Page 14 of Thanks for Coming Along

"Hang on," Eden murmured as she gracefully crawled toward him. He attempted to avert his eyes from the low neckline of her shirt, but he still caught a glance of her generous cleavage. He quickly averted his eyes, but the image lingered in his mind. He took a sharp intake through his nose. She brushed past him, and he felt the warmth of her breath against the nape of his neck as she settled in behind him. Her nearness was electrifying, her scent seemed to envelop him entirely. Her slender arm reached around his waist, and he could feel the silky strands of her hair grazing his bare forearm, sending chills racing up his arm.

"Put your fingers on an A chord." Her breath softly brushed his ear, and he resisted the urge to shudder at the sensation. He put his finger in the proper spot. She began strumming the guitar around his waist.

"Now a G chord." Her voice was a little lower. He switched his finger placement again. She strummed again.

"Now you try," she said, clearing her throat and stepping back. He turned to face her, then began playing the chords to "Wonderwall" by Oasis, moving smoothly through the chords and strumming patterns. Her eyebrows shot up, eyes wide as she watched him nail it. A laugh bubbled out of her, followed by a snort as she tried to hold it together.

"Holy shit, Ronan! You said you couldn't play." He smiled and started laughing. Eden was laughing so hard she was holding her stomach.

"Well, to be fair, you asked if I currently play, which I don't," Ronan responded, chuckling with her. "How do you think I managed to attract female attention in college? 'Wonderwall' secured me at least a solid two dates in my lifetime."

Eden, her laughter now subsiding, leaned back on her hands, her gaze fixed on him with genuine admiration. "It's really hot," she playfully remarked, her teeth gently tugging at her lower lip as she watched him play. Ronan felt blood rush to his dick, and he shifted the guitar slightly, acutely aware of the effect she had on him.

He couldn't help but think back to his research from last night. He had limited time at the beginning of the project to delve fully into her past. He initially focused on her music because he had reservations about intruding into someone's privacy. However, to be a thorough journalist, he had to look at all the information to get the best possible story.

As he clicked through the articles about her spanning the last few years, he encountered Liam's proposal in Paris, witnessing Eden's initial shock and eventual acceptance. He saw the TMZ article about Liam cheating. He couldn't bear to read that one. Then, there are various articles labeling her a "hot mess" and snapshots of her during that dark period of her life. It was tough for him to look at, knowing all the struggles she had faced during that time in her life.

He also saw the headline for the article of Eden and Quentin on a breakfast date. He had felt a strange sinking feeling reading that headline, but he didn't want to analyze that feeling. It's not like Eden would be interested in a boring journalist anyway. More importantly, he would never cross the line of their professional relationship. It was almost a relief that Eden was dating Quentin. It repelled any type of romantic thoughts that he might have about her. Okay, maybe not repelled completely, but it helped quell that voice inside his head, the part that was incredibly drawn to her.

Eden and Quentin being together made sense. They were on the same level. Quentin was anactualsuperhero, and there was no way Ronan was competing with that. He had seen the trailers of his movies; Quentin Ramos was America's golden boy with beefed-up muscles and a sharp jawline. Quentin was clean-cut and always pleasant, while Ronan's edges were definitely not clean-cut. His edges were unruly and needed a severe trim.

"Thank you for the lesson. I'll be sure to apply your teachings at my next open mic night," Ronan replied with a hint of humor, attempting to cool the fire that still seemed to course through his veins.

"Anything for my star pupil. I want an invite to this open mic night, by the way," Eden responded, her eyes sparkling.

"I honestly don't think you could handle my scat singing. Especially once my fedora comes out," Ronan said sarcastically with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

"A fedora? Now, that is true showmanship. I think I would sell my firstborn to get a front-row seat to that," Eden smiled excitedly.

"You would have to fight off my groupies to get the front row. I don't think they would take kindly to you encroaching on their turf," Ronan scratched his stubble thoughtfully.

"I could take them. I do have a best friend who is part Rottweiler."

"Details, please."

9

Ronan

Eden and Ronan sat on a thick falsa blanket, watching the sun dip behind the ocean. The sky lit up with fiery oranges and soft pinks, while the waves crashed steadily on the shore. Ronan stretched his long legs out in front of him, feeling a sense of calm wash over him with each wave.

Eden recounted the events of "Pushgate" as she had deemed it, while they ate take-out Chinese food on the beach. Eden told the story with the energy of a small child, her hands waving while her eyes were dramatically wide. He was on the edge of his seat, gasping at the proper moments. His enthusiasm seemed to excite her more, and she eventually acted out the scene on the sand. Ronan couldn't help but laugh at the display, Eden demonstrating the exact trajectory that her ass ricocheted off the sticky floor of the club. Eventually, Eden came back to her lo mein, and they ate in compatible silence for a few minutes.

The last remnants of the sun were dipping behind the shoreline. Eden was cast in golden light, with the cotton candy blue and pink sky swirling above her, her golden skin illuminated in the dusk light.

"Tell me about your last relationship since you know so much about mine," Eden asked as she chewed her lo mein from a pair of chopsticks.

"Well, there isn't much to know. I was in a relationship with my ex, Melanie, for the better part of two years. She ended things around 10 months ago." As he spoke, the memory of her breakup email resurfaced. She had sent it to him while he was overseas on an assignment. It had been a moment of painful clarity for him.

"It was challenging to maintain the relationship, especially with the nature of my job. I was often away for months at a time, and she wasn't happy with that." Melanie's decision to end things hadn't come as a complete shock to him. He was almost relieved in a way that she had called it quits first. He did care about her, but being away for such long periods of time made it difficult to progress their relationship. Melanie's email made him reflect on how little effort he had invested in their relationship, and he had been wracked with guilt.

He had offered a heartfelt apology in response, and to his surprise, Melanie had been understanding but had called him emotionally unavailable. To be fair, she wasn't wrong. His work had always been all-consuming, a reality he had become accustomed to over the years. He recently realized that he was ready for a change. That was partially the reason he wanted to do this documentary. He needed a change from the consuming nature of war reporting, and this seemed like as good a way as any to change the pace.

"What was she like?" Eden asked, her eyes fixed on him.

"Melanie," he began, his voice softening, "she's a children's author—very sweet and gentle. We crossed paths at the BNN office," Ronan continued. "I had just started my career as a war correspondent back then, and I bumped into her at the water cooler." The memory brought a faint smile to his lips. In those early days at BNN, Ronan had been confined to a cubicle, working his way up the ladder.

"Then came the international assignment," he explained. "I was offered a position stationed in Egypt six months into our relationship. My job was to film interviews with local people and government officials. It often meant weeks without an internet connection, isolating me from my family and Melanie. I was embedded with a counter-terrorism group, and they had pretty strict rules on when and where we could have electronics." His chopsticks absently picked at the chicken fried rice.

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