“Are you okay, Poppy? You look funny lying like that!” Belle giggles.
“Thanks?” I stand up, ignoring Ronan’s outstretched hand.
“Sorry for sneaking up on you. Are you hurt?”
“Just damaged my dignity. Though itisa long way to fall. What’s with the giant bed?”
He rubs his strong jaw, which is covered in stubble now. It’s a darn good look.
“I hired a decorator. When she found out Belle’s name, she did a princess theme.” He looks so proud of the pink explosion, which kind of reminds me of the prom gown I wore the night we got stuck in the elevator.
“Itisexceptionally princess-y,” I say with a grin. “You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.”
“The director changed the schedule.” I feel there’s more to the story, but he doesn’t elaborate. He turns to Belle. “How was your day?”
“We painted pictures, and then Poppy took me to the store, and we bought all the ingredients to make cookies, and she made me spaghetti for dinner. It was almost the best dayever.” Belle says it all in one breath.
“Almost? Why almost?” he asks with that lopsided ghost-of-a-smile. I’m taking the Ronan Masters course of body language and coming to realize that his ghost smile is the equivalent of most people’s full-out grin.
“It can’t be the best day ever without you,” Belle says with such perfect, reasonable assurance.
I admit it. My eyes get misty. I turn to see if Ronan’s eyes are misting up as well or if he’s made of stone, but he’s looking down, so I can’t tell.
He clears his throat.
“There’s spaghetti and salad downstairs if you’re still hungry,” I say. “And, of course, cookies for dessert.”
When he finally looks up, his face is back to stoic, but do I detect a little shimmer in those baby blues? He swallows. “I already ate on set. But I might take a cookie. Just don’t tell my trainer.”
“You don’t look like you need to refrain from cookies.” I say it with far too much admiration. I try not to be creepy, but I can’t help it.
“I’m always in training. I have to eat protein every few hours. Usually, it’s plain chicken breasts.”
“Seriously?” I ask, appalled and amazed at the same time.
“He does!” Belle says. “They’re gross.”
“A nutritionist delivers my meals and snacks.”
“Is that what’s in all those containers in the fridge?”
He nods.
“God, that must suck.”
“I’m used to it, though sometimes I’d kill for something sweet.”
I know I’m not the sweet he’s referring to, but the way he says it and the way he looks at me make me break out in a full-body blush.
“It must take a lot of discipline to look so…fit.” My mind is supplying far more vivid descriptions. Insanely hot. Lickable.
“You’ll love Poppy’s cookies,” Belle interjects.
Ronan makes a coughing sound.
“Poppy? Why are you so red?” Belle asks.
Kill me now.“Oh? Am I? It’s a little warm in here. But now, it’s time to turn out the lights.” I glance at Ronan. “I mean, sorry, unless you want to read her a story. If so, I can go now.”
