by Laura Drewry
And to figure out why the hell he spent the next few days missing the way her laugh made him smile, even when he was in another room, or the way—well, holy shit, the lightbulb that went off in Ro’s head nearly blinded him—the way she spouted crazy bits of trivia when she was nervous or uncomfortable. How had he not noticed that before?
Hell, the second he handed her those cookies, she got all flustered and pink, could hardly look at him, and then blurted out, “You’re three times more likely to be attacked by a shark than you are to die in a plane crash.”
He shouldn’t have laughed, but, damn, she was cute when she was flustered. And apparently he did that to her—he made her nervous; he made her blush. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall a single time over the last week when he’d seen her react to anyone else at the Buoys like that. Just him.
“What are you smiling about?” Jessie’s voice jarred him out of his Hope cloud and right back to chopping up broccoli.
With his brothers and Kate on a supply run to Port Hardy, and the lodge empty of guests and crew until later in the day, the place was abnormally quiet, so he should have heard her coming, but that’s what he got for letting his mind drift like that.
“Nothing,” he said, forcing his mouth into a straight line. “I’m not.”
“Yeah, right.” She didn’t really need to snort like that; they both knew he was lying. “Well, when you’re done not smiling, I could use a hand making up the rooms downstairs. We didn’t put the bedding on after we washed it, and the crew will be back anytime.”
With a short nod, Ro dried his hands and followed her downstairs, where they headed straight into Chuck and Kevin’s room. It was a little crowded with the extra bed in there, but Ro and Jessie managed to work around each other as they made up the beds and then headed into Hope’s room.
Should he really think of it as Hope’s room? It had been Jessie’s up until she moved her stuff down the hall to Finn’s room, so technically this was nothing more than a spare room now, right?
It sure didn’t look like a spare room. Didn’t smell like one, either.
In all the years Jessie’d lived there, she never had that much stuff stacked in the closet, and as far as Ro could remember, the room had never had that faint rosy smell to it, but it sure as hell did now. If his nose was right, the smell was coming from that glass diffuser on her window ledge. Mandy had had a couple of those in the house when they were married, but they’d always given off a heavy musky smell.
This one, though, was barely noticeable, just enough to make him stand at the end of the bed and inhale a long, deep breath—something he shouldn’t have done, because the soft, simple scent made him picture Hope again. And as he fought to get the corners of the sheet around the mattress, he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to slide in next to her and…
“You wanna hustle it up there, Romeo?” Smirking, Jessie shot him a quick wink as she tugged the last corner down around the mattress. “It’d look pretty creepy if she got back and found you daydreaming in her room.”
“I’m not daydreaming.” Feeble at best because, really, who was he kidding? Finn and Liam already suspected Ro had a thing for Hope, and there wasn’t anything those two didn’t tell Jessie and Kate. Besides, it was Jessie; she’d always had the knack of reading him and his brothers, even when they tried so hard to hide things from her. But that didn’t mean Ro was going to cop to anything. No, sir.
“Need I remind you,” she said, “that it wasn’t so many months ago you told me that you’d never seen two people work so hard at hiding something as Finn and I did? Well, back at ya, buddy.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ro jerked the blanket up over the bed, then waited for her to grab her side. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“No? Then tell me why you’ve smiled more in the last few days than I’ve seen in any given month.”
She was right. Shit.
“You haven’t yelled once since she got here—”
“Yes, I have,” he said, as if it was something to be proud of. “But the one lesson Da drilled into all of us was that we don’t yell when we’ve got guests here, and in case you forgot, we were up to our asses in guests all week. But it’s just you and me here now, so if it’ll make you feel better, I can yell my fuckin’ head off until the first plane pulls up this afternoon.”
He had her there and she knew it. Jimmy O’Donnell might have been a first-rate son of a bitch in the off-season, but when he had guests at his lodge, he never so much as raised his voice, let alone his fists.
“Okay, fine, but what was up with that care package you gave her when she left the other day?”
“What?” he scoffed, tossing her a pillow. “The cookies? She liked them, so I gave her a couple for the ride home. Big deal.”
“Uh, okay, I like your cookies, too, Ro, but I have to practically offer up an internal organ before you let me have any, and that wasn’t just a couple you gave her—it was a whole bagful.”
What could he say? He couldn’t deny it, so instead he sighed and straightened to his full height, as if that would somehow intimidate her into changing the subject. He should have known better. Jessie’d spent too many years working with Da to be intimidated by anyone.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t give a flying rip if you give her the moon. She seems like a nice girl, and if you like her, you shouldn’t feel you have to hide that. God knows you could do a lot worse.” She stopped, rolled her eyes and sighed. “Correction: God knows you have done a lot worse.”
The laugh was out of Ro before he knew it was coming. Wasn’t anywhere near a happy laugh, though, just a dry, acerbic bark.
“You’re both adults, Ronan, and as long as you’re honest with her about where this is going or where it’s not going…” Instead of finishing, Jessie exhaled a slow breath and shrugged.
