Chapter 10Ronan
10
Ronan
“ I t. is. so. cold!” Eden squealed, darting away from the water with a burst of laughter. Ronan couldn’t help but smile, watching her. She had this way of making even the simplest things feel fun and full of life.
He kicked off his boots, pulled off his socks, and planted his feet in the sand. He took a few steps toward the shoreline and let the gentle waves touch his feet. It was late August in Los Angeles, and the evening had a balmy breeze.
He suddenly felt a pair of hands at his back, pushing him forward. With an unexpected stumble, he found himself wading deeper into the water, his pant legs now soaked. He heard a chuckle behind him; he turned around and spotted a shadow-shrouded figure a few feet away. Oh hell no, she did not just do that.
He lunged forward, scooping her up by the waist. With Eden cradled in his arms, he carried her deeper into the water. The icy waves cascaded around them, sending a tingling sensation through his numb feet.
"Don't dish it out if you can't take it, Devil!" he shouted over the crash of the waves. The nickname just kind of slipped out, but it fit. She had this devilish side—a playfulness he had never encountered before.
It had been ages since he’d had fun like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease, so unguarded. Smiling came easy around her, and that was something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.
He heard her squeal, followed by Eden squirming in his arms. Ignoring her protests, he continued to carry her deeper into the water. With each step, the sea slowly soaked his pants to his knees, and Eden's feet kicked in the water ahead of him. He placed her closer to where the waves crashed.
Another wave began to crest, and it drenched a wave over her shoulders. A shocked scream escaped her lips as the wave soaked her. He couldn't help but grin in triumph. Eden grabbed his forearm and yanked him right into the path of the next oncoming wave. A rush of cold water engulfed him, causing his breath to momentarily catch in his throat. His grin widened as they both laughed, their clothes thoroughly saturated. She smiled broadly at him while he marveled at how her wet hair clung to her shoulders, at the sparkle of joy in her eyes.
The golden sun reflected off the water, illuminating her face, her eyes glowing in the muted light. Her hands still clung to his forearm, their touch sending a subtle jolt through him. The temptation to reach out, take her hands, and pull her into his arms was almost overwhelming.
Her gaze traced the contours of his face, and her fingers tightened slightly around his arm. Ronan felt a pull urging him to step closer to her, though he wasn't quite sure what he intended to do. It was as though the entire world had dissolved into nothingness, leaving just the two of them suspended in that moment.
But before he could move, a powerful surge of water rushed towards them, enveloping him in a churning mass of waves. His arms flailed instinctively, trying to find purchase, but the force of the wave seemed determined to tumble him.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the wave released him. He was left on the shore, gasping and sputtering, his clothes clinging heavily to his body. He laid there for a few seconds in shock from both the surprise of the wave and the freezing temperature of the water.
He wiped the water off his eyes and searched for Eden. He found her sprawled on her back a few steps away. She was completely soaked from the ocean, her wet brown hair splayed across the wet sand. Her white shirt stuck to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination; he could see the outline of her lacy blue bra. Her jeans were suctioned to her legs, and she was laughing breathlessly as she laid on the wet sand.
"Nothing like an invigorating swim to get the blood pumping, right?" Eden said as she laughed.
"You know, we're health-conscious. Cold hydrotherapy has tons of health benefits," he responded, turning his eyes away from the devilish lace peeking out from under her drenched, white shirt in the dimming light.
"Absolutely," she concurred, her gaze dropping briefly to her clothing. "Let's change before we turn into icicles." Ronan leaned forward, extending his arm for Eden to grasp. She sat up and accepted his hand, and he gently pulled her to her feet.
Together, they ambled up the sandy shore, avoiding the small rocks as he felt the uncomfortable chafe of wet clothes against his skin. After gathering their belongings, they went up the wooden stairs that led from the beach to her back deck. Eden punched in the key code and swung open the door.
The moment Ronan stepped inside, the glaring brightness of the house momentarily blinded him. He blinked rapidly until his eyes gradually adjusted to the interior. He realized he’d never really taken in the decor of her living room before. She was always there, and, well, his focus had always been on her.
His eyes wandered over the dark wood ceiling contrasted with the bright white walls covered with an eclectic collection of oil paintings. Plush, mismatched sofas were spread in the space. The large windows were flung wide open, allowing the gentle sea breeze to infiltrate the room. The willowy curtains stirred by the caress of the wind, and he could still hear the rhythmic crash of waves outside from the opened windows. He looked down and saw small puddles from his soaked clothes formed on the dark hardwood floor beneath him.
