Rowan (The Irish Wolves Book 3)

Chapter 10

Hugh had been pacing his mother’s home for what felt like hours. His mood became darker at every turn. He’d studied the armoire. Rowan had created a masterpiece. Mom said she planned on leaving it open so that every time she glanced its way, she would find a memory to smile about. His mother would enjoy showing it off to company too.

Mom left for Diana’s an hour ago, claiming the dark cloud hanging over his head was giving her a headache. Recalling their conversation before she’d left had Hugh clenching his fists.

“Who is she dating?”

“I know you’re angry, but you caused this mess, and though I wish I could help you dig your way out of it. Raven and River believe it’s best to let you two figure it out between you. That’s why they didn’t tell you Rowan was in Oklahoma and why they asked me not to give Rowan a head’s up that you’re lying in wait to pounce on her the moment she walks through that door.” Mom thrust her finger toward the front door.

Ignoring how infuriating his family was currently being, he focused on the most pressing matter. “Who is he?” She ignored him and instead started sorting her embroidery floss.

“Do you even know who this man is? She was shot a few months ago by a psychopath. Maybe you’ve forgotten,” he seethed, wanting to roar and shout and throw things. He wanted to run out that front door and track down Rowan himself.

“I know who he is and his family.”

Somehow, that made him more furious. Who the fuck did the O’Faolains know that had men Rowan’s age that weren’t complete jackass layabouts?

“We’ve been over this. You don’t have the right to be angry. You’ve admitted to turning her away. You’ve also admitted to hurting her feelings when you did it. What were you hoping would happen? That she’d stay single forever.”

“Yes!” Hugh did shout then. He stared out the window for a moment, amazed at his selfish admission. He would like to retract his answer and say “No!” instead, but he wouldn’t lie to his mother even though it was quite apparent that he’d been lying to himself for months.

She continued to sort floss while he moved through the rooms like an angry, caged beast until she’d stood in a huff and left.

The one room he hadn’t entered was the guest room Rowan currently occupied. He’d stood outside the door several times already, never giving himself permission to invade her privacy. The sixth time of telling himself not to do it didn’t work. He twisted the knob and walked into her bedroom.

His first thought, it smelled like her. He’d heard her tell Josephine O’Connor once that she wore perfume made from nude roses. Hugh had never thought that a rose’s scent changed depending on the color.

He loved smelling her. Rowan had only been staying here a few weeks, but the room felt like her.

There were pretty dresses hanging on a screen in one corner. A makeup table with all her feminine things: brushes, barrettes, hair ties, a pale-yellow ceramic dish with rings and earrings, necklaces and bracelets. He had seen all of them adorn her body at one time or another.

The walk-in closet was neat and tidy. Rowan was an extremely organized woman. All three Byrne sisters excelled in design and knew just the right spot for the smallest of items. The O Building in Dublin reflected their expertise. Each of the flats was stamped with the girls’ touch. Bran’s flat screamed Raven. Patrick’s flat was all River. And because Hugh was not a complete ignoramus, his flat had clearly been designed by Rowan. Each time he walked through the door of his apartment, it felt like sunshine warmed him from the inside out.

He’d dreamed of he and Rowan sharing the space a million times.

He continued to walk around the bedroom, stopping next to the perfectly made bed. The mounds of white linen begged a person to sink into its pillow softness. Her nightstand caught his attention then and beckoned. He told himself not to open the drawer. That was an invasion of privacy he definitely balked at. With seemingly no willpower, Hugh watched as his hand reached for the glass knob.

“Don’tyou dare open that fucking drawer, Hugh O’Faolain!” Rowan had just gotten home and wanted to change out of her work clothes into something more arts and crafts comfy. She almost screamed when she saw a man standing in her bedroom. He was facing away, looking toward her bed.

Hugh, oh Lord, it was Hugh. Had she not been so startled, she would have known him immediately. She knew every line and curve of his big body. Rowan instantly felt hot and shaky. Not nearly as impervious to him as she’d hoped she’d be after their separation.