He gave her a couple of more seconds, but when she didn’t seem to have anything else to say, he waved her out the door and tugged it closed behind them. They made it all the way to the top of the stairs before she finally broke.
“So that’s it? You don’t have anything to say?”
“Like what?” He started toward the pub but stopped when she clicked her tongue.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about something like, ‘You’re right, Jessie, I do like her.’ ”
Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. The last thing he was about to do was admit to anyone here that he might like Hope, or any woman, because he knew exactly what would happen. Since the four of them were all gooey-eyed over each other, they’d get all excited and start thinking that he’d finally met “the one.”
Ro believed in a lot of things, but him finding “the one” wasn’t one of them, and it didn’t matter how much he was interested in Hope or how much she might be interested in him—he could already predict how it would end.
“Or,” Jessie said with a sigh, “if it’s just sex you’re after, well, whatever, that’s your business. But remember how much work we’ve put into getting this place up and running again before you break her heart and throw the show into jeopardy because you’re—”
She broke off and pinched her lips tight.
“I’m what?” he scoffed. “A dick? An asshole?”
The more he pushed, the tighter she pinched her lips, which was usually a pretty good warning sign that shit was about to get real, but it was too late to back off now.
“You’re scared.”
“Of what? Hope?” With a hard snort, he rolled his eyes, hoping his reaction would be enough to trick Jessie into thinking she was wrong. Of course it didn’t work.
“Yes,” she said, so matter-of-fact. “She’s exactly what you’re scared of. Every day of your life you carry around all the crap of your mom and Mandy leaving you, and it weighs you down.”
He opened his mouth, but she kept right on talking.
“Deny it all you like, Ronan, but I’ve known this family too long and I’ve witnessed too
much to believe for one second that those two women aren’t the reason you block everyone else out. You’re scared Hope’s going to do the same thing they did.”
How did she…No. There was no way she could possibly know what he had rattling around inside his head. Or his heart. And yet…Fuck. Ro clenched his jaw tight enough to make it ache, then ground out something they both knew was a lie.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Turning, he marched the rest of the way through the pub and into the kitchen, but Jessie stayed right with him.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “And I’m sick to death of watching the three of you carry that shit around! We don’t know why your mother left and we’ll probably never know, but whatever her reasons were, none of it’s your fault, any more than it’s Finn’s or Liam’s. If you have to blame someone, blame your father—he’s the idiot who dragged her halfway around the world to start a fishing lodge in the middle of bloody nowhere!
“And as for Mandy…” Jessie buried her face in her hands and snorted. “Okay, I don’t know what the hell you were thinking with her. I mean, honest to God, Ronan…”
It wasn’t funny, but for some reason he found himself chuckling as he ran his hand down the back of his head.
“But love her or hate her,” Jessie said, lifting her hands in surrender, “the best thing she ever did was kick you out of the house.”
“Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s been nothing but shits and giggles ever since.”
“You know what I mean; the two of you never should have gotten married in the first place.”
What the hell difference did any of it make at this point? He’d gone into his marriage believing he could be everything to Mandy, that he could—and would—give her everything she wanted. And he tried. God help him, he tried. He sold his farm because she didn’t like it; he took a job he hated so they could buy the house she loved; and when she wanted him to be more than just a laborer, he took night school courses so he could get a degree and a job she’d be happy with.
None of that was what he wanted, but he did it anyway. And why? Because he’d grown up knowing he’d never been good enough and had never done enough to make his own mother want to stay, so if he had any hope of Mandy staying, he was going to have to do everything he could to be the man she wanted. To be the man she could love.
Turned out the more he tried to change, to be that man for her, the less it seemed to work, because he hated who he’d become, and that made him miserable, which made her miserable, and no matter what either one of them did, they ended up resenting each other more and more, until Mandy finally cracked.
So, sure, maybe Jessie was right about him being scared, but what did she expect? History had proven that Ro didn’t have whatever it was that made women want to stay, and with two strikes already against him, he wasn’t overly keen on swinging for the fences again. No thanks; he’d take the walk instead.
While he’d stood there mulling everything over for the billionth time in his life and cursing himself more than he’d ever cursed Mandy or Maggie, Jessie poured them each a cup of coffee and held one out to him.
“You’re a good man, Charlie Brown, and it’s none of my business what or who you do.” Her teasing grin slowly began to ease some of the knots in his head. “But here’s the thing you O’Donnells seem to have a hard time understanding. You’ve all got issues and problems—we agree on that, yes?”
Again not funny, so why did it make him smile?
“Well, guess what? So does everyone else. God, Ro, I spent most of my life terrified of water; Finn still blames himself for your mother leaving; and even though Liam rebuilt that fish shack, he hasn’t forgotten what happened in there any more than you have.”
Ronan responded to that by setting his mug down, turning the burner on under a big pot of water, then going back to the cutting board he’d deserted earlier.
“So you had a shitty childhood, a shitty marriage, and your adult years haven’t been so hot, either; big deal.” Jessie pinched a small piece of broccoli and tossed it in her mouth. “Are you making broc-cheddar soup?”
