“Okay,” he agrees. Swapping the coats out, he holds the wool one out for me to step into. His gaze sweeps over me again. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look?”
My heart flips over again. At this rate, it’ll be ready to audition for the circus soon.
As Ronan helps me into my coat, his fingers graze the sensitive skin on my neck. I shiver, but not from the cold this time.
Ronan watches me while I grab my purse and keys. While I’m locking up, he asks, “How are the new cameras working? Hopefully, no problems with them?”
In between his shifts at Stowe and preparing for his upcoming trip to Maine, he found enough time to come over to install extra security cameras over my garage, above the porch, and by my back door. The back camera even has a motion detector, so it’ll signal an alert if anyone approaches the kitchen door past ten o’clock at night.
“They’re good,” I tell him as we walk down the path to the driveway. “The back alarm did go off last night when a raccoon walked by. But I guess that’s to be expected.”
When we reach Ronan’s car, he opens the passenger door and waits for me to get in. “I’ll ask Alec to adjust the settings so it won’t go off unless something larger triggers it.”
“You don’t have to do that. You and Alec have already done enough.”
Ronan leans over to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “I want to, Angel. It’s important to me that you and Haley are safe.”
My heart goes all mushy again.
He cares if I’m safe. Not just me, but Haley, too.
Would a man who isn’t really interested say that? If Ronan thought Haley was a burden, like those few crummy losers I dated implied, would he care about Haley’s safety? Would he bring her a little bouquet, in her favorite color, no less, so she wouldn’t feel left out?
I don’t think so. And I really hope I’m not wrong.
The drive to The Laughing Goat is quick, only five minutes or so to the other side of town. On the way, Ronan tells me about Murphy’s latest hobby—stealing Ronan’s gloves and hiding them in the snow—and I fill him in on some of the more interesting things I’ve seen at work over the last couple of days, with the highlight being Jeff’s proposal to his long-time boyfriend.
“He asked Taylor to pick him up at the end of the shift,” I recall, “and when Taylor arrived, the whole place was darkexcept for a bunch of battery-operated candles. And on the bar, Jeff had spelled outWill You Marry Mewith filled beer glasses. They both love craft beer, so it was fitting.”
Ronan glances away from the road for a second to look at me. “And did Taylor accept?”
“He did.” I smile at the memory. “It was really sweet.”
As Ronan’s attention turns back to the road, his expression turns pensive. My instinct is to try to read into it—is he bothered by the idea of a proposal? By two men getting engaged? I don’t imagine it’s the latter—in all the time I’ve known Ronan, I’ve never gotten the impression that he’d be bothered by it. More likely, and more worrisome, is the possibility that he doesn’t like the idea of himself getting engaged.
Stop it,I scold myself.This is our first official date. It’s a little premature to be thinking about engagements.
But that’s where I’d want it to go, if things worked out between us. I’d want the stability for Haley, first off. And I’d want the commitment for myself. I’d want to know that the man I loved was willing to vow to take care of me in sickness and in health, and I’d want to swear the same to him.
First date,my inner voice of reason reminds me.It’s the first date. How about seeing how that goes before anything else?
But I’m saved from any further silent debate when Ronan pulls into the parking lot behind The Laughing Goat. It’s a fairly new restaurant that uses local, farm-to-table ingredients, and while I haven’t eaten here yet, I’ve heard good things.
When we get inside, I don’t miss the admiring glances Ronan receives from the female diners closest to the entrance. And when he shrugs out of his jacket, several women stare blatantly at him, no doubt noticing the breadth of his shoulders and the bulge of his biceps.
But Ronan pays them no attention. His eyes are only for me.
His hand rests on my lower back as we follow the hostess to our table in a gesture that feels both possessive and protective.
Once we’re seated—at one of the best tables in the restaurant, no less, right near the fireplace and with plenty of space between us and the other customers—Ronan reaches across the table to take my hand. “Is this table alright? I asked for one that was more private. And I thought, with it being so cold, you might like being near the fireplace. But if you’d rather sit somewhere else?—”
“This is perfect,” I interrupt. “I can’t think of a better place to sit.”
He regards me for a second. “Okay. I just want to make sure.” Another of those tiny flickers of uncertainty moves across his face. “Like I told you before. It’s been a long time since I did this. And I know it’s been a long time for you, too. So I want to do things right.”
I’m incredibly curious as to why Ronan hasn’t dated in years. Assuming he’s telling the truth about it, and I can’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t.
Unless he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security,that insecure voice in my head suggests.Unless he just wants to get you into bed, and he thinks this will be the quickest way.
