Why Not Tonight
Page 17
The light was perfect. Nothing like it would have been in Ronan’s turret, but still, plenty for her. She’d taken the smaller second bedroom to sleep in and used the master as her at-home art studio.
She fixed herself a sad little frozen dinner and made herbal tea, all the while thinking longingly of German hot chocolate and marshmallows and charming conversation and the man who had delighted her at every turn...right up until he’d resisted her advances.
“No means no,” she whispered, stirring the slightly gummy spaghetti and trying to find humor in her battered heart.
Not battered, she told herself. Embarrassed. There was a difference. Ronan had done what he thought was right to protect her and she needed to respect that. Her hurt feelings were her problem.
She ate her dinner, then carried her tea to her studio. She’d brought the dragon picture with her, but none of Ronan’s supplies, which meant she would be changing direction partway through.
She touched the iridescent discs and the brass paper clips that covered part of one wing and a little of the body. Should she just surrender to failure and start something else? If she changed direction now she would have to...
She put the framed canvas on the long craft table, then went into the master closet. It was good-sized and she’d crammed it with bookshelves, plastic trays and drawers, all filled with odds and ends she’d found, bought or been given. There were those buttons her friend Violet had let her have for practically nothing. Weren’t they iridescent? The shape and thickness were different, but that didn’t matter.
She found the buttons along with some dark green feathers, brass-colored wire and half a yard of midnight blue velvet. She grabbed a bag of black volcanic glass and her trusty glue gun, then went back into her studio.
There were so many possibilities, she thought happily as she spread out all her supplies, then began to play with combinations. It was only midnight. If she concentrated, she might have the piece done by morning and then she would show it to...
She pressed her lips together. It had been three nights. Just over seventy-two hours. She would finish the piece for herself and decide if she wanted to take it to the gallery to see if Atsuko was interested in showing it. No one else’s opinion mattered. She liked her life exactly as it was and now she had it back. She was happy about that. Really.
* * *
RONAN DROVE DOWN the mountain much earlier than he’d first planned. The long night had convinced him there was no way he could work in his private studio, so he’d emailed his interns and told them to meet him in town, where they would all get to work on his commission. He was ready, he was eager and most of all he was missing Natalie, but damn it all to hell, he couldn’t admit that to anyone—not even himself.
He arrived at the studio behind Willow Gallery. The rear parking lot was empty. Ronan went inside and flipped on lights, then started the process of bringing the huge oven up to temperature. He studied the to-scale drawing on the wall—it was exactly the same as the one he had at home and detailed every part of the intricate design. The hundreds of individual pieces would be connected on-site.
By eight, both Nick and Mathias had arrived. His brothers looked alike with dark hair and eyes, both around six feet tall. Del and Aidan shared their physical description. Only Ronan was different, with lighter hair and green eyes. He’d always been teased about being different, his brothers joking that he wasn’t really one of them. None of them had known they were telling the truth.
Mathias grinned when he saw Ronan. “You finally made it in. Pretty slick having your road wash out. I knew there was a reason you wanted to live up in the mountains.”
“He was trying to get away from you,” Nick joked. “I take it you survived the storm.”
Ronan nodded.
Mathias glanced around, as if making sure they were alone, then asked, “With Natalie? How was that?”
“Fine. She stayed in the guest room up in the turret and used the studio there.”
He was braced for more questions. Would they guess what had almost happened, what he’d wanted to happen?
“You made her cook for you, didn’t you?” Nick asked, then chuckled. “So about her car. It’s gone?”
Ronan grimaced at the memory. “Clean off the side of the mountain. Several trees came down. The last one fell on it and carried it down the ravine. I don’t know if it can be recovered. Even if it is, it has to be totaled.”
“That will make her happy,” Nick said. “She’s wanted a new car for a while. I told her it was silly to keep replacement value on that old piece of trash, but I was wrong.”
Ronan didn’t like that his brother knew that about Natalie. “She told you?”
“Five dozen times,” Mathias said. “Bro, you need to learn to listen when people talk. She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
Ronan stiffened, only to realize his brother was talking about the car destruction, not anything else.
“She was in the house when it happened.”
“Good thing. She wouldn’t have survived that.” Mathias slapped him on the shoulder. “Good to have you back.”
