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In response, she turned around and stuck out her tongue at him. It probably wasn't the most mature response, but it felt good to be a little silly. Especially now. She felt like crap about the fact that all of her drama was making things so damned heavy between them all the time. She needed to focus more on enjoying the moment. The moments that she spent with Ronan were more enjoyable than most, it turned out.
By the time they made it to the frozen food aisle, any previous tension between them was gone. It was hard to be annoyed with someone who so bluntly laid his feelings out there. In all of her life, she was certain that nobody had ever just wanted for her to have whatever she wanted.
Ronan did, though. Even despite his concerns about whether she would ultimately choose a life with him. There had been no qualifications in his statement.
There wouldn't be, though. She was beginning to see that. He was that sort of person. Kind. Decent. Honorable to a fault. Damn near perfect.
“Jesus,” she screeched, jerking away from the freezing sensation on the back of her neck. She quickly turned and saw Ronan standing with a pint of ice cream in his hand.
“You were lost in space, Moira. Ice cream is an important decision. I can't make it alone. Vanilla?” he asked.
“Chocolate.”
“Cookies and cream?”
“Chocolate.”
He made a face and asked, “Mint chocolate chip?”
“I hate to be repetitive...”
Ronan laughed, then tossed the container of vanilla in the cart and pulled another container of chocolate from the cooler. “You hemmed and hawed over a can of soup for five minutes, but won't even bend on ice cream, huh?”
“Non-negotiable.”
He pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Stubborn woman.”
“Stubbornly opposed to inferior ice cream flavors,” she corrected with a smirk.
On the way to the checkout counter, her cell phone rang. It struck her as odd because she'd just gotten it activated again. It was a brand new number that no one but Ronan had. “You butt dialing me?” she asked him.
“Left my phone in the truck, so I hope not,” he said.
Digging, she fished her phone out of her bag and then froze. “My father. How the hell did he even get the number? I've only had it for an hour!”
Right before they'd gone to the grocery store, they'd stopped and gotten her phone activated under her own name. Her next step was a bank account not co-signed with her father. It had been convenient for her when she'd been in school, but under the circumstances, there was no way she wanted him to have access to her money. Nor would she be taking another dime from him.
She muted the phone and waited for it to go to voicemail. No such luck. Since his initial call a few minutes ago, her phone had been ringing nonstop. Moira hoped he'd take the hint and leave a message, but no luck with that so far.
“Jesus. Is he still calling?” Ronan asked as they loaded up the truck.
“Yeah. This is something like his twentieth call. Should I just answer, do you think?”
“Do you want to talk to him?”
“Not particularly. He's kind of on my shit list.”
“Mine, too,” Ronan agreed. “If you don't want to talk to him, you don't have to. Block his number.”
“You don't think that's a bit harsh?”
“What you want to do is entirely up to you. I'd like to remind you that you showed up in my bar because he tried to marry you off to some old man with a spray tan, then he hit you and kicked you out when you told him no. Do I think blocking his number is harsh? Hell no. That's the least of what I'd do.”
“Excellent point. Lemme figure out how to block him.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ronan reveled in the feeling of his paws against the earth. He let loose a howl as he tore through the otherwise quiet night. He could sense more than actually see the blur of smaller creatures scattering when he came into sight. It had always made him wonder. Did they run because he they sensed a predator in wolf form, or because they sensed the fact he was partially human?
