She doesn’t respond. The air swirls and swells between us until she finally breaks the silence. “What do you want?” she asks.
I look down at my menu. “How’s the steak sandwich?”
She rolls her eyes again and my heart does a backflip. Fuck me, she’s perfect.
“With me,” she enunciates.
I bite the inside of my lip. A glint of recognition flashes in her beautiful eyes. I can see her fighting an internal war. I don’t wait for the dust to settle before I reach across the table with an open hand. “I’m Ronan, by the way.”
She leaves me hanging. “You don’t look Japanese,” she answers, her venom slowly turning into a more playful sass.
I’m not thrown by the unexpected response. I chuckle, keeping my hand extended. I’ve had to deal with this kind of misunderstanding before, especially ever since that movie came out. I know exactly what she’s getting at. “You’re thinking of ‘Ronin’—like from that Keanu Reeves movie, ‘47 Ronin’, right? Ronan is Irish.”
“... You’re Irish?” she asks, with a hint of innocent curiosity in her voice.
I nod, pointing to my dark auburn locks and hoping that the news of my ancestry might ease her concerns about me a little. Even the most ignorant civilians around here know that the Irish mafia has been extinct in this town for decades now, long run out of town by the Italians, the Russians and the Chinese.
“What are you?” I ask.
“American,” she answers, flat-toned.
I can’t help but smile. “And your ancestors?”
Nia looks down
to the floor and shrugs.
I sigh and sit back in my booth, giving up on the attempted introduction. When our gazes meet again, though, it’s Nia who reaches her hand out to me.
“I’m Nia,” she offers.
I take her hand and shake it as gently as I can manage, a far cry from the force I’d used against her last night. Her long elegant fingers are soft and creamy, her palm is as warm as a summer sun. I don’t let her go so quickly, but when the time comes, I let my fingers brush down hers just so that I can experience her touch for a few more moments.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I say, after our little handshake. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest. I try my hardest not to show that I feel almost out of breath. “... and about the night before that, too.”
A soft smile comes over Nia’s beautifully full lips. “... Hey, at least it was kind of exciting,” she shrugs.
“Well, if there’s one thing I can offer you,” I smile back. “It’s excitement.”
10
Nia
He slides my phone across the table towards me.
I hesitate in taking it. Despite the deep connection I just felt spark between us, I’ve been burned so many times before that a part of me thinks that Ronan might just be fucking with me.
Slowly, though, I reach out and take my phone; it’s in no worse shape than it was when I parted ways with it.
“Thanks,” I whisper, shoving the phone into my apron. “Are you actually hungry?”
“Am I ever,” Ronan smiles, without taking his eyes off of me. His full lips stretch across his handsome face and I swear I can see some dimples under his scruff. My heart kicks inside my chest; there’s a cocoon in my belly getting ready to sprout wings.
“What’ll it be, then?” I ask, getting ready to scribble down his order on my notepad. The world feels strange, like I’m half in a dream. Out in the daylight, Ronan doesn’t seem like the same menace who’s shattered the glass walls of my life for the past two nights. In the dark, he looked almost like a nightmare, but now, in the sunlight, I’d be damned if he doesn’t smile like an angel.
Still, there’s a splash of darkness and danger to him that not even his dimples can hide.
Maybe he’s more like a fallen angel...