"I'll go grab you a towel!" Eden dashed into her bathroom, her bare feet padding softly on the floor, and returned with plush towels, one for Ronan and another for herself. She patted herself down and then rubbed her hair with the towel. He chose to scan the room to avoid staring at her exposed body in the wet clothes, the soaked fabric hugging her figure in a distractingly erotic way. He was determined to maintain his composure and avoid any attention to her ample breasts and slim waist. His gaze turned towards the impressive record collection that adorned one wall of the room, then to the gray stone fireplace with a sizable wooden mantel instead of her sizable other assets.
"Are you going hypothermic?" Eden asked while he was still staring at the fireplace, trying to think of anything besides the gorgeous woman in front of him.
"Oh lord, I don't know how to fix that. Do you need a hot bath or something?" Bath, now he was thinking of Eden in a bathtub. Ronan shook his head, trying to calm his overactive imagination. Eden stood in front of him, and she started waving her fingers in front of her eyes.
"Follow my fingers with your eyes. I have seen this on Grey's Anatomy. After 19 seasons, I am basically a trained medical professional." When Ronan didn't answer immediately, she put her hands on his shoulder and started shaking him back and forth. "We are losing him. Get the defibrillator!"
“Eden, for the love of all that’s holy, go change into dry clothes," Ronan said, his deep voice echoing through the room. He tried—really tried—to keep his eyes on hers, but they flickered downward for a split second, catching on the way the wet fabric clung to her.
"Oh!" she yelped, looking down at herself before meeting his gaze again, her eyes wide. A rosy flush spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Ronan couldn't help but wonder if that blush extended to other, less visible parts of her body.
"Gotcha, I'll change, and I should have some sweatpants that might fit you."
He paced around her living room, attempting to distract himself from the intrusive thoughts that threatened to consume him. Images of her struggling to peel the clinging fabric from her drenched body played in his mind, and he quickly shifted his focus to the art on the walls, examining each painting as if he were an art critic. Dangerous. These thoughts were dangerous.
A few minutes later, she mercifully returned in dry clothes and handed him a pair of sweats and a white T-shirt. He nodded his thanks and retreated to the bathroom to change. Inside, he took a deep breath, reminding himself that this attraction didn't change anything.
First off, he was a professional—he wasn’t about to let personal feelings mess up the interview. Sure, Eden was gorgeous, funny, and ridiculously charming, but wasn’t that just her effect on everyone?
Secondly, she had a boyfriend, not just any boyfriend, but one who could suplex him into the next universe for even having these types of thoughts. Ronan knew he could hold his own in a fight, but he had no desire to tempt fate with a brawl against a superhero. Whether or not Quentin was just acting in those roles, he surely looked the part, and Ronan had no intention of finding out if those were just mirror muscles.
He looked into the mirror and pointed at himself. "You will not have romantic feelings for Eden. She is your colleague, and you are a professional." He whispered harshly to his reflection, his eyes seeming to whisper, " Keep telling yourself that."
Ronan peeled off his drenched clothes and hung them carefully over the shower rod to dry. He pulled on the hot pink sweatpants that stopped above his ankles and shook his head in disbelief. The seams of the sweatpants looked about right to bust, and he found himself delicately trying to adjust himself to avoid an awkward situation. He yanked on the t-shirt that Eden had handed him, which was luckily white. He saw a quick flash of the graphic on the front of the shirt in the mirror. The Spice Girls logo in glitter font. He loved the Spice Girls as much as the next person, but the glitter felt over the top.
When he opened the bathroom door, he heard the beat of "Spice Up Your Life" by none other than the Spice Girls. Eden was holding in her laughter as she filmed his exit from the bathroom with his camera.
"Wow, you look incredible. The high water pink pants really put this look over the top." Eden said as she panned the camera to his bare ankles, and unshed tears of laughter lined her eyes. "Turn around, I need to get your butt." Ronan couldn't help but groan.
"Butt? Please tell me there isn't a font on my ass," he implored.
"Oh, not just any font, my friend, but 'STOP LOOKING AT MY BUTT'. It's the epitome of couture fashion," she quipped, making a playful turn-around gesture with her finger. Ronan obliged with a reluctant turn.
"That ass is next level, it should be displayed in the Louvre alongside the Mona Lisa. Leonardo da Vinci himself would shed tears at this unveiling." He looked over his shoulder and watched her zoom in even closer to get a severe closeup of his butt. One thing was sure, she was 100% spicing up his life.
"Drop the camera. You are a menace to society!" His tone was filled with feigned indignation. Eden willingly handed the camera over to him, and he placed it on the kitchen countertop.
