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“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Seventeen
FIONA
The door opens, and I spring off the easy chair, eager to show Ronan my healed feet and hand. I freeze as my eyes land on his blood-stained jeans.
“Um, maybe I’ll wait until you wash up.”
Ronan looks down in surprise, grimacing at the sight of his jeans.
“Aye, that might be best,leannán.” He turns to the bedroom, his eyes lingering on the prettily wrapped present on the kitchen island. He doesn’t mention it, moving off, and my heart sinks. Oh. That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.
Sinking back onto the cushiony seat, I draw my knees up again, my heart thudding. I still haven’t got everything straight in my head about Grant, and now Ronan doesn’t want to do Christmas things with me… could this day get any worse?
“Are ye okay,leannán?”
Jumping at the sudden noise, my head snaps up. Ronan is standing over me, holding my gift and another one. My heart takes off like a helicopter. Shit. He bought me a Christmas present. Holy. Shit.
Setting the presents on the long footstool, Ronan lifts me, settling me in his lap on the sofa. He plucks up my newly unbandaged hand, running his fingers over it as he examines it.
He sets down my hand, and I giggle as he reaches over, snagging the gifts and laying them in my lap. My fingers skate over the gorgeously wrapped silver present.
“Ye go first.” He nods to it, his hand resting on my red and green present.
My heart is in my mouth, and my fingers tremble as I carefully unwrap it. The paper drops away, and I freeze. It’s an envelope and a jewelry box. Using my finger to slit open the envelope, I pull out the paper – confident that there is no crushed pepper powder in this one.
“Plane tickets?” My eyes find his, and Ronan smirks at me.
“I’d like to show ye Belfast, where I grew up,leannán.”
“I don’t have a passport.”
Ronan’s grin only grows. “I thought that might be the case, lass. Which is why the tickets are open-ended.”
Keeping his gaze locked on my face, he plucks up the jewelry box, holding it up before my face. I swallow, slowly reaching out for it. Flipping it open, I sag in relief.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper, my fingers skating over the four-leaf-clover stud earrings. “They’re too much.”
I’m not kidding. The leaves of the clovers are emeralds, and the setting is gold. Ronan chuckles, taking them out one at a time, sliding them into my ears, fixing them there, pressing a kiss against each side of my neck below my earlobes.
“Nothing is too much for ye,leannán.”
My heart thuds. Ronan drops his eyes to my lap, eagerly picking up my gift. My cheeks bloom red.
“I didn’t spend as much as you,” I mutter, unable to look him in the eye. Ronan places two fingers under my chin, tipping my head until our eyes meet.
“Having ye here on Christmas morning is enough of a gift, lass. Everything else is a bonus.”
Now I’m blushing for a different reason. He tears the paper off my present, much less carefully than I did. As he uncovers the flat cap, Ronan’s eyes light up.
“Are ye trying to turn me into my pa, lass?” he chuckles. Laughing, I pluck it up, setting it on his head.
“I googled. It’s what Irishmen wear. Now everyone will know you’re Irish.”
“Sure, and I just have to open my mouth for that to happen,leannán.”
“Well, yeah. But this is more fun. You look hot.”
