Much Ado About You Page 6

  Alinea was a fine dining restaurant in the city. It had three Michelin stars and was ranked in the top fifty best restaurants in the world. I chuckled at the feverish look in his eyes. “I’m afraid not. Alinea is a little out of my price range.”

  The chef opened his mouth to say something else, but Milly caught him by the arm. “Let them eat their pudding.” Milly smiled at me. “We’ll come over later when the pub is quieter and join you for a pint.”

  Something in me relaxed. Having Milly and Dexter as a buffer between me and Roane did not sound like a bad thing. “Great!”

  When they’d gone, Roane waved a hand at the plate. “Ladies first.”

  Sharing a dessert was strangely intimate. It did not help that we kept locking gazes. His eyes appeared darker than they really were because of the sable outer rims of his irises. However, on close inspection, I found a lighter shade of brown encircled his pupils, a dark mahogany, and between the sable and mahogany were embers of a fire. Copper in the sunlight. Bright autumn leaves on dark soil.

  I could have stared into Roane’s eyes all night.

  Most discomforting in all this was the fact that I wasn’t uncomfortable. Despite my hyperawareness of him, I was weirdly at ease in his company.

  “So.” Roane pushed the plate aside. “Chicago?”

  “I grew up in the suburbs of Indiana. Carmel, north of Indianapolis. But I graduated from Northwestern University, which is north of Chicago, and I just never left. What about you? Born and raised in Northumberland?”

  “Aye. The farm is a couple of miles from here. I went to school, traveled a bit, but the Northumberland Coast is home.”

  I smiled, imagining him wandering the world only to be drawn back to the beauty here. “What a home it is.”

  Roane smiled appreciatively. “You like it here so far then?”

  “So far. Alnster is beautiful, and I haven’t even walked along the beach yet.”

  “There’s a lot more to see.”

  “I know. I’ve decided the store will only be open four days a week. That way the rest of the time I’ll sightsee.”

  “Good plan. You know, it was a surprise to hear you rented from Penny. Last we heard, she was selling the place.”

  This news surprised and saddened me. I hadn’t even been open one day as the “owner,” and yet it had already brought me the peace and relaxation I’d been looking for. To be surrounded by books in such a beautiful place. “I booked last minute, maybe that’s why.”

  Roane asked me why renting a bookstore was my idea of a vacation, and I told him of my love of all things books and Shakespeare.

  His lips twitched and he stared at me, gaze warm, like he thought I was adorable. “I’ve never really been a fan of Shakespeare, to be honest.”

  I narrowed my eyes, teasing, “How can you not be a fan of Shakespeare?”

  Roane shrugged.

  “Now is the winter of our discontent.”

  His eyes danced with laughter.

  “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

  His smile grew.

  “Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.”

  The warmth in his eyes darkened. “That’s a good one. I like that.”

  Pleased, I nodded and continued, “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” I leaned forward, and Roane’s gaze flickered to my mouth. “How can you not be a fan of Shakespeare when his characters say epic shit like that?”

  Roane laughed and leaned toward me. “Well, when you put it like that . . . Also, I’m impressed you know all that by heart.”

  “Do you want the truth?”

  “Aye, always, unless it’s something negative about Shadow. I won’t hear a bad word against him, even if he shit on your marigolds.”

  I threw my head back in laughter. How could a guy be both adorable and sexy? I hadn’t thought it possible until I met Farmer Robson.

  Roane’s eyes glittered, his lips twitching with amusement. “You were saying?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Well, I love Shakespeare. I do. But I memorized a bunch of lines in college to impress my hot lit professor and they stuck.”

  “Your dedication to get his attention is impressive.”

  “How do you know my professor wasn’t a woman?”

  Surprise flickered across his face, and if I wasn’t wrong, disappointment. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

  “I’m teasing.” I drank the last of my cider and smirked at him. “He was a guy.”

  Giving me a mock scowl, Roane stood up. “I’ll get us another round.”