“Thanks.”
Mathias and Nick retreated to their areas of the studio. Nick reviewed his email before heading out back, where he was working on a huge wood piece. Once he’d done the rough cuts with a chain saw, the twelve-foot-high block would be moved into the studio for his detail work.
Mathias spent his days creating glass dishes, light pendants and bowls in various patterns. Every now and then he created something that would be considered “art” but mostly he preferred what he called his utilitarian collection.
For years Ronan worried that Mathias had given in to their father’s judgment and was selling himself short by making everyday objects. Over the past few months Ronan had come to see that Mathias enjoyed what he did. For him, the act of creating was its own reward and having his pieces be on someone’s table mattered to him.
Nothing their father would approve of, but maybe that was part of the joy of it.
Ronan’s two interns arrived. They went to the local community college and worked for him a few hours a week. The morning went by quickly as they created piece after piece, building the parts of his installation.
A little before noon, the interns left and Ronan took a break. He drank some water, logged on to his email and checked on the new pieces, all in an effort to avoid what he really wanted to do. When he’d run out of distractions, he made his way across the parking lot to the gallery and in the back door, heading to Natalie’s office.
She sat behind her desk, her slightly frowning gaze locked on her computer. Gone were the tight curls. Instead her straight hair had been pulled back into a braid. She wore a tailored jacket over a green blouse and she was wearing makeup.
This was work Natalie—he liked this side of her but preferred laughing, playful, relaxed-at-his-house Natalie better.
The need to go to her nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to pull her to her feet, drop her glasses on the desk and kiss her senseless. Maybe unfasten her braid and a few other things. Need burned hot and bright, blinding him to the reality of where they were and the fact that they hadn’t spoken since—
“Wocka!” Natalie jumped in her chair and pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared me. When did you get so stealthy?”
“Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Color stained her cheeks. “I’m fine. The road crew guys were supernice and delivered me right to my door. I had my purse, which meant I had my keys. All is well.” She gave him a cheerful smile. “It’s really good I don’t have a cat. He would have been starving. Although I guess I would have called a neighbor or one of my friends to feed him, so he would have been fine. But I didn’t.” She cleared her throat. “What with not having a cat and all.”
She fixed herself a sad little frozen dinner and made herbal tea, all the while thinking longingly of German hot chocolate and marshmallows and charming conversation and the man who had delighted her at every turn...right up until he’d resisted her advances.
“No means no,” she whispered, stirring the slightly gummy spaghetti and trying to find humor in her battered heart.
Not battered, she told herself. Embarrassed. There was a difference. Ronan had done what he thought was right to protect her and she needed to respect that. Her hurt feelings were her problem.
She ate her dinner, then carried her tea to her studio. She’d brought the dragon picture with her, but none of Ronan’s supplies, which meant she would be changing direction partway through.
She touched the iridescent discs and the brass paper clips that covered part of one wing and a little of the body. Should she just surrender to failure and start something else? If she changed direction now she would have to...
She put the framed canvas on the long craft table, then went into the master closet. It was good-sized and she’d crammed it with bookshelves, plastic trays and drawers, all filled with odds and ends she’d found, bought or been given. There were those buttons her friend Violet had let her have for practically nothing. Weren’t they iridescent? The shape and thickness were different, but that didn’t matter.
She found the buttons along with some dark green feathers, brass-colored wire and half a yard of midnight blue velvet. She grabbed a bag of black volcanic glass and her trusty glue gun, then went back into her studio.
There were so many possibilities, she thought happily as she spread out all her supplies, then began to play with combinations. It was only midnight. If she concentrated, she might have the piece done by morning and then she would show it to...
She pressed her lips together. It had been three nights. Just over seventy-two hours. She would finish the piece for herself and decide if she wanted to take it to the gallery to see if Atsuko was interested in showing it. No one else’s opinion mattered. She liked her life exactly as it was and now she had it back. She was happy about that. Really.
* * *
RONAN DROVE DOWN the mountain much earlier than he’d first planned. The long night had convinced him there was no way he could work in his private studio, so he’d emailed his interns and told them to meet him in town, where they would all get to work on his commission. He was ready, he was eager and most of all he was missing Natalie, but damn it all to hell, he couldn’t admit that to anyone—not even himself.
