“Night.” Her mumble is less distinct now. She rolls over, her hands clasped beneath her chin.
He steps aside, and I make my way to the front door of the suite. To my surprise, he follows me.
“Well,” I say. “It was interesting meeting you.” I can’t hold back my shy smile.
He hesitates. “Do you, um…” He stops and shakes his head.
“Do I what?” I ask, hoping, praying, for him to continue.
“Nothing,” he says after a beat.
What did I think? That he was going to ask me to stay? I’m hot for him, yes, because he’s Ronan Masters, a superstar. But that doesn’t meanhefeels the same. This is nothing more than a fangirl crush.
“It was nice meeting you.” I try to hide my dejection behind a perky smile.
“Nice?” he queries.
I laugh. “Well, like I said, interesting. And, yes, nice as well.”
We reach the door, and I linger, loath to leave, yet knowing it’s inevitable.
He leans against the door. An electric current runs through my veins. There’s no mistletoe this time. But could I hope for a kiss goodbye?
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
I step back, out into the hall, still facing him, not able to break his gaze. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
Bye.I silently mouth to Ronan. I’m such a dork.
He nods, breaking the spell.
I turn and float to my door at the end of the hall. I hear his door click shut.
When I slip into my room, I latch the lock to keep from vaulting back down the hallway and begging Ronan to spend the night with me, though I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life, having been with my former fiancé since high school.
I lean against the door, eyes closed, knees still weak, remembering everything he said. Everything I said. Every word. Every movement. Every smile and laugh. Every little moment between us. Committing them to memory with a fangirl sigh.
CHAPTER4
92 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS
Ronan
The next night,I walk through Holly Hill Inn, still thinking of the girl in the elevator.
Even if I could forget her, my daughter hasn’t let me because she’s asked about Poppy every hour.
This morning, while I was brushing the tangles from Belle’s hair, she said, “I wonder what Poppy is doing right now.” And, “I bet Poppy can braid better than you.”
As we were eating breakfast, she said, “When we move into our house and have a proper kitchen, can you make pancakes instead of your healthy shakes? I bet Poppy makes pancakes. And she probably lives in a yellow house. Or maybe a pink one. A pink house would be nice.”
And as we were driving to set, she said, “That dog is so cute! I wonder if Poppy has a dog. Maybe she could teach me to draw one?”
If Belle hadn’t gone back to the hotel hours ago with her temporary babysitter, a grandmother-like assistant on set, she’d still be talking to me about Poppy.
