A den, colossal in size, configured out of sofas and bookcases, blue and white and pinstripe bed sheets all pegged together to create one vast canopy that draped down over the lumpy construction. Amie was darting in and out of the many openings in the sheets, screaming at the top of her lungs while Connor chased after her, followed by Ronan, who, surprisingly, was wearing a black patch over his left eye and snarling something in a broad, comedic pirate drawl about tossing them both overboard.
Ronan saw me, our eyes making contact, but he didn’t really acknowledge my presence. His focus was on the children. I left them to it and went back to bed, and the shrieks continued on for at least another hour before silence claimed the house.
Just after eleven, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I was already in my PJs—just perfect. I needed Ronan to see me in my fluffy white and pink flannel nightwear like I needed a hole in the head. I answered the door, trying to hide as much of myself behind the wood paneling as possible. Thank god I hadn’t washed my face and brushed my teeth yet. A ridiculous thought to have, but still…Ronan seeing me without my makeup on? No thanks.
“Hey. Is everything okay?”
He hovered in the hallway, looking far more disheveled than he had earlier. The fire that had possessed him when he was with Connor and Amie seemed to have gone out now, replaced by a general weariness that made him look like he was half asleep on his feet. “Hey, no, everything’s fine.” He rubbed a hand against his jaw, then his forehead. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you were still okay for getting the kids up in the morning. They need to be up at seven.”
“Sure, no worries. I got it.”
“Great.” And for the first time ever, Ronan Fletcher offered me a smile. It was enough to make me go weak at the knees. His dimples sunk deep in his cheeks, his full lips parting to flash white, almost perfect teeth at me, and my palms broke out in a sweat. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, Ophelia. I hope you know that. I’m very, very grateful that you agreed to come out to the island. Connor and Amie are going to rely on you a lot over the next six months. I know you’re going to do a great job of taking care of them.”
His sudden, earnest way of speaking to me was baffling, but it was a pleasant change, too. This wasn’t going to be so bad. I could handle anything and everything that was thrown at me if he was this Ronan, instead of grumpy, distant, kind of rude Ronan.
He opened his mouth, looked like he was about to say something, but then apparently thought better of it. “Anyway. Thank you again, Ophelia. I’ll let you get some sleep. Good night.” He walked off down the hallway, and I watched him disappear into the darkness, trying not to stare. Mom warned me before I left California that I shouldn’t fall in love with the boss. I didn’t think for a second I was going to, but that smile was something I could get used to. It would be very nice if I got to see it more often.
******
5:45 a.m.
I was awake. It was an hour before my alarm was due to go off, and there was nothing to be done about it. Stupid jet lag. My body clock was all over the place, and I’d been lying in bed for what felt like forever, tossing and turning, wrapping myself up in my sheets, fretting. A good start with the kids was what I needed. I’d barely had a chance to speak to them yesterday, and they hadn’t seemed all that pleased to see me, an interloper, ruining their private time with Ronan.
Pancakes. The situation called for pancakes. I could easily make them and keep them warm in the oven until it was time to wake up Connor and Amie. And Ronan…Ronan’s physique wasn’t exactly that of a guy who ate a lot of pancakes in the morning, but the thought of him sitting at the kitchen counter, wavy hair mussed and all over the place, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, tearing into a breakfast that I had made him had me practically tripping over myself to get out of bed.
Downstairs: eggs, milk and flour. Butter in the pan. Kettle on the boil.
I put out four sets of knives and forks on the table, coasters and placemats, and then I panicked, removing one of the settings. You’re not part of the family, O. You’re the hired help. Don’t go forgetting that. Day one and I almost had forgotten, though. I was going to have to be really careful to maintain a professional distance from the Fletchers. Every last one of them.