I turn in surprise to find Ronan standing near us at the edge of the rink. His Henley, faded jeans, and fierce frown look damn good on him, as does his long blond hair pulled back in a man bun.
“Oh,” I say, flustered. “Ah, nothing. How was your day?” I ask Ronan, changing the subject. I glance at Conner guiltily. It’s not that I want to hide our appointment, but this idea still feels like a long shot, like it’s too fragile to be out in the world yet.
Ronan doesn’t answer me, but he continues to stare down Conner.
Conner blinks several times. “I better find the girls,” he says after an awkward minute.
“Good idea,” Ronan grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.
“See you soon, Poppy.” Conner winks at me, as if we have a secret, before gliding away.
“Bye!” I call after him. “And thanks again!”
My mind is full of the space on Main Street. I’m going to do it. I have an appointment to see the building! Taking this step is the first toward my dream. I’m sure the anticipation shows on my face.
“So are you going out with him?” Ronan breaks into my thoughts.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Conner. And you. Are you going on a date?”
“Why would you think that?”
“You were obviously planning to meet up when I walked over. You’re smiling.” Ronan frowns.
I try to turn my grin to half-mast. “I always smile.”
“It’s the way you’re smiling. Like he just made all your wishes come true.”
“Can’t a girl smile without it meaning anything?”
“Poppy,” he growls.
“He’s just helping me with a project.”
“What kind of project?”
“A none-of-your-business kind,” I retort.
I reach up and massage the tense muscles of his arms. Both to relax him and because I like to feel his muscles. “I promise I’ll tell you about it if it happens. I just don’t want to say anything until I know for sure because I’m afraid I’ll jinx it.”
“But Conner knows.” Ronan does not look happy about that fact. Could he be jealous? My eyes glaze as I imagine warrior Ronan fighting other men over me before stealing me for his own. I silently apologize to poor Conner. The idea is more than a little attractive to me. Just in my imagination, of course.
“Conner knows only because he has to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
I shrug. “Not unusual.”
I do a little twirl, both to show off my skate skills and also to distract him. “Forget about Conner, big guy. Get some skates on. If they have your size, which, come to think of it, they may not.”
I flash him my brightest, sweetest, most dimply smile. It’s the one I use on parents upset over their children’s poor grades.
This smile has a nine out of ten return on softening hearts and soothing wounded feelings.
Ronan is no match against it. Thank you, Mom, for the dimple.
He grunts but doesn’t argue and heads on his long legs toward the skate shack, moving gracefully through the crowd of people. Everyone turns to watch him walk, but it doesn’t break his stride. No matter what his goal, he always advances with a single-minded focus, no faltering. It’s inspiring and makes me rethink the number of ways I’ve let others change my own path.
