“Oh, yeah,” Bran said like he knew Rowan was coming over, which he probably fucking did. “Tell Row hi. Okay. I’m on the couch and Daniel’s on my chest, but he’s squirming like he’s cold and about ready to scream. Scream more that is. Maybe just a light blanket? Patty’s blanket?” Hugh and Rowan grinned at each other then. Patty’s blanket referred to Patrick’s babyshower gift. He’d crocheted Bran and Raven’s child a baby blanket and Raven put their son to bed every night with it.
“No. He gets his Patty when he stays asleep in his own bed like a big boy.”
“Now what?” Bran sounded stressed. Daniel’s fussing was becoming louder.
“Mom said to ignore you. She told me you’d eventually get tired of being ignored, which you did. She said the cold air would make you snuggle into my chest, which it did.”
Bran spoke even quieter. “He’s snuggling. Oh God, Dad, his eyes are getting heavy,” Bran’s voice was so low Hugh and Rowan could barely hear it. Hugh had turned the phone on speaker so Rowan could follow along.
“Ignore it all. No eye contact. Remember!” Hugh whispered back.
“If he goes out, let him sleep until six, then wake him up and do his normal routine, but Mom told me to give you two naps, not more than an hour to an hour and a half twice a day. No extra-long naps. In a day or two Daniel’s clock should be adjusted.”
“He’s completely limp on my chest and sleeping.”
“Try to sleep, too, Son. Call me tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
Hugh had to blink his eyes rapidly to stop any moisture from escaping. “Love you too.”
14
Rowan was in love. Okay, she’d already been in love but hearing Hugh talk his son through a parenting crisis…heart emojis were probably shooting from her eyes.Calm down, Row. No jumping and leaping into anything yet.
Hugh was barefoot. As if he needed to be any hotter. Good Lord, the man was a walking fantasy. And those joggers—hello, frontal outline. Rowan took another sip of her Slane hoping to cover any drool leaking out.
Hugh set his phone on the bar after he disconnected with Bran. Now that the call was over, he seemed unsure. Nervous. Did she unnerve the great Hugh O’Faolain? Rowan sat on a barstool. Hugh leaned two feet away. They said nothing, only watching one another. She wasn’t sure what she thought might happen tonight, but silence hadn’t been one of them.
“Your mom and I had lunch with Diana today,” Rowan said, breaking the tension.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Conversation—0.
“Did she let you know all the ways you are losing at life?” Hugh asked, a small grin tilting his lips.
Rowan snorted at that. “Of course. Three main things for sure. Let me see,” Rowan paused to take a sip of her whiskey. “I should have discussed the importance with my client that she needed to have a soft opening for ‘certain people.’ One can assume she meant ‘affluent people’ who weren’t interested in rubbing elbows with, gasp, commoners.”
“I’m unsurprised. What else are you doing wrong?” Hugh asked, moving one step closer.
Lord, Hugh was intense. His presence was nothing short of lightning, causing the small hairs on her arms to stand erect. “The second…I should focus on my painting. I’m apparently wasting my time in design.”
He moved just that bit closer. He was still leaning against the bar, but now his leg wassovery close to her own. “You’ve never wasted your time in design. You and your sisters are extremely talented. However,” Hugh began, pausing to take a sip of his whisky, “she is right that you should focus more on your painting. Mom showed me what you painted for her, and, damn Row, your talent is breath-stealing. It stole mine,” he admitted.
Hugh calling her by her nickname was…she didn’t know, but she wanted to hear it pass his lips as often as possible, and at the same time, she was aware that they were skirting all the big issues.
Why did you push me away?
Did you like kissing my ass?
Did you like the picture of me naked in the shower?
Why are you touching me now?
Did you see the pictures of Will and me?
What changed...?