  When he returned, the pub was quiet enough that Milly and Dexter joined us. They sat at the table beside us, and I turned my chair so my back wasn’t to them; however, this situated me closer to Roane. My hyperawareness went into overdrive. The first time his arm brushed mine, I swear my heart leapt into my throat.

  Before I knew it, I’d consumed another cider and was on my fourth. I was feeling a little drunk and a lot loose-tongued when the conversation turned more personal.

  Milly asked what had brought me to Alnster, and I ended up telling them about the wreck of my life, how much of a failure I was, about Aaron being the end of a long list of bad online dating experiences, my lack of a job, and my friends all moving on with their lives. The only thing I, thankfully, kept to myself was my mom.

  “So now I’m here, putting a little distance between me and Chicago, and trying to figure out what I want.” I couldn’t look at Roane as I added, “And that means no men for a while.”

  “Why swear off men entirely?” Dexter’s gaze flickered to Roane and back to me. “Surely after all the dating you’ve done, you know what it is you want and what you don’t want?”

  “Oh, I know what I emphatically don’t want.” I raised my bottle of cider to punctuate this point.

  “That being?”

  I turned to Roane. He sat forward, his arms crossed in front of him, his head bent toward mine, his dark gaze focused entirely on me. For a moment he discombobulated me. Then I shook myself. “No younger men and no guys with money.”

  He frowned. “Isn’t that a little judgmental?”

  I winced and dragged my gaze from his to Milly, thinking a woman might understand my reasoning better as I explained, “I’ve dated two younger men—”

  “How old are you?” Milly interrupted.

  “Thirty-three.”

  Her face was expressionless as she nodded.

  “As I was saying, I’ve dated two younger men—well, I’ve dated one and then there was Aaron, who was twenty-eight, but he doesn’t count as a boyfriend. Although, it weirdly felt like we were dating. I don’t know. Anyway, they both proved to be emotionally immature and a waste of my energy. It just makes sense to me I don’t go down that road again.

  “As for my rule against dating men with money, well, I’ve had that one since college. Chace. Chace Miller. My high school sweetheart. He grew up on the West Side and I grew up on the East. I didn’t have money. He did. We met at the movies when I was fifteen, got into Northwestern together, and we dated until sophomore year of college.” I looked down at Shadow, suddenly unable to meet anybody’s eyes. “I knew deep down he’d never treated me well. But it wasn’t until my best friend Greer started to hound me about his behavior, I realized I had to break it off. He always made these comments, little offhand comments that he tried to sell as jokes, that I was lucky to be dating him. And he’d condescend to me about things, especially about cars and clothes and anything materialistic, mansplaining these things because I hadn’t grown up with money like he had.

  “And I realized Greer was right. I’d been so grateful to him for choosing me, and he
made me feel ashamed of where I came from. Inferior. There was no balance between us.” Finally, I looked up and saw Milly staring at me in sympathy. “Years of this subtle negativity had a big effect. He fucked with my self-esteem and it took a long time for me to fix what he broke.”

  “He sounds like a prick,” Roane said. “You shouldn’t shut yourself off from different people because of one bad example.”

  I smiled at him. “You’re probably right but I’d rather not take the chance, Farmer Robson.”

  For a moment we just looked at each other, his lips pressed together as if I’d displeased him. The desire to lean over and kiss those gorgeous lips was so strong, I reared back to stop myself.

  Roane’s eyebrows drew together.

  “I’ll get us another round,” Dexter said. “Give us a hand, Roane.”

  The men left and my cheeks burned as I realized I’d just spread most of my life story out before these strangers. I glanced sheepishly at Milly. “I don’t think I should have another.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed, lass,” she offered kindly. “By the time your holiday is over, you’ll know all of our entire life stories. That’s just the way it is in Alnster.”

  My eyes seemed to move across the room to Roane with a mind of their own. “Everyone knows each other, huh?”

