“Do you think he’ll agree to it?” Elle asked, glancing at me.
“I do,” Ronan said. “Mind if I grab a coffee? Smelled it from my room.”
“Help yourself,” I said, happy to change the subject, and he went to get a mug. He already knew where all the basics were kept. He looked quite at home in my kitchen, a fact that Elle seemed to notice, as she watched him fix himself a coffee with a generous heap of sugar—or three. “He likes his sugar with coffee and cream,” I muttered.
Ronan looked up. “What?”
“It’s a reference to a Beastie Boys song,” Elle informed him, never missing a beat. I smiled as I sipped my coffee.
He went back to stirring his.
Elle’s eyes met mine, one of her slender, arched eyebrows peaking.
“Fuck off,” I hiss-whispered at her behind my mug.
She grinned.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Ronan said, then headed back to his room. I watched him cross the living room and disappear down the hall, admiring his broad, muscular body under the thin sweater and snug jeans.
I actually bit my lip.
Elle poked my shoulder.
“What?” I snapped, turning back to her. “Don’t be a bitch. He’s hot. I know.”
“Oh, good. Then you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t notice.”
“No, I’m not.”
“So?” she prodded.
“So what?”
“Well, you seem to know how he likes his coffee. Is that symbolic?”
“Of what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of you two already sleeping together.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Hmm. Last I heard you seemed to have quite a thing for bodyguards.”
Now I rolled my eyes. “I told you. My misguided little crush on Flynn is over.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. I don’t think I was really even into him.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“I mean, maybe we’d have some halfway hot but awkward sex. What the hell would we talk about? We don’t have chemistry. Anyway, hard to have chemistry with a man who’s heart belongs to someone else.”
“Right. How’s the matchmaking going? Did you figure out who the lucky girl is yet?”
“Well, I’ve been a little preoccupied with other things—”
“I noticed.”
“I meant, the creep almost breaking into my house and the impending restraining order?”
“Right.”
“But I’ll figure it out. I love a challenge.”
“I know you do. How much of a challenge do you think Mr. Sterling will present?”
I sighed with lustful frustration. “I don’t know. I’m really not in the mood to chase a man right now.”
“What if he decides to chase you?”
“He’s my bodyguard. Seems pretty clear that’s not happening.” I hesitated, then admitted, “He politely asked me not to flirt with him.”
Yeah, Elle fucking loved that one. A huge grin spread across her face.
“Stop smiling.”
“Oh, he gets my vote,” she said. “Maybe when this whole mess is dealt with and he’s not your bodyguard anymore, you can revisit the idea?”
Well, shit. I did not like the sound of that. At all.
Ronan, not my bodyguard. Not living in my house. Not helping himself to coffee from my kitchen.
Not around all the time… making me feel safe.
“Why wouldn’t he be my bodyguard anymore?”
Elle’s steely-gray eyes narrowed at me. “Oooh. You do like him.”
“Of course I like him. He’s what, two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of solid, sculpted muscle, protecting me? And have you seen his hands? His eyes? Did you see his butt?”
“Oh, I saw all of it. He was right here.”
“And he’s very professional. It’s all very…”
“Hot.”
I groaned. “I love a man with a serious work ethic.”
“I know you do.”
“Partying is fun. I mean, for me, it’s a way of life. But when it comes to men, serious relationships with men, I don’t like fluff. I’ve had enough of that. I hate players. I like them smart and driven. I like winners, Elle. This one smells like a winner.”
“Hmm. From where I was sitting, he smelled like aftershave and coffee.”
“That, too. I’ll take it all.”
“Sweetie.” Elle gazed at me with sympathy. “Go easy on yourself. Get through this restraining order drama. Let him do his job. Get to know him a bit, maybe. Then see how it goes.” She slipped off her stool and put her arm around me. “You know, you once told me, when I was in a funk, that I’m solid platinum and I deserve the best. You were right, by the way. And you helped me see it. Which helped me embrace what I had with Seth. So, I’m telling you right now, you’re the rarest kind of diamond, Summer Sorensen. And you deserve it all.”
After Elle and I had our coffee and girl talk, a few of my other friends arrived. I’d asked Wendy, Jewel and Carissa to come over and help plan the party for tonight.
Ronan beat me to the front door with his long legs, and greeted them like a big, sexy, unsmiling bouncer. Though at least he didn’t ask for ID. He seemed to tolerate me introducing them instead.
When I introduced him to Wendy and Jewel, I said, “This is Ronan. He’s a superhero. Super Ronan.”
“Hi, Super Ronan,” they sang.
He shook hands with each of them, and I could practically see him making mental notes of each name and memorizing each face. Carissa was looking her usual fabulous bohemian-chic self, Wendy’s dark skin was an endless map of artful tattoos, and Jewel, in his skinny jeans and guyliner, looked like my bodyguard could snap him in half.
I wondered what Ronan was thinking, and what his friends were like.
He followed us into the living room and sat at the bar, sort of fiddling on his phone
