Chapter Thirteen

 

“Well…” Rose exhaled deeply several hours later. They’d found some perfect comfortable chairs made out of old wine barrels. Thick cushions and very nicely detailed. And after a firm nod, Ryan had simply ordered eight of them, paid and arranged to have them delivered to the house next week, along with three very heavy wooden round tables.

“Ready for lunch?” He asked as they cruised through the variety of stores spread for at least a mile along the highway. She’d found a pair of startlingly yellow skates and grudgingly agreed to wear the pads on her knees and elbows.

“You choose,” she said easily, guiding the large vehicle deftly through the building traffic. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised that they managed to hit several more stores before closing. They returned to the sprawling home with a very large pizza making the inside of the SUV smell like heaven, she decided, barely managing to haul their things in before her stomach got the better of her.

There was no natural light by the time they had finished their pizza, but with the flood lights on, it was as bright as day on the over sized back patio. Wrapped in his jacket, Ryan leaned against the waist high stone wall, watching and trying to remember that it had been his idea initially. By the end of an hour, his teeth were grinding and the words of reminder becoming more and more clipped each time she fell.

“It’s not too bad,” Rose informed him as she gathered her things and stepped through the door he held open for her. “I’m just a little out of practice.”

 

 

Ryan held his opinions inside, hoping for a deluge of rain in the morning to keep her from the track at least long enough for the bruises to fade from her first attempt. He didn’t get his wish. The morning and Rose burst into the day bright and dry. By the end of his run he knew he’d worn a level off his teeth.

“Will you just go run!” Rose laughed when he kept trying to go slow enough to keep up with her. “Just go, Ryan!” She was enjoying herself, even when arms were flailing wildly, she was laughing and righting herself again.

She was showered and dressed within minutes, leaving him fresh coffee, some sliced pears and a bagel before vanishing out the door on a run to her car. She wasn’t around the corner anymore, she told herself, adjusting her timing and relieved when she made it in time.

“Gem…this is Rose Maddock. I need a guest pass, please,” Rose listened to the familiar voice, grinning and sighing at the questions. If it had ever been a secret, the fact that she was living with Ryan Flannary was now not only public knowledge, but national and even international news. Annoyed wasn't a strong enough word to cover it, she had decided.

“Is it that way too handsome guy you’ve been seen with, Rose?”

"Yes, it is for Ryan. We play racquetball…standing five court time.”

“Oh, he’s been a guest here,” Gem Michael’s read through some information coming up on her computer. “And he’s a friend of Logan’s. I can give you one for two weeks at a time, Rose. Want me to send it to you?”

“Could you leave it at the front desk for him? With a little note telling him to use the employee entrance behind the desk. He knows the way from there,” Rose assured her friend cheerfully.

“Will do…I’ll drop it off at lunch. How’d you find him?”

“I about killed myself trying to take up running the track,” Rose recalled with a little laugh. “Thanks, Gem…bye.” She sent him off a quick text with instructions and went back to her work.

 

It was two AM on Tuesday morning when Rose turned, looking for a nice warm body to cuddle against when she came up empty. Blinking in the darkness, she leaned up on her elbows and peered around the large room. No sounds. No noise coming from the bathroom. Wrapping up in a thick quilt, she wandered through the hall, sleep filled eyes narrowing in on the light coming from his office.

Ryan caught the slight shadow, a frown creasing his lips.

Lips, Rose realized, that weren’t speaking English. Not even English with a soft lilt of Ireland. They looked at each other across the room. She saw him make a comment and recognized a farewell.

“Why are you awake?”

“Because you weren’t there,” she said simply, toddling to the sofa and curling against the arm. “Who’re you talking to?”

“Manager in Prague,” he answered absently.

“Ahh…time differences. Will it bother you if I lay here and listen to you work?”

“I’m fairly certain I can handle it,” he said with a grin. A grin that faded when the sound came through for the next conference.

“I like your ego…most of the time,” she murmured sleepily, drawing her toes beneath the quilt and closing her eyes. “And I like listening to you talk…”

Ryan was still considering this through the conference, his tone far from happy at one point and clearly conveyed to the members of the conference. He glanced over at Rose only when he heard her giggling and saw those thick, pale lashes blinking at him.

Again Rose heard and understood the farewell and bit her lip when he looked over at her. “Did you leave them any butts?”

“Have the job done and done properly, and your butt remains intact,” he responded dryly, his head shaking.

“My butt will remember that,” she mumbled through a coughing giggle.

“Darling, your butt is safe, believe me,” Ryan adjusted the screen and acknowledged the next call, his voice low and level. Precise and professional. When he looked over at her again, he knew she’d drifted back to sleep, the full bow of her lips pursed and adorable.