  “Aye. And Roane Robson is a well-known bachelor along the entire coast.”

  This knowledge irritated and disappointed me. “A player?”

  “Oh God, no.”

  Milly’s vehemence surprised me.

  She shook her head. “You must have noticed he’s a grand-looking man. He’s got his share of admirers, locals and tourists, but he’s no lothario. In fact, he’s the opposite. Never met a man more monogamous than Roane. He gets a right ribbing from the men round here for it. But he is who he is, and he never shows an interest in tourists.” She grinned. “Unless they save his best friend’s life.” She nodded to Shadow before looking back at me. “And have legs that go on forever.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already told him I’ve sworn off men. This is a friendly drink to say thank you for saving Shadow.”

  Milly chuckled. “If you say so.”

  A few minutes later Dexter and Roane returned, and over the course of the next few hours I overimbibed as I was introduced to more locals; people whose names I forgot as soon as they said them . . . because things got very foggy. The last thing I remembered was finishing the sixth bottle of cider.

  * * *

  • • •

  Which was probably why the next thing I remembered was waking up in bed with Roane Robson.

  Six

  The shock of seeing Roane’s handsome sleeping face on the pillow next to mine caused me to jolt upward, and with that sudden movement, a huge wave of nausea rose from my gut. Clasping my mouth, I threw myself off the bed and momentarily panicked as the world spun. Pushing through the dizziness, I lurched into the master bathroom and got the toilet lid up in time.

  Ugh, vomiting was miserable.

  And my body just didn’t seem to want to stop.

  As the worst of it began to settle and I rested my head over the bowl, trying to catch my breath and pretty much luxuriate in my misery, I realized there were gentle hands on me. One was holding my hair away from my face, while the other rubbed my back in comfort.

  Roane.

  An image of what I’d woken up to flashed across my mind.

  Roane, fully dressed, sleeping above the duvet on my bed.

  Spitting up the last of the bile, I flinched at the sudden appearance of a washcloth in my face and with shaking hands took it from Roane. Wiping my mouth, I slumped back against the side of the bathtub and watched, pained, as Roane flushed the toilet.

  Fragile.

  The best word to describe how I felt with the hangover from hell was “fragile.” Like I might break apart at any second. My head pounded, my throat burned, and I felt sick, light-headed, and shaky.

  Basically, I felt like I’d poisoned myself, which I had.

  Why was Roane here?

  I glanced down at myself. I was still wearing the same clothes from last night, so I hadn’t gotten undressed at any point. I didn’t think.

  Looking none the worse for wear, Roane strolled out of the bathroom and returned a minute later with two glasses of water and Shadow on his heels. The huge dog came right up to me, towering over me as Roane handed me the glass of water and two pills.

  “Take those and then I’ll make a quick breakfast before I leave for the farm.”

  Seriously, why was he here? Had something happened last night between us?

  Oh God. I hoped not. Not like that.

  Not at all! I reminded myself.

  “What time is it?” I asked, scratching Shadow behind the ear.

  “Just before five in the morning.”

  I nodded and took the pills, finishing the water in a few gulps.

  While I did this, I watched Roane’s expression veer between amusement and concern.

  There was no way I didn’t look like shit. Still in my clothes from last night, I studied my legs for any new bruises and was grateful to find none. Hopefully that meant I hadn’t done any falling down.

  “Come on.” Roane held out his hand. “Let’s get some food in you.”

  My stomach revolted at the idea. “Please no,” I begged, even though I took his hand.

  He slowly helped me to my feet, and although there was nausea and dizziness, I seemed to have emptied all the contents of my stomach for now. “You have to eat something.”

  Leading me by the hand, Roane brought me to the living area and sat me down on a stool at the kitchen counter. It was still dark outside, so the kitchen lights felt overly bright to my sore, hungover eyes.

  “Why are you here?” I finally asked.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator. “You were wasted last night. So drunk I was worried you might get sick in your sleep. I brought you home and stayed to watch over you.” He turned back to the refrigerator. “I must have fallen asleep too.”

