“Perfect. Then, when all the furniture arrives on Wednesday, we can have the delivery crew place it exactly where it goes. That’s one of my favorite parts.” Rowan clapped her hands once in excitement.
“I know! I can’t wait. It will be heaven to finally have a desk and chair that don't fold up. Oh, I almost forgot. I hired a barista for the café. Laura’s a college student, but her classes are online or at night. I told her during her downtime upstairs that she was welcome to study. She worked at Starbucks for three years.”
“Sounds like a perfect arrangement for both of you, Angela.” Rowan was about to ask Angela if she’d gone over her assistant’s duties yet when the bell on the back door chimed. Hugh O’Faolain made an entrance. Today, he wore khaki jeans that looked like a high-end version of work pants, a white button-up with the sleeves rolled—she got stuck on how good his muscular forearms looked for a moment—and brown leather tennis shoes. The man always looked dangerously delicious.
“Oh, hey,” she said, standing to greet him. “Good morning.” Rowan was flustered. She hadn’t considered introductions when she told him to come to the store.
Angela stood as well, looking at Rowan and smiling before walking to Hugh. “I’ve been dying to meet you. I’m Angela Carvey. You must be Rowan’s William.”
Oh shit.Angela hadn’t noticed that Hugh had turned to stone.
“I won’t get after you for sending Rowan back to work so often looking well-kissed and starry-eyed,” she laughed sweetly, “because she’s the most talented designer I've ever worked with. I already told my husband I want her to completely redecorate our condo in Florida. Also, I was young once,” she laughed.
Thank you, baby Jesus, Angela’s phone started to ring. “Oh, it’s Julie. I’ve got to take this! My new assistant…I’m so nervous,” she admitted absently, already walking away from theburning building exploding behind her. “So glad we got to meet, Will.”Christ, have mercy.
Rowan grabbed her purse and silently led the way out of the store’s back entrance. She would rather take her chances swimming off the coast of New Zealand in Great White infested waters than attempt placating Hugh at that moment—and honestly, Rowan had not one damn thing to feel bad about. Hugh threw her away, and she dated. End of story—or it would have been if her phone hadn’t started ringing as they stepped outside.
“Oh no,” Rowan whispered under her breath. “I need to take this call. I’ll only be a minute if you want to wait under the pergola.” She turned and took several steps in the opposite direction. Answering the call, Rowan attempted a lighthearted, “Hey, Will. Did you find anything helpful in your meetings yesterday?” Keep it about work, not personal.Please.
“Nothing yet. Dad and I are getting ready to grab some lunch, and I wanted to call you while I had a minute. I miss you, Rowan. Please tell me you’ll come to stay with me this weekend. If you can’t, I’ll try to come to you, even if it’s only for a day. I need to have my arms wrapped around you again.”
No, no, no, no, no, no. Rowan had every intention of letting Will know her change of heart today but not while Hugh was around. “This weekend,” she repeated as quietly as possible, taking a peek over her shoulder to make sure Hugh was out of earshot. He was standing directly behind her.
If Doomsday were a man...and named Hugh...
Turning completely to stare at the eavesdropping ass, Rowan began to make her excuses to Will, “Hey Will, right now isn’t a great time. Can I call?—”
Hugh recognizedhe was out of control. He didn’t care. The man who’d so recently had his hands on Rowan, his Rowan, wanted her to spend the weekend with him. Not a snowball’s chance in fucking hell was that happening.
His jealous rage in the driver’s seat, Hugh grabbed Rowan’s phone from her hand, ignoring her outraged gasp. “William Stanton. Hugh O’Faolain.” Silence greeted him before Stanton recovered his composure.
“Hugh. It’s been a while. Is everything okay with Rowan?”
“Yes.” Fuck him for asking.
“Okay,” William paused, clearly confused. Hugh didn’t care. “Please put Rowan back on the phone so she can tell me herself that everything is okay.”
Hugh was mildly impressed with Stanton’s resolve. Rowan was yanking on his arm, attempting to get to her phone. Not happening. Rowan never needed to talk to William again.
This was not smart. Hugh obviously knew he was screwing up.He’d just gotten her to consider giving him another chance. He wouldn’t back down now, though. Like he’d done twenty-five years ago. Helen liked to flirt with other men to embarrass Hugh. She’d flirted with William at the Club one evening, and he’d flirted back.
That night, Hugh had wanted to punch the man over a woman that he despised. He wanted to destroy the man now.
“I’m saving you from the prolonged misconception that you and Rowan will ever be seeing each other again. She’s mine. She’s been mine for a year. I suggest you lose her number.”
“She sure didn’t taste like she was yours, O’Faolain. I think you might be mistaken. Give the phone back to Rowan. I’d hear it from her.”
Red-hot, blinding rage. He’d only felt rage like that a few times in his life, and they were all connected to Helen’s treatment of his sons.
“Let me assure you, when I made her come, the day after you left town, it was my name she was screaming. Not yours. Final warning, Stanton. Don’t come after me or mine. The consequences might be more than you’re willing to pay.”
Hugh hung up with such force he was surprised the phone didn’t buckle, collapsing from the strain. He found Rowan leaning against the boutique’s brick exterior. The hurt on her face was a bucket of ice water over his head, flushing the anger from his body so fast it left him shaky. He took several steps toward her but stopped when she shook her head.
“Give me my phone and leave.”
A gunshot through the heart would have had less impact. Hugh felt crushing alarm. His brain had evidently come back online. He didn’t want to know the consequences of what he’d just done.
“Row—”
