Why Not Tonight (Happily Inc. #3)

He sighed. “Fine. Tell me about the baby app. You’re really considering that.”

She burst out laughing as she headed for the refrigerator. “Wow, you really are desperate to distract me. You’d rather talk about my baby app than the kiss? I’m going to remember how easy you are to rattle. Brace yourself. The next time you get on my nerves, I am so taking you down.”

“I never get on your nerves.”

“You have no idea.” She found the cookies and tossed the package onto the counter, then collected a couple of cookie sheets.

“How could I annoy you?”

He sounded genuinely confused, which was seriously cute, she thought as she washed her hands before ripping open the log-shaped package.

“You have it all and you don’t appreciate it.” She cut the dough into slices, then divided each slice into quarters. “You have a great career. Your work is literally sought after all around the world. You have family—brothers who care about you. Mathias followed you here. Do you get that? He totally uprooted his life, left everything he knew, so he could still be your twin. I have the feeling you don’t appreciate that enough.”

She thought about what he was dealing with—his family, his inability to work—and wished she had words of wisdom, but she’d been blessed with a sunny disposition rather than the ability to help people with their problems.

She glanced at him. He was watching her, but she had no idea what he was thinking.

“And Nick,” she added, figuring she was on a roll and should just keep talking. “He moved here, too. To be with you and Mathias. That’s a big deal. I know you think Ceallach isn’t a good father—and from what I’ve heard, he isn’t—but still, that’s some powerful DNA.”

“There’s a price for that DNA.”

“Your mom is a nice counterbalance.”

She spoke without thinking, then could have slapped herself. Ronan didn’t know who his mother was and he didn’t accept the woman who had raised him as that person.

She finished with the cookies and walked to the sink to wash her hands. Silence built in the kitchen until it threatened to suck all the air out of the room. She dried her hands, crossed to him and stared into his green eyes.

“You know what I meant,” she said softly.

“Elaine isn’t my mother.”

Elaine had raised him—she’d loved him, worried about him, done her best for him, so yeah, she was his mother, but Natalie wasn’t going to die on that particular hill.

“You are such a pain in my ass,” she murmured. “Honestly, if I thought it would do any good, I would so slap you upside the head.”

Things could have gone a thousand different ways. She half expected him to stalk out of the kitchen, never to be heard from again. Or he could have gotten really mad and yelled at her. Or he could have been sarcastic and maybe hurt her feelings. Instead that very wily, very appealing corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were trying not to smile.

“You’re not as bad as people think,” she whispered, allowing herself to get lost in his eyes.

“You’re about ten times worse.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You mean that in the nicest way possible.”

“Yes, I do.”

The tension returned, but it was a lot more interesting than it had been before. She couldn’t help thinking about the brief, chaste kiss they’d shared. Imagine what he could do if he put his mind to it. Or his body.

Without having anything close to a plan, she stepped close, put her hands on his chest and said, “While sex is never the answer, it can sometimes be a nice distraction.”

Emotions skittered through his eyes. She didn’t bother trying to figure out what they were. Instead she waited for him to pull her close and—

“Natalie, no.” He took a step back. “You’re my guest. We had this conversation. I’m sorry, but we can’t.”

Before she could figure out if he meant what she thought he meant, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her and the cookies alone.

She stared after him, not able to believe he’d rejected her. Didn’t he know that she’d never done anything like that before in her life? Just blatantly asked for sex? He was supposed to say yes, otherwise she never would have asked.

Humiliation burned hot, staining her cheeks and making her run for the relative safety of her room. Once there she tried to slow her breathing, but she couldn’t. Rejection more than stung—it made her feel small and less than. It made her want to disappear. Only she couldn’t. Ronan had tried to warn her and she hadn’t listened. She was well and truly trapped with nowhere to go.





CHAPTER SIX

RONAN DIDN’T KNOW what to do. He wanted to give Natalie space and distance himself from her, so he couldn’t take her up on her amazing invitation. He retreated to his studio, locking the door behind him. The turn of the dead bolt was much more for him than for her. It was a tangible reminder that she was under his charge and therefore to be protected.

He knew better than to try to work. Sexual frustration and molten glass were not a good mix. Instead he paced for nearly an hour before settling down enough to plan out the next few steps in completing his massive installation. It was nearly eight o’clock when he finally allowed himself to go back into the house. The second he stepped inside, he knew she was gone. Knew it from the stillness in the air.

Panic and worry braided together to hang him, but before he could come up with a plan to go find her, he saw a note on the island, next to a batch of baked cookies.

The road crew called. Things went faster than they expected, so they cleared the way tonight. I caught a ride back to town with them. Thanks again for giving me a place to stay in the storm. N.

He carefully set the paper back on the island, knowing if he held it he would crush it. She was gone. Back to her place, back to where she belonged. His life was restored to what it had become. He should be thrilled. Delighted. Relieved. Only all he could think was how much he wanted her back, even as he knew that was never going to happen.

*

AFTER SHOWERING AND changing into fresh clothes, Natalie paced through her apartment. She rented the second floor of a converted house. The kitchen and bath had been updated, but what had drawn her to the rental were the big windows in the south-facing master bedroom.

The light was perfect. Nothing like it would have been in Ronan’s turret, but still, plenty for her. She’d taken the smaller second bedroom to sleep in and used the master as her at-home art studio.

She fixed herself a sad little frozen dinner and made herbal tea, all the while thinking longingly of German hot chocolate and marshmallows and charming conversation and the man who had delighted her at every turn...right up until he’d resisted her advances.

“No means no,” she whispered, stirring the slightly gummy spaghetti and trying to find humor in her battered heart.

Not battered, she told herself. Embarrassed. There was a difference. Ronan had done what he thought was right to protect her and she needed to respect that. Her hurt feelings were her problem.

She ate her dinner, then carried her tea to her studio. She’d brought the dragon picture with her, but none of Ronan’s supplies, which meant she would be changing direction partway through.

She touched the iridescent discs and the brass paper clips that covered part of one wing and a little of the body. Should she just surrender to failure and start something else? If she changed direction now she would have to...

She put the framed canvas on the long craft table, then went into the master closet. It was good-sized and she’d crammed it with bookshelves, plastic trays and drawers, all filled with odds and ends she’d found, bought or been given. There were those buttons her friend Violet had let her have for practically nothing. Weren’t they iridescent? The shape and thickness were different, but that didn’t matter.