Not impervious at all.

When Rowan saw him about to open the drawer in her nightstand, the horror of what he’d find inside killed her initial elation. Hugh jerked around, startled and probably embarrassed at being caught. She tried to control her features so that the man who tossed her away wouldn’t know how his mere presence affected her.

His hair was still shaved tight to his scalp. He taken to the style a couple of months ago. Hugh had gorgeous hair. Thick with a slight wave, all shades of coffee and cocoa. The shaved look suited him just as well, making his dark eyes shine brighter and his cheekbones sharper. He still had his beard and mustache, thank God, he hadn’t shaved them off. It was thick and wavy, brown shot with silver.

He”d always reminded Rowan of the actor Travis Fimmel, only Hugh was bigger, darker, and sexier—in her eyes anyway. One hundred percent beautiful man. “Why are you here?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, Hugh’s tried-and-true defensive maneuver. It wouldn’t save him from her questions. “Well?” she asked when he remained silent. Rowan would also like to ask her sisters and Matilda why they didn’t tell her of Hugh’s arrival.

“Why am I in Oklahoma? Why am I in my mother’s home? Or why am I in your bedroom?”

Unimpressed with his non-answer, she simply said, “All of the above.” Rowan knew he didn’t have to answer the first two, but he did owe her an explanation for being in her private space.

“I’m in Oklahoma to check on my properties, take care of some business, attend a few golf tournaments that I was invited to, and attend a fancy game shoot in Kansas. I’m in this suite because I was visiting Mom after her months of traveling.”

“And my room?” Rowan prompted.

Hugh uncrossed his arms letting them fall uneasily to his sides. He brushed his palms against the sides of his jeans. Hugh was nervous. Impossible. He was the most self-assured man she knew. He had a trademark legendary aloofness, which managed to madden almost everyone he encountered. That confident man was squirming!

Rowan crossed her arms over her chest and leaned nonchalantly against her doorframe. Waiting. Take a dose of your own medicine, Mr. O’Faolain.

He lasted another two minutes and then he shocked the hell and breath right out of her. “I missed you.” He ruined it by cringing like he hadn’t meant to admit his feelings.

What was Rowan supposed to say to that? He missed her. What in the hell did that even mean? She could not let this omission derail her ‘moving on’ efforts. She’d found a man who took her out on dates. Held her hand in public no less. Who had kissed her only a few hours ago. A man she’d agreed to date.

“Did you miss telling me to leave you alone? Seriously, Hugh, you might have just texted me.” If Rowan weren’t half a minute from a full-blown anxiety melt down, she might have felt bad for the look of anguish that passed over Hugh’s beloved features, but she had to have tough love if she were to survive Hugh’s inevitable guilt and push back after one of his ‘slip of feelings’ episodes.

“I’m sorry, Row. I was wrong. Will you just talk to me?”

Hugh’s gravelly voice sent shivers up and down Rowan’s body. He moved closer to the door—closer to where she was standing. He’d never initiated contact, so when he didn’t stop until his feet stood in front of hers, where his body heat touched her skin, she stiffened in surprise. When Hugh placed his hands on each side of the door frame, she began hearing 911 emergency sirens.

She could run or stand her ground. Byrnes weren’t runners, but in that moment, it felt like the safest course. Rowan was just taking a breath to tell Hugh to back off when they both heard the front door open and heard Matilda’s voice ring out that she was home.

“Fuck.”

Hugh’s muttered expletive had her eyes meeting his. Direct. There was no hiding what they were feeling from one another. Rowan’s emotions were easy. Embarrassment, hurt, and confusion. Hugh’s body language was all demanding, aggression, and possession. There was also regret and longing.

Before his mom caught them in Rowan’s bedroom, she went ahead and put the nail in their coffin before he could beat her to it. “Don’t come into my room again. I will move out if I must, but you are not welcome in my space.”