Ro nodded.
“Excellent!” She nipped another piece, then used it to point at him as she picked up her lecture where she’d left off. “Those things, all that stuff from your past, they’re only bits of who you are; they don’t define you unless you let them.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
“I’m serious,” she laughed. “If there’s even a hair of a chance that you and Hope—I’m using her as an example; don’t frown at me like that—could get together and be happy, you’d be stupid not to jump at that chance. But you won’t do it, because of all that other shit that’s gone on, which has absolutely nothing to do with her. So, really, by not giving it a chance with her—again, just an example—it’s like you’re blaming her for something she doesn’t even know about.”
He started to deny it, then closed his mouth tight, because Jessie was right. That was exactly what he’d been doing all these years, and it was exactly what he’d planned on doing until…well, shit…until he didn’t know when. Forever? Probably.
Catch and release had served him well since his divorce, so there was no reason to change anything now, was there?
“I’m just saying,” Jessie said. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
Instead of answering, Ro cocked his brow at her and snorted.
“Oh, please,” she said. “Sometimes you have to risk it. Do you think it was easy for Liam and Kate to put their history behind them and give it another try? Hell no. And don’t even get me started on Finn and me. If he hadn’t pulled his head out of his ass when he did, who knows where I’d be right now.”
Ro couldn’t help but grin at that. Any other woman would have told Finn to shove the lodge and everything else up his ass sideways, but not Jessie. She loved him enough to hold on even when Finn’s fear made him push her away.
“Your silence isn’t changing anything here, Ronan. I’m still right. So just do it. Give it a shot—and, yes, I’m speaking specifically about Hope right now, because even if Finn hadn’t said anything to me, I’m not blind. Clearly you have a thing for each other, so take the shot. If it doesn’t work out…well, that’d be crappy, yeah, but what if it does work out? That’d be pretty awesome, am I right?”
Ro wasn’t about to start thinking about anything working out, not long-term anyway.
“So what do you suggest?” he asked dryly. “That I drop to one knee the second she steps off the plane?”
Jessie didn’t so much as smirk. “Don’t be an ass. All I’m saying is be nice to her, let her be nice to you, and if things start to happen, don’t freeze up, don’t shut her out, and, to quote your brothers, don’t be a dick.”
Ro tossed the chopped broccoli into the pot and sighed over a small twisted grin. “They don’t mince words, those two, do they?”
“No. No, they don’t, and it’s not often the two of them offer any kind of good advice, but when they do, you should take it. Seriously.” Lifting her mug in salute, she headed toward her office but stopped before the door and turned. “And if you’re open to free advice about Hope, then I have two words for you, my friend: crêpes Suzette. You’re welcome.”
With a crooked little grin, she lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as the buzzing drone of an incoming Cessna sounded overhead.
“You want to come and help?” she asked, setting her mug on the counter and heading toward the lobby. “Or are you too busy with your soup?”
“Screw the soup.” Shit. He shouldn’t have said that out loud.
Chapter 8
“I wouldn’t let anybody hurt you. We could grow up together, E.T.”
Elliott, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
Apron still on, Ro resisted the urge to run and forced himself to walk calmly down to the dock with Jessie. And while she secured the plane, he did what he always did and set to work unl
oading the bags.
Crêpes Suzette, eh? Good to know.
No matter how right Jessie might be, he still wasn’t sure he should take her advice on Hope, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cook the woman what she liked, right?
Ro didn’t dare look over when he heard the plane door first open, because he knew Jessie’d be watching for his reaction. Instead, he kept his head down and reached for the next bag. There weren’t many this time, since the crew’s gear was already there, but there was still something in the far corner of the dim hold, something just out of his reach.
Ducking his head and shoulders inside, he made a grab for it, then just about shit himself when it moved. Jerking back, Ro cracked his head on the top of the hold before scrambling out of the hole.
“Jesus, man, what the fuck d’you have in there?” He meant to shoot a glare at the pilot, Gavin, but saw Hope first and never got any further, because, damn, she looked good.
Maybe it was the way she wore her jeans tucked inside those brown knee-high boots. Or maybe it was seeing another one of her thick scarves—deep pink this time—wrapped around her neck. Or maybe it was both of those things, coupled with the way she still looked cold standing there in her bum-hugging down jacket.
Whatever it was—it was good. Especially with her hair hanging loose like that and her blue eyes blinking back at him with…was that worry?
“Are you okay?” she asked, reaching her hand toward his, which was still rubbing the top of his head. He jerked his hand down, stumbled back a step, and grunted.
“What? Yeah. Fine.” He didn’t even have to look at Jessie to know she was smirking, and even though he could hear Gavin’s voice, Ro couldn’t make out what he was saying, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was moving away from both Hope and Jessie before he did something stupid.
He pulled the flashlight from the hook on the door and shone it around inside the hold. It only took a second to find the moving bundle again, and when he did, he let out another string of curses—all directed at Gavin.