Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Rachel
Iwas nervous. How the hell did I get talked into this? Actually, he didn't do that much talking. I talked myself into it. I'd broken my resolve to not date. I was blaming it on those emerald green eyes and that impossibly cocky smile. The shoulder span and taut ass might have played a part, too.
"You look so pretty. Now, who is this boy?" Mom asked as she popped her head into the bathroom.
I chuckled. "I'm not sixteen, Mom. He's just a guy who works at the construction site across the street from the diner. Is Jack already sleeping?"
"Out like a light." Mom pushed into the tiny bathroom and immediately reached up to wipe a smudge of lipstick from under my lip.
"Thank you for not licking your thumb first when you did that."
Mom waved her hand. "Please, I haven't had to do that for years, but don't think it won't still happen. Just give me the right circumstance." Her smile faded. "What do you know about this man? Are you taking your pepper spray?"
"I know his mom lives in Ireland, and he has four brothers, including a twin and he's extremely handsome.
" I turned to her, and this time it was me wiping a smudge off her face.
It was yellow chalk from Jack's art set.
"We're just having a drink. I won't be late.
We've both got work in the morning." I stepped back, which wasn't easy because two people in the small bathroom didn't leave much room.
"How do I look?" I'd pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater.
Ronan had only ever seen me in my diner uniform, so anything was an improvement.
"You've always been the prettiest girl in the world to me." She hugged me. "Now, if there's the slightest indication that something is amiss, you come straight home."
"Again, Mom, I'm not sixteen." We walked out of the bathroom. I poked my head into my room. Jack had a toddler-sized bed next to mine, and Mom slept in the second bedroom. He was fast asleep clutching his favorite toy, a stuffed brontosaurus.
Mom looked in past my shoulder. "Such an angel," she said.
"He is." I closed the door quietly. "I won't be late." I kissed Mom's cheek, grabbed my coat and picked up the keys.
Iwas shocked at how many butterflies were circling my stomach by the time I reached the bar.
I had no idea what kind of car Ronan drove, so I couldn't tell if he'd arrived yet.
What if he stood me up? That possibility tossed about in my mind as I walked into the bar and spotted him sitting at a table in the corner of the dark barroom.
He hopped to his feet. He was tall and built like an athlete.
Everything about him said heartbreaker. Wasn't that just typical of me to jump back into dating with a heartbreaker?
Maybe he was just what I needed to remind myself why I jumped out of dating in the first place.
I'd surprised myself when, with hardly a second thought, I scribbled my number down on a piece of paper and handed it to a man, who was, technically, just as much a stranger as Evan Littleton.
I walked toward him. Something about Ronan made me feel that maybe he was a natural born heartbreaker, but he also seemed genuine and likable and a bit sad, if I really thought about it.
It felt like he was on the same trajectory as me, a life with so many ups and downs it was hard to stay on your feet.
Ronan circled the small table and pulled out a chair. The scent of soap and man and certain heartache wafted toward me. I breathed it in. "I like the smell of your soap." It was a stupid icebreaker, but I still tossed it out there.
"Thanks. I like your perfume. Way less bacon-y than usual." He sat down across from me.
"Oh god. I always hope that the bacon smell is just in my imagination. My mom is too polite to tell me the hard truth. Jack, on the other hand, often has an urge for bacon and eggs when I get home to make dinner."
"That might just be because bacon is awesome.
" He waved at the server, Jamie. I'd gone to school with her.
I wasn't a frequent bar client, but the few times I'd come in, we'd caught up on old times.
Jamie had been very popular, and she'd dated the school quarterback.
In the end, he left her for a college cheerleader.
Jamie walked over and dropped napkins on the table. "Hey, Ray." She smiled broadly at Ronan. "You're a new face in here."
"Jamie, this is Ronan." I looked at Ronan. "Jamie and I went to high school together."
"Nice to meet you, Jamie." Ronan smiled up at her, and I was sure she'd melt right into a puddle. "What are you going to have?" Ronan asked me.
"White Chablis," I told Jamie.
"And I'll take a pint of whatever's on tap."
Jamie stayed overlong to gaze at her new customer.
"I'll be right back with your drinks." Someone popped quarters into the jukebox, and Zach Bryan's lazy drawl floated out.
The lighting was just dim enough to make for an easy-going ambience and still allow me to see the absolutely glorious man sitting across from me.
One or two drinks and a nice conversation with the man would let me know whether that fabulous outer shell came with a nice interior.
In my dating experience, I'd found that the really gorgeous ones tended to come with some major flaws.
Jamie returned with the drinks. Ronan and I each took a sip of our drinks. I smiled as I put my glass down.
"What's that smile about? By the way, that's a fucking amazing smile." Ronan raked his fingers through his hair, and it was a gesture that surprisingly sent a wave of heat through me.
"I was just smiling thinking about how nervous I'm feeling as if I'm sixteen and on my first date."
He sat forward, and something about the way he looked at me with his appreciative green gaze made me feel extra comfortable in my skin and at the same time alive with energy. "You didn't date until you were sixteen?" He raised a skeptical dark brow.
"My first proper date where the boy, Jake Stevens, star pitcher of the school baseball team, had to sit and answer my mom's million questions, including what did his parents do and what his own future plans were.
I was so embarrassed I could hardly look at him over the plate of fries we'd ordered at the restaurant.
But I suppose my first unofficial date was at fifteen when Tommy Brewer and I snuck out of the school dance for an awkward and very PG-rated make out session behind the gymnasium. "
Ronan gazed at me for a second, then a crooked smile tilted his mouth. My mind went straight to contemplating a kiss from that mouth. I was sure it wouldn't disappoint. "I'm suddenly very jealous of Tommy Brewer, and I don't even know the dude."
