He placed his finger across her lips, and she was so stunned by the contact, that she stopped speaking.
“If your life was in bala nce, you wouldn’t be here trying to find that very thing.” He said it kindly, gently even, without accusation. “I’ve seen your work. I don’t know that I’d be able to find a way to play, either, if that was my life, if that’s what was in my line of vision every single day.”
“You find ways,” she said, when he took his finger away. Their gazes were still locked, and it was as if she’d entered a private confessional, where the world didn’t exist beyond the circle where they stood. “You have to.”
“Right,” he said, “but do you? Have you? Or did it, somewhere along the line, become all work and no idea how to play anymore?”
He was probing way, way too close to her most vulnerable place. Even though she’d begun to make strides on Kinloch—amazing, surprising strides—toward something that could be her redemption, those had been tiny, baby steps. She was still far too fragile to handle that examination, especially by someone who had no idea what he was poking at.
She wanted to be all wounded bear and strike out at him, but he was looking at her with the same sincere concern on his face that had been there during their conversation about Kira. While the honest affection was absent—which wasn’t surprising since they were otherwise strangers to each other—the fact that he truly seemed to care about her situation was as alluring as his probing was terrifying. She couldn’t deny a part of her hungered for that affection, too.
Roan McAuley was making her feel—a whole host of things. All of them dangerous to her health.
It didn’t explain why she didn’t back away, or push him off. Much less why she answered him. Honestly. And far more thoroughly than she’d intended.
“Yes, it did. I used to play. At some point I forgot how. Or maybe I simply didn’t feel like playing anymore. I had a job to do. The stress accumulates inside of you, until it affects your every waking thought. And socializing? Yeah, that doesn’t seem as important as just getting through to the next day and figuring out how you’re going to find a way to detach enough to do your job. Socializing is a form of attaching. After a while, I couldn’t, no matter how inconsequential or trivial. Not if I wanted to keep my focus. So, to answer your question, yes, I know how to. But no, I stopped playing around a long time ago.”
She thought her unplanned outburst might have come tumbling forth because a part of her wanted to punish him for poking at things he didn’t understand. But the instant sorrow that flooded his expression did nothing whatsoever to make her feel victorious. Instead, it made her feel like the pathetic victim she was striving very, very hard not to become.
When she tried to step back, wanting—needing—to put some distance between them, he blocked her so she was trapped between him and the back of the car. She put her hands on his chest, intending to shove, but he covered her hands. Not tightly. Not even firmly. He just laid his palms over the backs of her hands, and kept that steady gaze of his on hers. There was no pity in his eyes, only concern. And maybe even a little worry.
It undid her. Tessa’s issue wasn’t his business, it sure as hell wasn’t his problem, and she had made it clear she was perfectly willing to walk away.
“Go inside,” she said tightly. “Talk to K
ira. You want to talk to Kira. You do not want to be talking to me. Take all that care and concern that’s written all over your face, and go shower her with it. She might not believe she needs it, or wants it, but I think you may prove her wrong.”
“What about you?”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you growing a pair and getting in there and finding out if the woman you’ve been making googly eyes over for the past year and a half has any interest in making googly eyes back.”
“Do you know what occurs to me?” he said as conversationally as if she wasn’t so worked up.
She wanted to roll her eyes, but his hands still covered hers and her heart was pounding too hard. “I haven’t a clue how your mind works.”
His lips twitched, just a little. “You might be surprised then.” His hands curled more tightly on hers. “What occurs to me is that I’ve had a year and a half, and I haven’t made a bloody move.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“Right. I’ve known you, what? A few weeks now?”
Her gaze narrowed. And her pulse tripled. “Something like that.”
“It occurs to me, that if I was really interested in making a move where Kira is concerned, it’s likely I would have. You might have noticed, but I’m no’ particularly shy.”
“So noted. What is your point?”
“I told myself it was because of her recent divorce.” His eyes widened, mirroring hers. “Aye, I know. We all know. We just dinnae speak of it, until or unless she does. But we know. Not the details, but then, I dinnae suppose that’s necessary. It’s beside the point.”
“It is.”
“Aye. Because, difficult times or no’, I’m beginnin’ to think I’d have made my move anyway—if I was truly invested in the outcome.”
“You’ve come to this conclusion because?”
“Because I’ve known you less than two weeks and we’ve spent most of that time sparrin’ with each other. Yet, you’ve been on my mind like a plague.”
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