It was three-fifteen when he lifted her from the sofa, the quilt sliding open enough to tell him there was nothing beneath it but Rose. He laid her on her side of the bed, shrugged out of the shirt he’d donned for the conferences and joined her. His breath was warm and her body inviting as he pulled her against him, relaxing and sinking into sleep minutes later.

 

****

 

By Wednesday morning, Rose was easily keeping up with him as he ran and Ryan was positive the last three morning runs had been anything but stress relief. Matt chuckled as he drove his boss to the temporary office. He’d rarely heard the man mutter to himself and never about another person.

Ryan looked at his cell half way to the office. “You know about this thing tomorrow evening?”

“At Paddington’s? Sure. Rose invited us.”

Ryan just shook his head.

He didn’t think anything of it when she bowed out of the run in the morning, a pair of long, slim fingers waving from beneath the blankets in the dim light of the middle of March.

 

 

Rose gave herself ten quiet minutes before showering and searching for her dress and other things to go with it. She had breakfast on the counter waiting for him, her head down and checking messages as she wandered to her car, cautious on the damp concrete.

 

Come evening, Ryan was running late. He entered the large, multi sided building to the sounds of laughter and music. The scent of whiskey and Irish beer assaulting his senses and taking him back further than he could have imagined. He stepped into the arched opening of what was normally the restaurant and tea shoppe for the Emporium. But tonight, it was far from that. Decorations adorned the walls and music filled the spaces in between. In the center of the heavy wooden floor, dancing to the very lively Irish music, were four women, one of them Rose.

He went to the bar and ordered a whiskey, watching the woman he was living with move her feet with amazing agility matched only by the other three with her. Incredible, he mused. She couldn’t run a lap, yet here she was, tapping and moving in time with the Irish reel. He didn’t remember seeing that dress in her closet, a deep emerald with lace at the low front and on the bottom that touched just past her knees and swayed and twirled with each high kicking step she took. His Rose.

The music wound down and he set his glass on the bar, hands clapping together with the others as the women bowed and went off in search of water and their partners. His arms were immediately filled, her cheeks pink and eyes laughing when he spun her around and lifted her to the stool at his side. A large glass of water was slid towards her, not a word from her lips until it had been drained. She leaned forward, her head on his shoulder for several quiet minutes.

“Makes your head spin,” she said finally, raising her head to meet his gaze. “There’s food…are you hungry?”

“Starving,” he said, grinning wolfishly at the deeper shade of pink tinting her cheeks. She looped her arm through his, guiding him, introducing him and hugging him close as they filled plates with food and found a spot in the corner to eat and talk. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“School,” she said with a shrug. “It’s been a very long time…it’s weird how the feet hear the beat and the music and it’s all right back there again. Like it’s never been gone,” she said absently, watching him closely. “Do you dance?”

“Not like that,” he assured her firmly. “I prefer a more sedate nature to my movements…and even more preferably, with you in my arms.”

“Smooth talker,” she teased lightly.

Rose saw the tired in his eyes, even when he didn’t say anything. She introduced him to friends, chatted about the songs and the food and kept him nicely distracted for a few hours before he began talking with the elder Paddington’s near the piano. She went off to the rest room and returned to listen to him playing, ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’ while others around the piano sang. Her eyes widened a bit more when he began singing with them, after downing half the glass of ale beside him. She leaned back against the bar, watching and listening.

Rose clapped when the deep voices came to an end, a rich sparkle in her eyes when Ryan turned and came toward her.

“You’re a little more Irish tonight,” she said softly, their foreheads touching. “Sometimes I think you’ve worked hard not to be.”

“Sometimes I know you’re right, darlin’.” Ryan exhaled slowly, his hands framing her face before dropping his mouth to hers in a soft, seeking kiss. “Excuse me for a few minutes.”

Rose glanced at her watch. Just past nine-thirty. She said her farewells and met Ryan on his way towards her, taking his palm and guiding him to the exit.

“I told them you had an early morning,” Rose said, wrapping her hand around his waist and walking with him across the parking lot to where she left her car parked. “You looked tired.”

“It’s a nice party. We could have stayed longer, if you like. I’m alright,” he assured her, smiling at the silhouette of her against the night. His eyes wandered to the low front of lace across her breasts and pictured that ridiculous scrap of lace that had once dangled off her bed post.

“I think I would like to go home,” Rose told him. “Maybe soak in the hot tub or swim for a bit. Just you and me,” she took his hand after starting the car, guiding them to the quiet road along the waterway. “Rough day?”

“Nothing unusual…just bloody annoying,” Ryan answered lazily, his head back and eyes closed.

“Hmm…maybe just an early night in a warm bed,” she said to herself in a low voice, feeling his fingers go lax in hers.