He tried to argue, but Rowan held her hand up, stopping his rebuttal. “The moment you left me in that hospital room was the day I stopped believing that something could exist between us. It’s over, Hugh. I’ve moved on, and I can assure you that I will not embarrass either of us by ever pursuing you again.”

Rowan saw Matilda walking down the hallway toward her bedroom, before she stopped, looked at Rowan with her son looming over her in the bedroom doorway like a harbinger of The Black Death, spun on her Louis Vuitton flats, and vacated the area.

Unfortunately, Hugh was still intent on conversation. “I fucked up, Row. I know I did. Please just let me explain.”

Tears were starting to prick her eyes. All her hard work…No, she would not go back to that day, those feelings, again. Waking up to hear your family’s stalker had shot you, sore, in pain, and with permanent scars to commemorate the day didn’t hurt her as much as Hugh turning his back on her outstretched hand.

Not again.

“No more. I’m going to go finish the armoire for your mother and then I will pack and move. I cannot allow myself to be open to the type of hurt you are capable of putting me through. Don’t ask me to, Hugh. It’s cruel. I imagine you heard I’m dating someone, and you’re here to mark your territory.”

“That isn’t true. I just found out you were in Oklahoma this morning. I just found out you were dating someone this afternoon.”

“You didn’t even know I’d left Dublin. Did you?”

He hesitated, but he answered honestly. “No.”

“Were you still trying to run from me?”

“Yes.”

“And ran right to me instead.”

“Correct.”

Hugh felthis first breath of hope wheeze and wither. Christ, how could he ever try to fix things if she refused to hear him? He didn’t blame her. She had a million reasons to mistrust and despise him. They might not have touched one another, but they had been intimate, twice, and he’d run away from her both times.

The idea that his mom might be right about why he’d fought against his feelings for Rowan was galling. The fact that he might have been running scared because of his ex-wife disgusted him. He didn’t run from anything. Helen was a shit wife and a worse mother. He’d never been so thankful and relieved as the day the divorce was finalized. The weight he had intended to endure for a lifetime had been lifted. That freedom had been a gift.

He had felt considerable guilt that he’d chosen a woman who hurt his boys. He was growing his company and quite aware that he probably knew less than half of the hell she put Bran and Patrick through. It killed him that he’d allowed that woman’s vitriol to touch them. He’d always loved his sons, but he worked a lot in those days.

Was Hugh to believe that a bad relationship that had been over for years still affected him? It seemed impossible, but he promised himself to explore the possibility. He still believed Rowan was too young for him, but he also admitted that he was past the point of caring. There was no living without her.

Watching her now, he could see that Rowan was trying to hide her hurt and anger, but her blank stare hid little from him. He’d done nothing but watch and study this woman for months on end. Changing the subject, he asked, “Do you have any lingering pain?” He gestured under his left pectoral in case she didn’t know he was asking about the gunshot wound.

“I still have to be careful of running too many miles.”

“Should you see a doctor? For a checkup.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. She probably thought he was trying to manage her, but that wasn’t it at all. He woke up panicked at least once a night, reliving the nightmare of finding out she’d been shot.

Rowan took a deep breath, choosing not to answer him, she confessed, “Listen, Hugh, I’ve found a man who isn’t embarrassed to be seen with me. I want to see where it goes, and I want you to stay out of my way.”

Rowan stepped aside and motioned for him to leave her room. As soon as he was in the hallway, she stepped back into the bedroom and shut the door in his face.

I’ve found a man who isn’t embarrassed to be seen with me. Is that how he’d made her feel? Like an embarrassment? Jesus, how could she not see that she was the one who should have been embarrassed to be seen with him?

Hugh walked silently to the front door, needing to put some space between him and Rowan. “Hugh. A moment, please,” his mother said from behind him.

He paused with his hand on the door. “Did Jonathan and I raise a quitter?”

Hugh felt his shoulders stiffen. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. Goodnight, Son.”