Chapter 4 Ronan
RONAN
I’d know the woman walking toward me as Shayla’s daughter even if we met as strangers in a town far away from here.
She walked like Shayla, even with her eyes squinted and lines of pain around her eyes.
The easy confidence, matching hair, and softness in her smile gave her away as the daughter of one of my very best friends.
I rose and extended a hand. “Morning.”
She shook my hand, her smooth palm sending a jitter of sparks up my arm. “Sorry I’m late, Mr…” Her cheeks pinked. “Declan called you Ronan but never gave your last name.”
“Ronan is fine.” I rushed to reassure her without giving the tired line of Mr. Hale being my father’s name and I’d be looking for him any time someone called me that.
We were not exactly friendly enough for jokes and I had a job to do.
Bree swept her hair over her shoulders, pulling it around to one side as she slid onto the booth across from me. A beat of silence stretched.
I should break it, but honestly I was enjoying the sight of her sipping her morning coffee too much to ruin the moment.
My blood rose, attraction tugging at me every time her gaze skipped over to me then darted toward the window.
I remained perfectly still. It bothered some people, but I’d be damned if I changed my core being to make other people comfortable.
I was already damned for finding my old friend’s daughter attractive. “I suppose it’s natural that you don’t remember me.”
Bree’s head swiveled in my direction, and for the first time since she walked down the stairs, I had her full attention.
A tiny line formed between her eyes, then smoothed when she groaned.
“Sorry, I don’t remember much beyond Mom and Nana.
I guess that’s one of the bad things about leaving a small town at such a young age.
Everyone knows everyone, and remembers everything. Except me.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t say it to make you feel bad. And you’ll get used to it again. That’s also the perk of living in a small town.” It took my late wife Nancy a while to adjust to life in Clover Hill, but once she did, she fell in love with it.
My heart squeezed in that familiar way grief had of ripping me out of every moment and reminding me of what I’d lost. Five years had dulled the sheer agony, but I wouldn’t call it tolerable by any means. Survivable, at most.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Maeve was a wonderful woman.” I kept my hands steady on the table, though a spasm ran through my fingers as a need to comfort her almost had me reaching across to touch her again. “Maeve was the life of Clover Hill, and she’ll be sorely missed.”
“Yes, she will be.” The line reformed between her eyes, and she rubbed it away with her thumb then finished the coffee. “Do you already know the stipulations of the will?”
I’d heard rumors since Bree’s arrival last night, but I’d rather hear it straight from her. “Why don’t you fill me in?”
She laid out the stipulations with a clear, controlled voice that showed maturity.
No whining just simple facts.
When she finished, she met my gaze without flinching. “I’m not sure I’m going to follow through with it.”
My stomach hollowed out at the thought of losing her so soon, but I masked it with a nod.
Three months wasn’t long at all, but Maeve had prepared me for this. “Would you like to go over what Maeve envisioned for this place?”
“She talked to you about it?” Disbelief raised Bree’s eyebrows. “Then why am I even here?”
“That’s for Maeve to know.” I tried to keep any hint of laughter from my voice. “Maeve had her own way of doing things. She gave me a list of her ideas and left me to pull it all together.”
Bree wiggled her fingers in a “gimme” motion. “Let’s see what you came up with.”
“All this is subject to change. Maeve was clear about what she wanted, but she also insisted that I had the right to take the lead on the project since I’m the one overseeing it.”
“Right. Listen to Nana and you. Don’t come up with any wild ideas of my own.” Something that looked like disappointment flashed in her eyes. “Makes even less sense why she gave me so many rules if she already put this in place. But whatever.”
I couldn’t help it. I patted her fisted hands where they rested on the edge of the table.
“I’m here to take suggestions, Bree. You’re the owner now, and while Maeve’s wants are valid, this is your place.
You should be comfortable here…in case you decide to stay and finish the project.
” Did I say the rest? She needed to hear it, and I had the best chance at making it sound genuine.
“I understand you’re feeling overwhelmed right now.
When my wife died, I couldn’t think straight for weeks.
I think that’s why Maeve put me in charge.
She knew you’d have enough decisions to make, so she tried to lighten the load.
Maybe after she’s been laid to rest, you’ll have time to consider how you want to proceed. ”
She stared at my hand on hers without moving.
