I roll my eyes. “You’re not original. Ellie said the same thing when we had drinks earlier.”
“I’m sorry I missed her. I want to hear all about her honeymoon.”
“Blissful,” I say. “I’m pretty sure she’s still floating on a cloud.”
“As she should be. Devlin’s a wonderful man. Easy on the eyes, too.”
I laugh. That’s for sure. And Devlin is wonderful. But I can’t help but wonder if Inez would think so if she knew his secrets. His and Ronan’s and the rest of Saint’s Angels.
As if she’s reading my mind, she asks, “And Ronan?”
I pretend not to understand. “He took pity on me. I tried to fix it myself, but the stupid leak keeps coming back.”
“I was asking about the two of you. He’s easy on the eyes, too, and I saw you chatting at the wedding. Did I see sparks?”
“No sparks,” I lie, grateful that she didn’t see us in the alcove. If she had, she’d know that there were so many sparks we could have burned the place down. At the very least, I’d thought we’d ignited a fire. But apparently, I was dead wrong.
“Really? There’s nothing between the two of you?”
I shake my head, smiling like everything is peachy keen. “We’re just friends. Honestly, I’m surprised you think there’s more. Sparks? Not even.” I hope I sound fascinated and surprised. But since my acting skills are nil, I probably sound cornered.
If she notices my discomfort, she doesn’t mention it. Just tells me we’ll do tea and espresso some other time, then promises to tell me how customers react to the window display before waving me on my way.
Jake’s already with the program, and he starts trotting east toward home. I shoot Inez a final smile, then let him tug me along, my canine escort leading me past all the cute boutiques, art galleries, restaurants, and gift stores that line this well-traveled street that forms the heart of our town.
The shopping area ends where Pacific Avenue terminates at Sunset Parkway. But across the street, Copper Canyon Drive continues to wind up into the hills toward my house. We head that direction, Jake leading the way. At our lazy pace, it takes about fifteen minutes to reach my street, and we pick up speed as we turn the corner, because now Jake’s eager to get home.
We’re four houses away when I notice the Range Rover parked in my drive. I frown, then check my watch. I’m not supposed to meet Ronan for another thirty minutes, and yet I’m positive that’s him. Which means that instead of grabbing a quick shower and putting on fresh makeup, he gets to see me shiny and sweaty.
Yippee.
For a moment, I consider calling him and telling him that I’m still out running errands and asking if we can push our sink repair appointment by an hour. Then I can linger in the bushes so that he doesn’t see me when he drives away. Because seeing Ronan while I look this scrungy is really not high on my list.
Which, of course, is stupid. We’re only friends. He’s certainly made that clear enough. Heck, it wasn’t that long ago I saw him with that redhead in the alley, and wasn’t that a hard dose of reality?
I scowl at the memory—her with her back to the brick wall, and him with his arms caging her in. And—
Stop.
The word fills my head, final and resolute. I nod with corresponding firmness. I’m going to unsee that moment. I’m going to completely forget about it. Ronan Thorne with that woman is not a topic I need to think about, because there’s absolutely nothing between us, no matter how much I might have hoped there would be. And, dang it, I really had hoped there would be.
Except no, I didn’t.
Because every time I get involved with a guy, it all goes to hell. And I really don’t want to lose Ronan’s friendship.
But I do want more.
I draw a calming breath, then sternly tell myself that want is not the issue. I want to eat massive amounts of chocolate on a daily basis. I don’t because I know it’s not good for me.
Except, okay, yeah, some days I do.
Even so, the concept still applies. I may want Ronan in theory, but I also know that anything between us will end badly. It always does with men. I’ll freeze up and be all weird about sex because that’s who I am. He’ll hurt me somehow. Maybe not physically, but there will be pain. Because that’s what always happens. And it only gets worse.
After all, things went wrong with my last boyfriend, and I almost ended up dead.
For my own safety, I should probably just stay celibate.
And yet there’s still that lingering want hiding deep in my soul. A craving that I can’t shake but have to ignore. Because at the end of the day, I’m not a stupid woman. I’m also not a masochist. But getting involved with Ronan would mean getting hurt. That’s the pattern, and there’s no reason to expect it would change. Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result?
And besides, all of my musings are moot anyway. Because despite that blissful night in the alcove, Ronan has never, ever made even a hint of a suggestion of a repeat. It was a one-off. A drunken wedding kiss. And a harsh reminder of why I need to keep my distance from men. Nothing good comes of getting close.
Well, nothing except the feel of his lips on mine and his arm around my waist and his large hand cupping the back of my head.
I close my eyes and sigh, lost in this memory that I want to forget. Because no matter how much I tell myself I shouldn’t want—don’t want—anything to happen with Ronan, that is all a big, fat lie.
“Brandy?”
I jump, then open my eyes to find the man in question standing in front of me, Jake’s leash in his hand and Jake himself curled up at Ronan’s feet.
“Are you okay?” His blue eyes are focused right on me, and for a moment, I lose myself in them.
“Brandy?” he repeats. His golden blond hair is just long enough to curl a bit, and his beard stubble tempts my fingers.
I can’t seem to stop staring.
Stop. Staring.
I shake myself, my self-issued order ringing in my head as my cheeks go hot. “Sorry. What? Oh, yes. I’m fine. I was just thinking.”
“Thinking?” His brows rise as the corner of his mouth twitches, and darn it, I actually swoon a bit. There’s just something about this man. Not his looks—although they definitely don’t hurt. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with a chiseled face that’s not too perfect, and all the better for his rough edges.
Ellie once described him as a Nordic god, and that sounds about right to me. Either that or an action hero.
Then again, considering his day job as an independent security consultant and his secret vocation as one of Saint’s Angels, he truly is the latter. Just in real life and not on a movie screen.
Bottom line is that although Ronan is very, very easy on the eyes, what I find most attractive is that underneath all that dangerous muscle is a guy with a genuinely good heart and a very sweet demeanor. The guy who so gently carried me out of that horrible underground chamber, then tended my wounds and promised that everything would be okay. The man who whispered that I was beautiful at Ellie and Devlin’s wedding, and that all he could think about was kissing me.
The guy who makes my heart flutter and my fingers ache to touch him even though I know I shouldn’t.