Chapter 5 #2
He shrugged, jangling the Celtic charms tangled in the wet curls that escaped his intricate series of braids. The fact that I wanted to help him unravel all those little braids and massage his scalp was something I was working on forgetting.
Mostly.
He finally spoke and that rumbly voice of his made me want to massage something else. Crap on a cracker, that man was distracting.
“The barrel offers some privacy and a few of them would make a nice path through the room. Organically.”
“Yes.” Excitement overrode the attraction nonsense, making my agreement louder than I’d intended. I tried to temper the urge to share what I’d been thinking, but maybe I shouldn’t. He was kind of an outside source. “Maybe some boxes instead of just crates?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. More jangles from the beads he wore on his thick wrist, and why oh why did all those muscles have to flex and move?
And he wasn’t doing the obnoxious douche who loved showing off his body kind of flexing, it was just that he couldn’t really keep still. It was my problem that I thought about mounting him more than I should.
Yeah. Mounting.
Even the word was more growly and earthy, like him. What was my problem? I was a healthy red-blooded woman, but sex really didn’t sit in the forefront of my mind on the regular.
“Yeah. I like it. If you wanted to shill some products, you could do a plexiglass encasement with a bottle of the high end spirits too. Creatively.”
I frowned and grabbed my iPad from the bench. “I know a few artists in the area. I’ll ask around.” I made a few quick notes. “Shilling, huh?” Amusement laced my voice.
He grinned and his very sharp canine flashed charmingly from the harsh line of his lips. Licking it would be bad. “Money tends to be the bottom line for most people.”
“Money is nice, yes.” I’d have to see if it was feasible with our current budget. But maybe a few of those displays to spice up the space could work.
He walked closer to me and my heart knocked hard against my chest. He was so freaking big. Curiosity lit his cognac-colored eyes. “Nice? From my experience, women, especially manager types, get more than a little excited about the prospect of money.”
“You must have known some…interesting people.”
He huffed out a harsh laugh. “I’m a city boy, Kira. Interesting people are a way of life.”
“Funny, you look more like a Viking.”
He took another small step my way and studied me. His eyes were so dark under that furrowed brow. As if the day wasn’t warm enough, his skin seemed to radiate heat as well. “I am.”
I blinked.
“Viking and Irish if the family tree is to be believed. My mother is a silversmith. She gets a kick out of making jewelry for her boys.” He tapped the buckle and thumbed the heavy silver ring on his left hand. “I confess I may have leaned into it more than my brothers.”
“Brothers? There’s more of you?”
He chuckled. “Lochlan and Niall, my older brothers. Niall actually lives in Ireland. Businessman type. Finance or some shit.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Some shit?”
He shrugged. “Boring money guy. Now there’s one whose eyes sparkle at the idea of the green.”
I covered my middle with my iPad. He was so damn big and smelled like earthy ginger. I was so sweaty and gross, but I didn’t want to back down and make him realize how uncomfortable I was.
Something I’d learned while working with men for the majority of my life. Never show weakness.
“The green?”
“His words. His favorite color. He’s picked up the vernacular since he’s lived over there for so long.”
I licked my lips and tried to follow the conversation. The idea of two more men who looked like this one seemed a little cruel to the women of this world.
The Manning boys were objectively hot, but I’d slotted them firmly in the brother column for so long I didn’t notice them that way anymore. And they certainly didn’t make my skin prickle in all sorts of places like this man.
“Are they…big like you?”
That eyetooth flashed again. “Not really. I might be the youngest, but I was definitely not the runt of the Parrish litter.”
“Oh. So you were the freakishly big one?”
“Lochlan is tall like me, but he’s more the runner type. I’d rather get on my rowing machine than run.”
And now I had the image of all those bunching muscles in my head. Great.
Focus, girl.
“You came here from Chicago, right? Your parents live in the Midwest too?”
He shook his head. “I grew up in Portland, actually. I liked it well enough, but I never felt connected to the damp and the gray. Hiking,” he muttered with a snarl. “Give me contact sports any day.”
“And yet, you came here.” I laughed. “Wait until you get into your first winter. Endless gray and snow. Oh, and people also like to hike around here too.”
“With all the lakes so close, I’m sure I can cope. There’s something about this land. I knew it the moment I drove past that weathered Happy Acres sign. When I followed the signs to the taproom, the feeling only grew stronger.” His cheeks flushed a little as if he’d realized he had overshared.
I folded my other arm over my iPad to hug myself. “Now that I get. And I felt the same way when I first started working here when I was seventeen.”
“And you never left?” He tipped his head. “No college?”
The pang was a bit duller these days, but it was still there. “No college. Wasn’t in the cards for me.”
And I liked that he didn’t know the reason why, unlike every other person in this town. The family I’d created at Happy Acres didn’t hold my past against me.
That wasn’t the case everywhere, however.
“You sure you don’t need any more help? I’m good at moving big things.”
“Kira? You back there?” The voice coming from the front of the building saved me from any bad ideas I might have about making Ronan show off those arms any more today.
“Thanks, Viking. I think I’m good.”
His lips twitched. “Is that going to be a thing?”
I laughed and brushed his arm as I moved past him. “It just might.”
I hurried to the front of the taproom to where Matt and Connie were unloading their cleaning gear. I was borrowing them from the Lodge. The workmen had left a fine layer of dust on everything, and while the black and dark wood was stunning, it showed dirt like crazy.
“Hey, guys. If it gets too hot, we can push the big rafter clean to the end of the week when the heatwave is supposed to break.”
Matt held two really long mop-looking things. His curly hair was already trying to break free from the bandana he wore. He was only in his thirties, but his hair was already heading for silver. “We’ll be fine. Keep the water coming, and we’ll be out of your way in no time.”
Connie trundled forward with arms heavy with buckets. “If you have some cardboard, we’ll move it along under us to keep the drips to a minimum.”
“You guys are the best.”
“Laverne loves her hardwood floors more than apple pie. We’ve learned a thing or two.” Connie straightened with a low whistle. “Who’s the hottie?”
I turned back toward Ronan, who was heading for the open porch with his long-legged gait. He gave the room one last thoughtful look before lifting his water bottle to me in salute.
“I don’t mind watching him come or go.”
I stifled a laugh. “That’s Ronan Parrish. He’s our new cider master. He tends to keep to himself mostly, but we’ll see him pop in here and there.”
“Make sure I’m on the schedule on the days he comes in.” Connie waggled her brows as she scooped up her brassy blond hair into a messy bun.
“I’ll keep it under advisement.”
The rest of my skeleton crew was arriving and I put Ronan firmly out of my mind.
I had a lot of work to do.