The door clicked shut.
The man in front of me advanced, his presence suddenly dangerous.
“If I remember correctly, your flight landed at eleven. It’s now two in the afternoon. Three hours, and you’re already meeting up with your ex–husband?”
I poked his toned abdomen playfully.
“Ronan…”
My hand was instantly captured, his voice a low growl. “Don’t try to change the subject.”
I tugged at the hem of his shirt, my eyes downcast.
A large hand tilted my chin up. The moment our eyes met, Ronan let out a short, humorless laugh.
“I haven’t even started with you yet. What are you crying for?”
I sniffled. “I missed you so much…”
After the divorce, I moved south and opened a small bed–and–breakfast in a quiet town.
The town was warm in the winter and cool in the summer, filled with kind, genuine people. Being around them bealed something in my
12:19 PM
&
The town was warm in the winter and cool in the summer, filled with kind, genuine people.
Being around them healed something in me.
Within a year, my little guesthouse had built a good reputation, and business was no longer as slow as it had been at the
start.
Ronan Finch was the most reclusive of all my guests.
He spent most of his time in his room, never coming out.
Only when the courtyard was empty would he appear on the terrace.
At first, I worried something might happen to him, and I found myself subconsciously keeping an eye on his movements. Until one day, as I was sunbathing in the courtyard, he walked over to me and asked with a half–smile:
“Do I really look like the type to give up on life?”
I looked up, surprised.
He settled into the rocking chair next to mine, sprawling out with a lazy grace.
“I heard you on the phone.”
My face flushed with embarrassment.
Last night, I’d been talking to my best friend, Paige, and mentioned him.
I’d said, “He’s incredibly handsome. It would be a real shame if he… you know.”
I never thought he’d overhear.
As I sat there in awkward silence, Ronan suddenly asked, “You don’t guesthouse here?”
U
ceem like a
local. What made you decide to open a
I made something up. “Too much money, too much time on my hands.”
his ch
A low, pleasant laugh rumbled in his chest.
couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, and my breath caught. The sight was stunning.
The man was resting his head on his arm, gazing at the horizon.
His jawline was sharp and clean, his profile as perfect as a classical sculpture.
Donovan had always been considered handsome, but Ronan was on another level entirely.
He must have felt my gaze because he turned his head and met my eyes.
I don’t remember who looked away first. I only remember that from that day on, the air between us shifted, charged with a subtle, unspoken energy.
The day everything changed, Ronan and I went hiking.
On our way down the mountain, the sky turned dark, and as storm.broke.
By the time we got back to the guesthouse, we were both soaked to the bone.
That night, my fever returned. I woke up to get some medicine and shattered a glass.
Ronan kicked the door in.
Maybe it was a trick of the light or a fever–induced hallucination, but I could have sworn I saw raw fear in his eyes the moment he burst in.
Then, when he saw me, the fear was instantly replaced by overwhelming relief.
The sickness hit me hard. I was bedridden for five days, and Ronan took care of me for
He moved his instruments into my room, and that’s how I found out he was a singer. “Does that mean you could leave at any time?” I asked, clutching a mug of hot water. He didn’t answer, instead asking, “Do you want me to leave?”
I said nothing.
He took the mug from my hands and then, without warning, he kissed me
every single one of them.
His fiery breath seared through me. I gripped his shirt, my heart hammering against my ribs, certain it would burst. After that day, Ronan became the new master of the guesthouse.
Changing lightbulbs, fixing wobbly chairs–it all became his job.
The other guests often teased him. “You’re so capable! The beautiful owner should just marry you already.” Whenever they did, he would turn to me and ask:
“So, when are you going to marry me?”
I would always laugh it off.
He’d pretend not to care, but later, when we were alone, he would find ways to punish me.
Even my pleas for mercy would be ignored.
I thought those days would last forever, but one day, Ronan just disappeared.
I asked the other guests. They shrugged.
“Where else could he go? A guy that looks like Ronan, in that industry? Probably ran off with some rich patron.”
And today was the first time I’d seen him since he’d vanished without a word.
The more I thought about it, the more miserable I felt, and the tears fell faster. Ronan watched me, his expression unreadable, waiting for me to explain.
But I didn’t speak, just cried.
After a long moment, the man whose face had been a mask of thunderous anger just a moment before, sighed in defeat. He cupped my face in his hands. “I’m so screwed. I’m completely wrapped around your little finger.”
“So are you leaving again?”