He arrived at the studio behind Willow Gallery. The rear parking lot was empty. Ronan went inside and flipped on lights, then started the process of bringing the huge oven up to temperature. He studied the to-scale drawing on the wall—it was exactly the same as the one he had at home and detailed every part of the intricate design. The hundreds of individual pieces would be connected on-site.
By eight, both Nick and Mathias had arrived. His brothers looked alike with dark hair and eyes, both around six feet tall. Del and Aidan shared their physical description. Only Ronan was different, with lighter hair and green eyes. He’d always been teased about being different, his brothers joking that he wasn’t really one of them. None of them had known they were telling the truth.
Mathias grinned when he saw Ronan. “You finally made it in. Pretty slick having your road wash out. I knew there was a reason you wanted to live up in the mountains.”
“He was trying to get away from you,” Nick joked. “I take it you survived the storm.”
Ronan nodded.
Mathias glanced around, as if making sure they were alone, then asked, “With Natalie? How was that?”
“Fine. She stayed in the guest room up in the turret and used the studio there.”
He was braced for more questions. Would they guess what had almost happened, what he’d wanted to happen?
“You made her cook for you, didn’t you?” Nick asked, then chuckled. “So about her car. It’s gone?”
Ronan grimaced at the memory. “Clean off the side of the mountain. Several trees came down. The last one fell on it and carried it down the ravine. I don’t know if it can be recovered. Even if it is, it has to be totaled.”
“That will make her happy,” Nick said. “She’s wanted a new car for a while. I told her it was silly to keep replacement value on that old piece of trash, but I was wrong.”
Ronan didn’t like that his brother knew that about Natalie. “She told you?”
“Five dozen times,” Mathias said. “Bro, you need to learn to listen when people talk. She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
Ronan stiffened, only to realize his brother was talking about the car destruction, not anything else.
“She was in the house when it happened.”
“Good thing. She wouldn’t have survived that.” Mathias slapped him on the shoulder. “Good to have you back.”
“Thanks.”
Mathias and Nick retreated to their areas of the studio. Nick reviewed his email before heading out back, where he was working on a huge wood piece. Once he’d done the rough cuts with a chain saw, the twelve-foot-high block would be moved into the studio for his detail work.
Mathias spent his days creating glass dishes, light pendants and bowls in various patterns. Every now and then he created something that would be considered “art” but mostly he preferred what he called his utilitarian collection.
For years Ronan worried that Mathias had given in to their father’s judgment and was selling himself short by making everyday objects. Over the past few months Ronan had come to see that Mathias enjoyed what he did. For him, the act of creating was its own reward and having his pieces be on someone’s table mattered to him.
Nothing their father would approve of, but maybe that was part of the joy of it.
Ronan’s two interns arrived. They went to the local community college and worked for him a few hours a week. The morning went by quickly as they created piece after piece, building the parts of his installation.
A little before noon, the interns left and Ronan took a break. He drank some water, logged on to his email and checked on the new pieces, all in an effort to avoid what he really wanted to do. When he’d run out of distractions, he made his way across the parking lot to the gallery and in the back door, heading to Natalie’s office.
She sat behind her desk, her slightly frowning gaze locked on her computer. Gone were the tight curls. Instead her straight hair had been pulled back into a braid. She wore a tailored jacket over a green blouse and she was wearing makeup.
This was work Natalie—he liked this side of her but preferred laughing, playful, relaxed-at-his-house Natalie better.
The need to go to her nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to pull her to her feet, drop her glasses on the desk and kiss her senseless. Maybe unfasten her braid and a few other things. Need burned hot and bright, blinding him to the reality of where they were and the fact that they hadn’t spoken since—
“Wocka!” Natalie jumped in her chair and pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared me. When did you get so stealthy?”
“Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Color stained her cheeks. “I’m fine. The road crew guys were supernice and delivered me right to my door. I had my purse, which meant I had my keys. All is well.” She gave him a cheerful smile. “It’s really good I don’t have a cat. He would have been starving. Although I guess I would have called a neighbor or one of my friends to feed him, so he would have been fine. But I didn’t.” She cleared her throat. “What with not having a cat and all.”