  Warmth spread through me. “That was a nice thing to do.”

  “Aye, well.” Roane grinned as he pulled eggs out of the fridge. “I owe you.”

  Somehow I thought it was something Roane would do for a friend even if that friend hadn’t saved his dog’s life. Watching him as he pottered around the kitchen making me a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast (which I did not want to eat), I realized I wasn’t embarrassed.

  Shouldn’t I be mortified to have this gorgeous man witness me drunk and then throwing up the next morning? There was no way I didn’t have mascara streaks on my cheeks and that my pallor wasn’t deathly pale.

  All of this should have made me self-conscious, uneasy. Especially since he was a stranger.

  And yet, just like last night, I felt weirdly comfortable sitting in silence as he made breakfast while Shadow waited patiently at his feet for any scraps.

  “Thank you,” I said as he placed a plate before me. He took the stool beside me to dig into his own plate of food. “For everything.”

  He gave me that boyish smile I liked too much. “It’s what friends do.”

  “And you want to be friends, even though I’m leaving in less than four weeks?”

  Swallowing the bite of food he’d taken, Roane nodded. “I do.”

  Forcing myself to take a forkful of eggs into my mouth, I concentrated on keeping them down before replying, “Is it because I saved Shadow?”

  “What?”

  “That you’re going out of your way”—I gestured to the food, but the gesture encapsulated the entire night—“to be my friend?”

  Roane shook his head. “It started with that. Now it’s because I like you.”

  I snorted. “I got drunk, blurted out nearly my entire
life story to a pub full of strangers, and then you had to babysit me all night and hold my hair back while I threw up. Yes, I can absolutely see why all of that would endear me to you.”

  Chuckling, he shrugged. “You do have a certain charm, that’s true.”

  Rolling my eyes, I pushed the food around on my plate. “I’m a mess.”

  I hadn’t meant for those words to sound so melancholy, but they brought about my companion’s intense regard.

  “Let me ask you a question.” Roane turned his body toward me. “Why did you really come here?”

  My head was pounding, I still felt nauseated and irritable with it, but out of gratitude I indulged a question that had a very complicated answer. At least it felt that way. “If I stayed, I would have spiraled into a depression, and it’s harder to pull yourself out of that black hole than to fight getting sucked into it in the first place. So, I came here.”

  “Why would you have been depressed? What are you avoiding feeling?”

  “Feeling like a failure. I came here to find some meaning in my life. To find out what I want from my life.”

  “Career-wise?”

  “That. And . . .” I glanced shyly down at my plate. “And love.”

  “In what way?”

  Looking up at Roane, seeing the genuine curiosity in his expression, the shyness, the vulnerability I felt about my love life—or lack thereof—eased. “Am I really lonely, or do I only think I should feel lonely because society dictates that I should be in a long-term relationship?”

  His brow furrowed and he gestured for me to continue.

  “Sometimes after a long day at work where I’d been especially productive and useful, I’d come home, I’d order takeout, watch Netflix, and then I’d get in my big comfy bed that takes up most of my studio apartment and I’d switch on my e-reader. For an hour before bed, I’d sit there, warm, safe, and engrossed in a great story. And I’d feel content.” I turned toward him so our knees touched. “Because not everyone has that in their life. There is a lot of darkness out there, a darkness that some people don’t want to think about. Human trafficking, modern slave labor, extreme poverty, homelessness . . . Not everyone gets to spend their nights in a warm bed, enjoying books. Maybe some people think my life is pathetic, but my life would be a dream to some people. What right do I have to whine about wanting more from my life, when what I have is more than some people can ever imagine having? I’m privileged in a way that doesn’t have to do with great wealth. I’m privileged by comforts we take for granted, like education, having food in the refrigerator, a roof over my head, heat, clean water, and easy access to books. A life that has been blessedly free of violence.