seconds before breaking into a laugh.
“A new set of carving knives,” he admitted, rubbing his hands together with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning.
The chef and gardener left together and then I turned my attention to the butler.
“And you, Benson?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Or should I say Benedict?”
Ronan groaned when Benson cracked a smile and said, “A top-of-the-line at-home massaging foot bath.”
I nodded, impressed.
“Not bad,” I said. “Though I think you could have milked it for a little more.”
Benson drummed his fingers on his knees as Ronan pouted petulantly over the dish of mac and cheese.
“Do you think I could have gotten a tanning bed?” he finally asked.
“Absolutely,” I said. “You know, Benson, you need to know your own worth. And demand it. You should have made him buy you a dozen tanning beds.”
“I’m sitting right here!” Ronan whined loudly.
Benson winked at me and rose before nodding to Ronan and exiting the library. That left only Ronan and me, sitting directly across from one another. He crossed his arms irritably and I did the same. He huffed; I huffed. He glared; I glared.
Finally I asked, “Do you have a plan B, Mr O’Hara?”
Ronan exhaled slowly and loudly. He rolled his eyes. He stabbed the spoon into the mac and cheese.
“I guess we could go into town,” he mumbled.
I tried not to grin, but it was very difficult. “And?”
Ronan stared petulantly at the floor. “And I guess we could go shopping,” he grumbled low and begrudgingly.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “And?” I pressed even further.
Ronan’s feet fidgeted. “And I guess we could go to the salon.”
I stood and walked the short distance across the dark, creaky floorboards to where Ronan sat. I put my lips to his ear and whispered very softly.
“And?”
Ronan relented with an exaggerated huff. “And the spa.”
I slapped his cheek, just like he did in the hallway after talking to his friends, hard, just like he did.
“Good boy,” I said. “I’ll take this.”
Ronan resisted at first, his fingers tightening on the edges of the casserole dish, but I yanked and he let it slip through his grip.
“I’m picking your dress!” he called after me as I went toward the library doors.
“Nope.”
“I’m choosing your make-up.”
“Still no.”
“We’re doing your hair the way I say we’re doing your hair.”
I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
I nudged the handle down with my elbow and as I stepped out into the hallway, I caught Benson with his ear pressed against the wood grain of the opposite door. He blushed and cleared his throat sheepishly as he averted his eyes. I smiled.
“You wanted to hear if we’re going to the spa or not?” I asked, eyeing him in amusement.
“No, no, of course not,” Benson said, shaking his head. “I was checking the door for dust. For dust and, ummm—”
“He said ‘yes’,” I said, interrupting. “Just in case you couldn’t hear through the umm, dust.”
Benson remained the constant professional, hiding his obvious delight. “Very good, Ms Evans,” was all he said. “Very good.”
After spinning on his heel, he practically skipped down the hallway. I laughed because it felt like we were a minivan away from being a little family. With a mouthful of mac and cheese, I went to find my shoes and realised the anxiety I had been experiencing had dissipated.
An even more strange realisation followed directly after: I wasn’t sure I could thank the mac and cheese.
I glanced back at the library just as Ronan stepped out into the hallway.
“What?” he asked, spotting me staring at him.
I shook my head.
“Nothing,” I said, turning and walking away from him. “Nothing.”
Ronan
For the Solstice Ball my plan of attack was to paint Delaney as a blank slate. I wanted her to be the canvas on which the distinguished ladies and gentlemen of high society could paint their hushed gossips. I needed her to raise questions so that I could pluck up the answers like a bouquet of roses. I intended Delaney to be a mystery because I knew even the primmest and the most proper couldn’t resist a juicy mystery.
So despite Delaney’s protest and pouting, I selected for her a simple black dress for the Solstice Ball.
But nothing on Delaney was simple.
Even in the dim light of the back seat of the town car, even with the black of her dress against the black of the leather seats, even with the glare of streetlamps along the city streets dampened by tinted