Why Not Tonight
Page 11

“Have you eaten?”
She shook her head. “I was trying to figure out what I wanted, although it would probably make more sense to see what you have and then decide on something.”
“Breakfast or lunch?”
“I’m open.”
“Let’s make it brunch. Omelets okay?”
“Sure.”
He headed to the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients. He stacked eggs, cheese, a red pepper and mushrooms on the counter, then pulled a box from the freezer and handed it to her. Based on her reaction to the hot chocolate, he had a feeling she would be all in.
She read the label and groaned. “Cinnamon buns? What are you doing to me?”
“You don’t want one?”
“I want all of them, but one will do.”
He turned on the oven and got out a baking sheet, then washed his hands and began chopping up the pepper.
“How do you know how to do all this?” she asked. “You’re very handy in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have expected it.”
“Mathias and I moved out when we were maybe twenty-two. Neither of us was crazy about takeout every night, so we took a couple of cooking classes. It was fun and we learned the basics.”
“And it was yet another weapon in your attracting-women arsenal.”
“Asking or telling?”
She grinned. “Oh, I’m telling.”
He was surprised. While he used to be very successful with women, in the past few years he’d stopped trying. He preferred to be alone. So how would Natalie know whether he had an arsenal or not?
He finished prepping the vegetables about the time the oven chimed that it had reached the right temperature. He slid the cinnamon rolls into the oven and set the timer, then poured more coffee and joined Natalie at the island.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.
“About five hours. I’ll take a nap later and then stay up tonight.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “You have great coverage up here.”
“There’s a tower on the edge of the property. It’s close to the hiking trails. I think the state put it in for search and rescue teams.”
“Makes sense.” She pushed a couple of buttons. “Would you say you have a moral compass?”
The question surprised him. “Don’t most people? Yes, and I try to follow it.”
“Me, too. I hate to lie. I feel icky and then I can never remember. Better to just be honest.” She paused. “Do you think people are basically good, but sometimes misguided, or do you believe there are actually evil people?”
He hesitated. Most people were basically good but there were others who seemed to be following a separate set of rules, like his father. Ceallach Mitchell wasn’t evil, but he rarely showed compassion and thought kindness was for suckers. At the same time, he expected those around him to rotate in the orbit of his greatness and be grateful for the opportunity. No, his father wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t good, either. Ronan wasn’t sure if—
He grabbed her phone and stared at the screen. The app logo made him shudder. “You said we weren’t going to play this game anymore. I’m not going to be your sperm donor.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought the questions were interesting.” She smiled. “I hadn’t realized you were so emotionally delicate.”
“I’m a typical guy who doesn’t want unexpected children wandering around.”
Her smile turned impish. “That would be your moral compass at work.”
“Good to know it’s working.” He glanced at the timer, then got up and began cracking eggs into a bowl. “Are you serious about having a baby on your own?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m playing with the idea. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fall in love.”
“You don’t really believe you’re unlucky in love, do you? You can’t base all your decisions on the actions of a single jerk.”
She hesitated just long enough for him to know there was more to the story. Something she wasn’t telling him.
“He was a jerk who said he wanted to marry me and then changed his mind.”
“That’s on him, not you.”
He got out a twelve-inch pan, figuring he’d make one big omelet, then cut it in half. He tossed the vegetables into the pan to begin to sauté.
“It was one guy, Natalie.”
“My high school romance ended badly. He cheated.”
“That was high school, and if you want to use those two men to plot a course for the rest of your romantic life, have you considered the problem might be your choices rather than a cosmically determined fate?”
She winced. “It’s very early to be so judgmental.” She sipped her coffee. “You’re saying I have bad taste rather than bad luck?”
“I’m suggesting it might be something to consider before you jump into having a baby on your own.”
“I’m not jumping.”
“You’re practicing for your interviews.”
“I guess you’re right. I have been looking at adoption, but it’s not easy if you’re single.”
He kept the vegetables moving in the pan. When they were nearly done, he dumped them back onto the cutting board, then wiped out the pan. The oven chimed. He turned it off and set the cookie sheet onto a cooling rack, then added butter to the frying pan.
“What do you really want?” he asked, swirling the melting butter in the pan.
“What everyone does. To belong. To have family, to feel safe and loved and be the most important person in someone’s life.”
He glanced up in time to see her mouth twist. He had the most ridiculous need to go over and somehow make things better, although he had no idea how. Her desires required more than a friendly hug.
“You’re talking about finding a partner, not having a child. Kids grow up and leave. Unless you’re planning to keep him or her locked in the basement.”
“I don’t have a basement, and no, I’m not creepy. I just want...”
To be loved.
She didn’t say the words, but then, she didn’t have to. He heard them. He supposed nearly everyone wanted that. He had, at one time. Back before everything had changed, he’d assumed that one day he would fall in love, get married and have kids. All his brothers were married. He was, as they often put it, the last dog standing.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she admitted as he poured the whipped eggs into the hot pan. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
He grinned. “You love it.”
“That will depend on whether or not the cinnamon rolls are frosted.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“They wouldn’t be cinnamon rolls without frosting.”
She smiled. “You’re the best host ever. I may never leave.”
Words that should have scared the crap out of him but didn’t. And what was up with that?
* * *
NATALIE WATCHED THE clock with a sense of anticipation. It was nearly midnight. She’d worked all evening, beginning the process of turning her flawed painting into mixed-media magic. She’d already done a quick sketch on thick paper that she’d mounted on canvas. Now came the painstaking work of layering in the various elements. Around eleven she’d started to feel restless, as if waiting for something important.