Ronan gives me his unmarred profile, his tone annoyed, seemingly uninterested in our reminiscences. “Ah, great. Look, Lois told me about the flower bed. Sorry. It was Jenny. She came in and made a scene—”
“Your girlfriend,” I state, my chin tilted up. “Young. Blonde. She said it was over, by the way, and she really meant it this time. She might have been chewing gum.”
He frowns and gives me his full attention. “Not my girlfriend. She showed up unannounced.”
“Tricky,” I reply. “What was she, then?”
His scowl deepens. “That’s none of your concern.”
I shrug. “Whatever. Sounds like a communication problem between you and her. I’d be upset, too, if I walked into this hen party.”
A long pause follows. “You’re angry with me.”
“Gold star for you.”
Hello. I don’t care that you’re a fancy-pants coach, nor do I care about your relationship status.
And . . .
Come on . . .
You don’t remember me?
Skeeter guffaws, his eyes darting between us. “Gotta give it to the boosters. If the party had been left up to me, we’d be out at the gravel pit shooting rattlesnakes. Maybe driving some four-wheelers through the mud.”
“That sounds like a real good time, Skeeter,” Ronan replies in a soft tone, but his gaze never leaves mine.
Whispering sweet words in his ear, I set Sparky down and cross my arms.
Ronan arches a brow as the cat sits at my feet and looks up at him.
“Look. Your Jenny in a Jeep took out my roses, just ran right over them, ones my mama planted for my first birthday and my sister’s. The yellow ones. She picked them out at the store in Austin, dug the holes herself, painted our names on a rock, wrote a sweet note to us, put it all in a little metal box, and then placed it inside with the bushes. Every birthday, we took a picture of us next to the roses. We have an album for them that sits on the coffee table.” I want him to know the significance. Every time I came home, I’d look at those lush, creamy blooms and know that no matter where I roamed or lived in the world, this was home. It’s where my life began. My roots are in those roses. “What are you going to do about it?”
He throws the towel on a lounger, and his hands go to his hips, his fingers clasping that V. “Lois said she’d take care of the flowers. Also, this party was a surprise to me. I don’t normally entertain. I’m sorry it inconvenienced you, all right? We good now?”
I smile tightly. “Absolutely. I see how it is. Send one of your boosters. Let everyone in Blue Belle bow and scrape to take care of your problems so you can keep on entertaining your guests and winning football games. I get why Mama never mentioned you. You’re a pompous jerk.”
Even though I kept my voice low, there’s a lull in the conversations around us, and I can feel heads turning, eyes lingering on us. Mrs. Meadows makes one of her squeaks. Clearly, she hasn’t let me out of her sight.
Skeeter clears his throat. “Wow. Nice night. And the stars are so bright. This pool is amazing. That waterfall, man, love it . . .” His words trail off.
Ronan’s chest rises. “I’m a pompous jerk?”
“Oh, you’re so much more than that, but children are present, so I’ll temper my language,” I say.
Skeeter’s forehead furrows as he looks around. “I thought this was an adults-only party.”
“She means the women,” Ronan says, his jaw popping.
“Oh, yeah, um, lots of them here . . . ,” Skeeter replies and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Think I’ll go get some chicken fingers. Be right back. Good to see you, Nova.”
He isn’t coming back.
Ronan shifts on his feet, then takes a step closer to me. He smells like summer, sun, and man. My heart does a flip-flop in my chest, but it’s because I’m pissed. Several moments tick by as we stare at each other.
“Perhaps we should talk in private, Ms. Morgan,” he says curtly.
I’m not sure I can handle being alone with him. Not without some armor, and by armor, I mean a kick-ass dress and stilettos. Maybe that would get his attention.
He takes my elbow before I move, surprising me. I let him guide me and Sparky past staring girls in bikinis, through the french doors, into the den, and down a hallway to a door. He opens it and ushers me inside. I step in as he stalks around me to a big oak desk, crosses his arms, and leans on it, a flat expression on his face. “Now we can chat without either of us causing any more chaos tonight.” He looks at Sparky.