Rowan grinned as she backed up, turned, and started walking toward the boutique entrance.
When the door closed behind her, Rowan realized she hadn’t thought of Hugh once while Will had kissed her.
She was thinking of him now, though. Damn.
10
Hugh had been pacing his mother’s home for what felt like hours. His mood became darker at every turn. He’d studied the armoire. Rowan had created a masterpiece. Mom said she planned on leaving it open so that every time she glanced its way, she would find a memory to smile about. His mother would enjoy showing it off to company too.
Mom left for Diana’s an hour ago, claiming the dark cloud hanging over his head was giving her a headache. Recalling their conversation before she’d left had Hugh clenching his fists.
“Who is she dating?”
“I know you’re angry, but you caused this mess, and though I wish I could help you dig your way out of it. Raven and River believe it’s best to let you two figure it out between you. That’s why they didn’t tell you Rowan was in Oklahoma and why they asked me not to give Rowan a head’s up that you’re lying in wait to pounce on her the moment she walks through that door.” Mom thrust her finger toward the front door.
Ignoring how infuriating his family was currently being, he focused on the most pressing matter. “Who is he?” She ignored him and instead started sorting her embroidery floss.
“Do you even know who this man is? She was shot a few months ago by a psychopath. Maybe you’ve forgotten,” he seethed, wanting to roar and shout and throw things. He wanted to run out that front door and track down Rowan himself.
“I know who he is and his family.”
Somehow, that made him more furious. Who the fuck did the O’Faolains know that had men Rowan’s age that weren’t complete jackass layabouts?
“We’ve been over this. You don’t have the right to be angry. You’ve admitted to turning her away. You’ve also admitted to hurting her feelings when you did it. What were you hoping would happen? That she’d stay single forever.”
“Yes!” Hugh did shout then. He stared out the window for a moment, amazed at his selfish admission. He would like to retract his answer and say “No!” instead, but he wouldn’t lie to his mother even though it was quite apparent that he’d been lying to himself for months.
She continued to sort floss while he moved through the rooms like an angry, caged beast until she’d stood in a huff and left.
The one room he hadn’t entered was the guest room Rowan currently occupied. He’d stood outside the door several times already, never giving himself permission to invade her privacy. The sixth time of telling himself not to do it didn’t work. He twisted the knob and walked into her bedroom.
His first thought, it smelled like her. He’d heard her tell Josephine O’Connor once that she wore perfume made from nude roses. Hugh had never thought that a rose’s scent changed depending on the color.
He loved smelling her. Rowan had only been staying here a few weeks, but the room felt like her.
There were pretty dresses hanging on a screen in one corner. A makeup table with all her feminine things: brushes, barrettes,hair ties, a pale-yellow ceramic dish with rings and earrings, necklaces and bracelets. He had seen all of them adorn her body at one time or another.
The walk-in closet was neat and tidy. Rowan was an extremely organized woman. All three Byrne sisters excelled in design and knew just the right spot for the smallest of items. The O Building in Dublin reflected their expertise. Each of the flats was stamped with the girls’ touch. Bran’s flat screamed Raven. Patrick’s flat was all River. And because Hugh was not a complete ignoramus, his flat had clearly been designed by Rowan. Each time he walked through the door of his apartment, it felt like sunshine warmed him from the inside out.
He’d dreamed of he and Rowan sharing the space a million times.
He continued to walk around the bedroom, stopping next to the perfectly made bed. The mounds of white linen begged a person to sink into its pillow softness. Her nightstand caught his attention then and beckoned. He told himself not to open the drawer. That was an invasion of privacy he definitely balked at. With seemingly no willpower, Hugh watched as his hand reached for the glass knob.
“Don’tyou dare open that fucking drawer, Hugh O’Faolain!” Rowan had just gotten home and wanted to change out of her work clothes into something more arts and crafts comfy. She almost screamed when she saw a man standing in her bedroom. He was facing away, looking toward her bed.
Hugh, oh Lord, it was Hugh. Had she not been so startled, she would have known him immediately. She knew every line and curve of his big body. Rowan instantly felt hot and shaky. Not nearly as impervious to him as she’d hoped she’d be after their separation.
Not impervious at all.
When Rowan saw him about to open the drawer in her nightstand, the horror of what he’d find inside killed her initial elation. Hugh jerked around, startled and probably embarrassed at being caught. She tried to control her features so that the man who tossed her away wouldn’t know how his mere presence affected her.
His hair was still shaved tight to his scalp. He taken to the style a couple of months ago. Hugh had gorgeous hair. Thick with a slight wave, all shades of coffee and cocoa. The shaved look suited him just as well, making his dark eyes shine brighter and his cheekbones sharper. He still had his beard and mustache, thank God, he hadn’t shaved them off. It was thick and wavy, brown shot with silver.
He'd always reminded Rowan of the actor Travis Fimmel, only Hugh was bigger, darker, and sexier—in her eyes anyway. One hundred percent beautiful man. “Why are you here?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, Hugh’s tried-and-true defensive maneuver. It wouldn’t save him from her questions. “Well?” she asked when he remained silent. Rowan would also like to ask her sisters and Matilda why they didn’t tell her of Hugh’s arrival.
“Why am I in Oklahoma? Why am I in my mother’s home? Or why am I in your bedroom?”