My face warmed with a blush. I sipped the wine hoping it would cool me. "Last I heard, he married a man named Gary, which would probably explain the awkwardness of the whole thing. What about you? When did you first start dating?"
He sat back with a deep chuckle. "What's today's date?"
"Oh please. You were probably asking girls out at twelve."
He leaned his head side-to-side. "Maybe not twelve but around there. New subject." He took a sip of beer.
"All right. Five questions each and you have to answer honestly." I pointed at him. "I have a three-year-old, so I know a lie when I hear one."
"I've got a few sinful habits under my belt, but lyin' has never been one of them. You start."
I'd brought up the five-questions idea, and now I was stumped on the first one.
There was so much I wanted to know about the man, and I so badly wanted all his answers and everything about him to surprise and please me.
I started with something simple. I reached across and lightly touched his cheek.
It was the gentlest touch but I saw his throat move with a deep swallow.
In turn, his reaction caused my pulse to speed up.
One quick touch and I'd temporarily forgotten my question.
I pulled my hand away. "That thin scar—how did you get it? "
He reached up to touch where my finger had just been.
He nodded with recognition. "That one, yeah, I'd like to tell you that I was fighting off an intruder or saving a kid from a mean dog, but since you've fired up your mom lie detector, I'll confess.
It was a bar fight, and my opponent was wearing a very sharp ring. "
I flinched. "Ouch. Was it over a girl?" I asked.
"That'll be two questions," he reminded me. "Or are follow-ups allowed? Cuz I think I'll have a few."
I shook my head. "Nope. You're right. No follow-ups. Your turn."
Ronan narrowed his green eyes in thought. "What's it like being a mom?"
It took me a second to comprehend what he'd asked.
I wasn't expecting it. Most of the men I dated tried to ignore that I had a little boy.
"Oh wow, you've touched on a subject that I can talk forever on, but I'll keep my answer sweet and simple.
Being a mother is fulfilling, joyful, terrifying, stressful and there's this constant bittersweet ache in your heart when you realize that one person is the center of your existence and without them, you'd suddenly be nothing. "
Ronan stared at me across the table. I covered my mouth. "Sorry but you asked."
He shook his head. "Why are you sorry? That was cool.
My brother, Jameson, found out he was a dad a few years ago.
Rio was already twelve when her mom dropped the news and the kid on Jameson's doorstep.
He didn't know the first thing about being a parent.
We didn't exactly grow up in a house that modeled parenting, but hell if he didn't take to the role like a pro.
And I know he feels the same. Rio is the center of his universe. She's the best."
"Be still my heart," I said, but I hadn't meant to say it out loud.
He laughed. "What's that?"
"Shit, I guess that one slipped out. It's just nice to hear words like that coming from someone who—"
"Someone who?" he prodded.
"I'm sorry. I'm judging you based on your appearance. You look like someone who likes to focus on having fun."
Ronan rubbed his stubble-covered chin between his thumb and forefinger.
"Was that a question because that would be number two, and yeah, I probably spend far too much time chasing quick, easy pleasure.
" He paused. "Did that just still your fluttery heart and prove your theory that I'm a pro partier who chases pretty women? "
I sat back and thought about it. "No, it's still fluttering but then my theory wasn't all that farfetched. I guess I just appreciate the honesty. When I walked in here, I asked myself why the heck I'd chosen someone like you to break my non-dating vow."
"Someone like me?"
I sighed. "Heartbreaker material."
He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his palm. "And see, that's exactly why I asked you out. I thought, 'Ro, you need your heart broken. You need some amazing, perfect woman to come into your life and show you what real love looks like.'"
"I'm not amazing or perfect." My throat tightened. "I've made a lot of mistakes and missteps."
"If we're judging each other on mistakes and missteps, Ray, then step aside for the master cuz my life's been nothing but." He reached out his hand. "You a Chris Stapleton fan?"
"Yes," I said and placed my hand on his palm.
"Enough psychoanalyzing each other. Sometimes a slow dance in each other's arms is all you need in order to know if you've found something you want to hold on to," he said.
There was no real designated dance floor in the small bar, but the owner had left a clearing around the jukebox where people occasionally danced to their favorite tunes. The jukebox was in a dark corner, but the lights coming from the box created a colorful pattern on the dark floor.
Ronan wasted no time. He pulled me into his arms. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He was a good six inches taller than me, and I'd never felt such a solid pair of arms around me.
They felt like security and warmth and that darn troublemaker, heartbreak.
I rested my face against his shoulder, and he tightened his hold on me.
I melted like butter in his arms, feeling instantly at home.
He didn't try anything. He just held me there, solidly, protectively, and for a few glorious minutes, I got lost in his scent and warmth.
The song ended. I lifted my face and peered up at him. He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me lightly. I wanted more, and I sensed he was holding back. It seemed we were both tiptoeing around this thing between us, as if we both sensed that it might be significant.
"I guess we didn't get very far with our questions," he said.
"You were right. A slow dance is far more revealing."
The jukebox fell silent and the familiar ring of my phone somehow penetrated the dizzying fog I was in. I straightened. "That's my mom's ringtone." I hurried over to my purse and pulled out my phone.
"Mom?" There was a long pause, long enough to tighten my muscles with adrenaline. "Mom?" Ronan stood next to me with a worried expression.
"Ray, honey—" Her voice was strained. "I'm not feeling well. My chest is tight."
"I'm coming home right now." I hung up. "My mom's not feeling well. It's her chest." I pushed my hand against my mouth to stop a sob.
Ronan dropped cash on the table and followed me out. "I'll follow you home in case you need someone."
I hurried across the lot. "You don't need to."
"I want to." He saw me to the car. My hands were shaking as I turned the key. I should never have gone out.