Chapter 6
six
. . .
Ronan
The wind started as a few energetic gusts, but, by late afternoon, it had morphed into a full gale storm.
Eventually, the brutal wind teamed up with a cold rain, so Doris had no choice except to shut down work for the rest of the day.
It meant two hours less on my paycheck, my first check, and one that was already spent.
I had so much catching up to do with my bills and bar tabs, it would take me months to get to a point where I'd actually have some money again.
I was in charge of making sure lids were secure on the big trash bins and that tarps were tied down on the dirt piles.
I struggled with both because I was fighting something much stronger than a Wilde—Mother Nature.
Doris was still in the office. She glanced through the back window and gave me a thumbs up to let me know things looked secure.
I waved and headed across the street to the bus stop.
I shielded my phone from the elements and leaned down to look at the bus schedule.
The next one wouldn't roll through for fifteen minutes.
A small figure swimming in a yellow-hooded rain slicker was fighting with the diner door. The wind was pushing it in as the person was trying to shut it. Her long, bare legs looked familiar and amazing. It was Rachel, the pretty server who brought me a sandwich and flirted with me over coffee.
"Fucking wind!" she grumbled.
I reached past her and grabbed the edge of the door. She gasped, let go of the door and shot back a few steps. I shut the door securely and lifted my hood. "Only me. I saw you battling the door."
The deep hood of her rain jacket hid everything but her incredible lips.
They were the kind of lips that could make a guy forget all his troubles.
"Thanks. My phone app predicted wind and rain, but it failed to mention a category 4 hurricane.
" She looked out at the landscape. It was a blur of cold rain.
"Guess they shut down work for the day."
"Yeah, things were getting pretty dicey out there. I can walk you to your car to make sure you don't get carried off in that cute yellow raincoat."
She leaned down and looked at her bare legs. "Wish I'd opted for the full-length rain slicker. I didn't want to look like a grizzled old fisherman. I guess that's where vanity gets you—wet and cold."
"You couldn't look grizzled even if you grew a shaggy gray beard and hung a corn cob pipe from your lips." I glanced around. Everyone had gone home or found shelter, and the street was deserted. "Where's your car?"
"My mom needed it, so I'm waiting for the bus.
" She twisted her lips in thought, and I found myself mesmerized by the casual gesture.
"Darn, I should have thought of that. Now the alarm is set so I can't go back inside the diner.
I think the next bus will be here soon, although the weather has probably set it back a few minutes.
What about your car? Or are you waiting for the giant noise chariot as well? "
"Going full diesel-spewing chariot, thanks. I suppose the building gives us a little more protection than sitting out there at that bus stop." We both stepped back toward the diner. "You can move closer to me for body heat. I promise I'll be a gentleman."
I still could only see her lips, and they tilted into a smile. "I suppose I'm not in any position to be prudish." She moved closer so that our arms touched.
"I'm usually much better at providing body heat," I said, lamely. "Or at least that's what I've been told."
"I'll bet you've been told that." She lifted her face, and the wind knocked back the hood of her coat.
I hadn't been imagining it. She was fucking amazing with brown eyes that could look right into your soul.
She laughed lightly. "What the hell is it about you?
I seem to say the stupidest stuff when I'm talking to you.
Like I've had one too many beers or something. "
"I do seem to bring that out in women. And you haven't said one stupid thing since we met."
A sharp wind smacked us, and I instinctively put my arm around her, turning my body to shield her from the onslaught of cold rain. We huddled that way until the wind slowed. She was cradled between me and the building. She peered up at me. "Thanks. You'd make a fine gentleman."
"Good to know. And I'd offer you my wet sweatshirt, but I'm afraid I don't have a spare pair of pants. Your legs must be freezing."
"If they are, they're too numb to feel it." She leaned to look past my shoulder. "I see the bus."
"Great." I had to admit I was having a pretty good time waiting for the damn thing. We stepped out from our hiding spot to let the bus driver know there were people waiting.
Rachel climbed on in front of me.
"Watch your step. It's wet," the driver noted unnecessarily. "And I apologize, but the heater isn't working." We could see his breath as he spoke.
There were only two other people on the bus, but I decided to sit next to Rachel. She didn't seem to mind.
Before sitting, I took off my sweatshirt, gave it a shake and handed it to her. "You can at least cover your legs. Our chariot ride is going to be cold as hell."
