Good lord. I had to stop this. “Great.” I dropped the garland and window decor onto the nearest table and brushed my hands across my thighs. “Let’s see.”
He pulled several sheets from his back pocket and fanned them out. “I can bring a couple of your favorites over and we’ll make swaths on the wall for you to look at before you make a final decision.”
I leaned closer to catch every word spoken. He always talked like every word mattered. It made me pay attention, and apparently turned me into an attention diva.
Fuck.
“What about this one?” I pointed to a warm tone, trying to focus on paint instead of the way his forearm flexed as he plucked the paint strip from the stack. Forearms like that belonged on a calendar.
“Could work.” Ronan’s gaze flicked to my face. “Good instinct.”
The compliment settled warm in my chest, bringing a new rush of heat to my already scorching face. Paint. We were talking about paint for pities sake.
“I like the sage green for the accent wall behind the bar.” I rushed through my words, hoping to end the conversation before I self-combusted. “Nana loved green.”
His expression went all soft and solemn. “She did. Any others you want to try?”
I pointed out two more, yanking my hand back when my fingertips lingered too long on his wrist to stop him from going through the samples too fast.
His throat worked in a hard swallow, but nothing else about him changed. “I’ll order samples and bring them by next week so you can see them on the walls.” He marked the samples. “Anything else you need?”
You in my bed? No. Stop it. What the hell was wrong with me? “No, that’s perfect. Thank you.” I managed a smile. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Not a problem.”
We turned at the same time, our shoulders bumping together. Ronan placed a hand on the small of my back to steady me.
Declan stilled behind the bar.
Well hell. What kind of new chaos had I stirred up now? Mrs. Whittaker’s sly smile promised a whole batch of stink.
Nana always said she was a harmless gossip, in it more for the fun than to hurt people.
But I’d never known that kind, only the kind that ripped me up and spit me out a shredded shell of my former self.
I grabbed the window clings and marched to the nearest window, putting much needed distance between me and my temptations.
The door opened a third time, and I didn’t have to turn to know Finn had walked in. His presence brought a change in the air pressure, and a constant, lingering hint of smoke.
“Well look who’s out and about.” Finn hooted and clapped. “Mrs. Whittaker, I thought you’d decided to give up the Bailey’s?”
She sniffed and finished her second cup.
I turned despite myself.
Finn stood just inside the doorway in his firefighter pants and a form-fitting department t-shirt that clung to his muscles. His blond hair was mussed and soot smudged across one cheek.
My mouth went dry. “Rough day?”
He grinned. “Nah. Drills.” He crossed to the bar with easy strides and a perpetual grin in place. “Thought I’d stop by for a drink before heading home.” He tapped the bar twice, then propped his elbow on the edge and spun to face me. “Need any help with that?”
With what?
“We’re managing.” Declan’s tone went flat and his eyes cold.
Um, excuse me?
Finn ignored him and moved toward me. “You have glitter in your hair.”
