Page 16 of Small Town Firsts
Jesus.
Ronan was also dealing with the ungodly heat, but instead of looking wilted like me and my gross T-shirt, he was wearing a black tank tucked into his battered jeans.
A heavy Celtic knot design on his buckle cut the black denim and cotton and made his tight abs even more defined. His shoulders and arms were slick with sweat and grime and so many freaking muscles. Not to mention the sleeve of Celtic artwork that made my mouth water.
Mercy.
He was drinking from a large metal water bottle as he stared me down.
I hated when he did that.
No unnecessary words out of this one. Just expectantly waiting as he chugged the water too fast and it dripped down into his beard and finally disappeared along his bristled neck.
His neat beard had grown out a bit in the week since our first meeting. We’d both been too busy to talk much. At least I’d been able to avoid him.
Damn him for being an early riser like me.
I liked coming in before my small staff and getting a jump on the to-do list before everyone started asking me questions and expecting me to know who should be assigned to do what.
He looked around then set his water on the floor and came forward to move the large square table over to where I’d placed a barrel. He seemed to think for a moment, then he nodded.
“It’s a good space.”
I picked at the cuticle on my thumb and resisted the urge to move the table back where it had been. An empty space was what it was, and I really hadn’t let anyone else into my head about it. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugged, jangling the Celtic charms tangled in the wet curls that escaped his intricate series of braids. The fact that I wanted to help him unravel all those little braids and massage his scalp was something I was working on forgetting.
Mostly.
He finally spoke and that rumbly voice of his made me want to massage something else. Crap on a cracker, that man was distracting.
“The barrel offers some privacy and a few of them would make a nice path through the room. Organically.”
“Yes.” Excitement overrode the attraction nonsense, making my agreement louder than I’d intended. I tried to temper the urge to share what I’d been thinking, but maybe I shouldn’t. He was kind of an outside source. “Maybe some boxes instead of just crates?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. More jangles from the beads he wore on his thick wrist, and why oh why did all those muscles have to flex and move?
And he wasn’t doing the obnoxious douche who loved showing off his body kind of flexing, it was just that he couldn’t really keep still. It was my problem that I thought about mounting him more than I should.
Yeah. Mounting.
Even the word was more growly and earthy, like him. What was my problem? I was a healthy red-blooded woman, but sex really didn’t sit in the forefront of my mind on the regular.
“Yeah. I like it. If you wanted to shill some products, you could do a plexiglass encasement with a bottle of the high end spirits too. Creatively.”
I frowned and grabbed my iPad from the bench. “I know a few artists in the area. I’ll ask around.” I made a few quick notes. “Shilling, huh?” Amusement laced my voice.
He grinned and his very sharp canine flashed charmingly from the harsh line of his lips. Licking it would be bad. “Money tends to be the bottom line for most people.”
“Money is nice, yes.” I’d have to see if it was feasible with our current budget. But maybe a few of those displays to spice up the space could work.
He walked closer to me and my heart knocked hard against my chest. He was so freaking big. Curiosity lit his cognac-colored eyes. “Nice?From my experience, women, especially manager types, get more than a little excited about the prospect of money.”
“You must have known some…interesting people.”
He huffed out a harsh laugh. “I’m a city boy, Kira. Interesting people are a way of life.”
“Funny, you look more like a Viking.”