"Gosh, you are definitely 'Baby spice' if you were a spice girl. I am 'Posh spice,' obviously," Eden responded with a grin.
"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night." Ronan rolled his eyes with a smirk. Then, without warning, Eden began to dance, moving to the rhythm of the music. She extended her hand toward Ronan.
"Come on, Baby spice, let's see those dancing moves." Ronan hesitated for a moment.
"I'm not much of a dancer," he admitted, feeling a little out of his depth. Spontaneous dancing wasn’t his thing—he wasn't about to start busting moves like it was a flash mob audition.
"I love dancing! It’s like a celebration of music," Eden said, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. That spark in her gaze chipped away at his already weak resolve. How could he say no to her? If dancing made her happy, he could play along—just this once.
He knew it was probably a bad idea, but stopping felt impossible. He’d already had a taste of how electric it was being close to her, and now he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to resist. Worse yet, he wasn’t sure if he even could.
As the music pulsed through the room, an overpowering urge overtook him, and he seized her hand, guiding her into a graceful spin. Her laughter rang out as he pulled her closer. He felt her body meld into him as her arms went up on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit with him. Her movements flowed with the rhythm, and his focus zeroed in on the sway of her hips. For a second, he forgot all about his hesitation, lost in the way they moved together.
The scent of her hair filled his senses. He tightened his grip on her firm waist, his fingers pressing on her body through the soft cotton of her t-shirt. Their faces hovered just inches apart. It seemed like an electric charge was palpable between them. Her warm breath grazed his lips, her closeness sending his heart racing.
"What is happening right now? Did I just walk into a scene from "Dirty Dancing"?" A shocked voice exclaimed. Eden jumped back at the sudden interruption, and Ronan dropped his hands guiltily. He knew he looked like a kid caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar. The music was blasting so loudly he must have missed the sound of the front door opening, and it seemed that Eden did, too.
"Oh, hey, Indy! We were just practicing our dance routine for the documentary," Eden said sarcastically as she walked over to a tall blonde woman standing at the front door. It was Ingrid, Eden's best friend. He recognized her from the photos Eden had shown him. Eden pulled her into a warm hug. Ingrid, her eyes still wide with surprise, hesitated before returning the hug.
"This is Ronan," Eden said with a beaming smile.
"Hello, Ronan," Ingrid said over Eden's shoulder, her eyes slightly narrowed at Ronan. "I didn't realize the documentary included dance sequences."
"Yeah, we were just having some fun," Eden chirped happily. "Come on in, I have some leftover Chinese food if you want," she said, gesturing toward the kitchen.
"Oh, it's late. Time just totally escaped us! I'm sure Ronan has to go," Eden remarked as she glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall.
"Yeah, I should head out. I know you're playing a festival tomorrow, so I'll meet you there?" Ronan said quickly and stiffly, collecting his items, trying not to draw attention to his outfit and his obvious erection.
"Yeah, Sloane overnighted you with a press badge. It should be in your mailbox when you get home," Eden mentioned as she stood casually against the frame of the doorway to her dining room. Ingrid, on the other hand, swiveled her head back and forth between the two, her curiosity thoroughly piqued. Ingrid then picked up her duffle bag and made her way toward Eden's room. "Bye, Ronan. Nice pants, by the way," Ingrid mumbled as she closed Eden's bedroom door.
"Nice to meet you, Ingrid," Ronan said softly to the closed door. He turned his head and met Eden's gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Tonight was fun. Thanks for humoring me." Eden beamed, her captivating eyes locked onto his. Then, a mischievous spark danced in her gaze. "Thanks for coming along. I'm Eden Percy, and this is BNN. Goodnight," she said in a deeper voice, mimicking his BNN sign-off. He was taken by surprise for a brief moment, but then a hearty laughter burst out of him. There was a surge of exhilaration in his veins, knowing she was familiar with his work on BNN. It was strange to think that she had watched his broadcasts.
"Seems like fun follows you wherever you go. See you tomorrow, Eden," he said, sharing a momentary gaze with her before heading towards the front door. His heart felt lighter, and his mind was remarkably clear for the first time in months.
As he closed the front door, he heard Ingrid say, "I was looking at his butt. How did the pants know?" Eden's laugh was cut off once he fully closed the door. He stood outside the door briefly and ran his hand through his wet hair. He was royally fucked. He looked down at his clothes, realizing he had to ride his motorcycle sporting hot pink sweatpants and a glitter-accented "Spice Girls" shirt.