Rachel reluctantly took the sweatshirt and put it over her legs.
I sat down.
"Now you're only wearing a thin T-shirt." She looked over at my arms. "Wet T-shirt is a good look for you, by the way." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Back in there, drunken Rachel. You're embarrassing yourself."
I laughed. "Drunken Rachel? Something tells me you're a lot of fun on a date. And just to even out the playing field, if this bus weren't basically a rolling refrigerator, I would not be asking you to cover those legs."
Rachel laughed and adjusted the sweatshirt so her legs were almost completely covered.
As she lifted her arm, her coat sleeve fell back, exposing the tattoo on her forearm.
It was the first clunker moment since I'd walked over to help her with the door.
It reminded me that she was taken. Something that wasn't the least bit surprising.
"So, what's he like?" I asked.
She looked over, confused.
I motioned toward her arm. "Lucky Jack. That's my name for the guy. Let me guess. He's six foot plus, has wavy blond hair, he's won three surfing championships and he drives an electric Hummer."
She laughed and it was a sound I was already getting really used to.
"Hmm, that is quite specific, but I need to tweak a few details.
He isn't quite six feet tall." She looked over at me.
"He does have wavy blond hair, and he yells when I brush it because it is so thick and it gets tangled.
He doesn't surf, but he does like to take long baths with dinosaurs, and this morning he was wearing enough ketchup for an extra-large order of fries. "
I stared at her. "That was not exactly the image I had of the lucky man who'd stolen your heart."
"Well, Jack is definitely the stealer and forever keeper of my heart.
He's my three-year-old son, and before you start trying to guess what his dad is like, I'll get ahead of that.
He rode a motorcycle, had brown hair and a nice smile and we dated for all of three weeks before he told me he was feeling too tied down.
He rode off on his bike, and I was left behind standing in a crummy apartment bathroom staring in disbelief at the tiny plus symbol on my pregnancy test. I decided to keep the baby and join the big, wide and frustrating world of single parenting.
I haven't regretted one moment. Jack is my world. "
I was stupidly relieved to know Jack was her son and that his dad wasn't in the picture. It was especially stupid because that meant nothing. There was no way she was single.
"Now that you know some personal details, how about you?" she asked. "Is there a Hummer driving blonde in your life?"
"Not at the moment."
"So, you have a niece, and she makes great pancakes. From a sister or brother?"
"Brother. I've got four brothers, including a twin, only Colin and I are not at all alike."
"Wow, four brothers. I'm an only child. In fact, it was just my mom and me almost my whole life. Now it's Mom, Jack and me. It's nice."
"That would be. My mom's in Ireland. Her home country.
My dad was really good at getting married and divorced, and the five of us were so wild—" I paused and smiled.
"Our last name is Wilde, by the way, our moms, and yes, there were four of them, decided to leave us with our old man.
He owns a ranch with a lot of horses and property, so we had plenty of space to race motorcycles, jump from trees and break bones.
I think I might have the trophy on bone breaks, but my brother Colin is closing in on the title. He's a professional snowboarder."
"Wow, that's a nice little biographical telling of your life. I've already got a picture of a very wild, possibly too careless young man who has probably already lived a dozen lives in a few decades. And is construction a chosen profession?"
I looked at her with a head tilt. "Is waitressing at a diner a chosen profession?"
She nodded. "Touché. Like all good female B students, I was planning to be a teacher, but Jack cut short my college dreams. How about you?"
"Me?" I chuckled. "I don't think the word college ever came from this mouth. Let's just say we had a pretty crazy childhood. My dad, well—" I shook my head. "We all survived. That's something most people in our town were betting against."
Her lips pulled down to a frown. "I'm sorry. That doesn't sound too ideal, even with the big playground in your backyard." She looked up. "If you all had different mothers, then you're half brothers. Except for your twin, of course. Are you all close?"
"Yeah, you could say that. Since we didn't really have a responsible guardian—massive understatement." I laughed. "We had to watch each other's backs. Zander is the oldest. He was watching us more than he let on. We were a lot of responsibility."
"I'll bet. That's a lot to put on a big brother." Rachel glanced up. "Oops. Here's my stop." She handed me the sweatshirt. "I appreciate it." She looked back. "Didn't see you at lunch."
"No, I made a sandwich this morning."
"I'm glad you had some lunch. See you later."
"Yeah, I hope so."