Time stopped having meaning as that single point of contact became the focus of my entire world.
Not good. Not good at all.
I needed to pull away but my hand refused to obey my command.
Instead of the familiar pang of grief, my chest swelled with a deep inhale that brought a hopeful flutter. What the hell was that about?
“Thanks, Ronan.” Bree cleared her throat, the sound jolting me out of my reverie. “I’d like to see what you’ve come up with.”
Right. Work. I’d never lost focus like that before. Why now and why with Bree?
I turned my attention to the laptop I’d set up in the middle of the table.
“This program will give you a 3D walkthrough of the pub with the new additions in place. Maeve wanted to keep the small-town vibe while bringing it into this century. She felt like the clientele might resist, so she counted on slow, measured changes helping them adjust.” I pressed play and watched Bree’s face as she watched the video.
I’d seen it enough to know it by heart. I created the damned thing after all. I needed to know how Bree felt about the whole thing, and I trusted her expressions to tell me.
She leaned forward, elbows on the table and gaze locked on the screen.
Expressive green eyes took it all in.
Her lips parted with an almost sigh, and she held out a hand. “Can you play that part again?” She slid her hand across the table at the same time I did, and our hands bumped.
I paused, but she yanked her hand back like she’d been shocked. “How far back do you need me to go?”
“About a minute. I want to see the front of the pub again.” A self-deprecating smile raised one side of her mouth. “Were the plants her idea or yours, because you should know I’m shit at keeping plants alive.”
“As it happens, they were both our idea, and I excel at plant care. If you want to keep them, I’ll make sure they survive.
” Where the hell did that promise come from?
I had a full plate with my construction business and nothing more than a driving desire to see Bree smile that made me accept the extra responsibility.
A frown formed instead. “You shouldn’t have to do that. I’ll let you, but that’s because I love flowers even though they hate me.”
Noted. I backed up the video to show her the setup again and unrolled the blueprints I'd drawn up.
Bree watched video all the way through, then tapped her nails on the table. “I like the general idea of what she asked for, and your execution looks great.”
“I sense a but in there?” I used her coffee cup to anchor one side of the papers and my hand for the other.
Bree arched her eyebrows and gave me a murderous look. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel stupid. I have no idea how to read these.”
“That’s why I’m here.” I walked her through every change, the wall I’d need to knock down to open up the area next to the stage, and the ones I’d need to add to expand the back room, along with the patio Maeve insisted I build.
Bree grabbed my hand when I skimmed over the bathroom area. “Wait.”
I froze. Heat spread through me at her touch and I very nearly lost the ability to think. “What?” Why did my voice come out hoarse and strangled? I wasn’t some teenage kid with a crush and a voice crack.
Bree leaned over the blueprints. She tapped the corner where the bathroom started. “Is there any way to make the bathrooms bigger too? I haven’t been in there yet, but I remember even as a kid that they felt tiny.”
“I brought that up with Maeve. They’re exactly the size required for a business, but increasing them would probably help cut down on some customer complaints.
” I wouldn’t tell her I’d refused to use O’Sullivan’s bathroom for years because they were piss poor things more likely to get you pissed on than not.
Bree lifted her head.
Our gazes collided and fuck if the way she stared at me didn’t send excitement thrumming through my veins.
Her lips parted on a short exhale. Her pupils dilated and a flush spread across her cheeks. She felt it too. Gods damn me. “Let’s add that to the potential list of things to fix.” She said it in a breathless rush. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” I worked to keep my tone polite and unbothered, rolling up the blueprints and closing the laptop to keep myself too occupied to touch her again.
She stood when I did, sliding out of the booth and tugging her sweater down over her thighs.
Don’t think about how good she looked. Don’t think about her cute nose and kissable lips.
She was Shayla’s daughter.
I needed this job, but I almost hoped Bree scrapped the whole thing and told me to touch grass or whatever it was the younger generation said to my generation when they wanted them to get lost.
Working with Bree was a temptation, and a dangerous one at that. Working with her created a world of problems I’d rather avoid.
I knew how to avoid temptation, but Bree might be the one thing I succumbed to if given the chance.
Bree walked me to the door, her hair bouncing with every step.
The top of her head came to the middle of my sternum, and I had a brief but powerful urge to discover what it felt like to hug her.