He was saying nothing.
She’d have to ask to get her answer. Her chest tightened. His response could break her heart. That truth had her pause. She parted her lips but couldn’t force the words out. She had to act normal, like a grown-up who could handle an adult end-of-the-evening goodnight. “Guessing you need to handle him.” She reached for the lock and unclicked it, then the door handle. She got out slowly enough for Ronan to call her back.
He didn’t.
Her heart cracked an inch. Calista spun back to the cab. She couldn’t ask the questions she wanted to ask, but … “Your guest room…”
“Yours while you need it.”
Puck back on her side of the ice.
* * *
Calista went back to Ronan’s that night but barely saw him over the next two days. They co-existed like two friendly roommates, and she didn’t know how to change their relationship, or if it was even fair to him to try, because on a business level, she knew he was right. On a romance level, his choice of distance was cracking her heart.
Thursday, in class, Vivien held up Dahlia’s email about the dancers’ costume contest at the team’s favorite local bar. “Dahlia’s event is tonight. We going?”
Calista couldn’t help her nod, and later that night she found herself in the back corner booth, alone. Vivien was on the dancefloor in a short llama dress. The puffed fur did resemble snow, but other than that, there was no connection to the Snowers. Other customers wore costumes that ranged from literal hockey sticks to suggestive barely there bits of fabric. Calista wore her usual, jeans and a jersey. She was here for support not to compete.
The bar noise, loud conversations, and pop rock buzzed outside her bubble. Yep, this was her, on a Thursday night hanging at a bar. And people thought she wasn’t social, hah. She wasn’t even bored. Calista pinched the screen on her tablet and widened the image on an MIT article. Interesting, the curvature of the design was unique. After she finished the article, she sent off emails to the crew she had working on the stadium shower situation. She was starting with the visiting team’s locker room first to make sure she got it right before doing the Snowers side. She’d love to hand off the day-to-day project management, but she also wanted the locker room to be exactly as she envisioned. The Snowers deserved nothing but perfection.
Her friends came and went, as did various players who stopped to say “Hi.” She greeted each without fail and returned to her reading and emails.
The only time her attention jolted was when Ronan joined her, sliding into her booth, his masculine presence unignorable.
Calista kept her breath slow and even, liking the warm and solidness of him. She gave him a quick look from under her eyelashes.
His blue shirt set off his eyes. His attention was on the room, his expression convivial. He had a mostly full beer bottle in one hand, and his jean-clad legs sprawled under the table. A faint hint of his cologne was refreshing in a room that smelled mostly of freshly poured beer, and under his cologne was a hint of his clean shower wash. Her body perked up, and images of their shower threatened to take over.
But Ronan wasn’t here for her, he’d made his attentions clear by his absences. The reason for his sitting beside her, now? Well, she’d take that as a friendly gesture. A beautiful intention. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with this handsome, talented, amazing man? Her mind calmed and warmed. Taking a deep breath, she put the tablet face up on the table to reach for her glass. The ice clanked against the side. She hadn’t realized she’d drained her drink. Whatever.
Ronan took a sip of his beer.
This was companionship, nice. Her gaze went back to the MIT website. She read through the future speculation section and swiped the page. The fascinating info was only half holding her attention now. Friends did not distract friends from their scholarly pursuits. She didn’t wish him away though.
The weight of Ronan’s free hand landed on her thigh, warm and heavy. Her nerve endings jumped in a rush. Yes, please. The position of his fingers was fine, friendly even. Calista kept reading. The reference list held a few surprises. She clicked the link on an accompanying article.
Ronan flexed his fingers back and forth, moved them an inch higher, and then another inch.
The words blurred, Calista’s breath grew heavier, and she lifted her head.
“Your glass is empty.” Ronan’s blue gaze met hers. “May I buy you a drink?”
Calista nodded. “A malty one, please.” She mentally shuffled through the options she’d read on the menu earlier. “A White Snowers.” Cream, vodka, and coffee liquor made up the concoction.
Ronan placed the order on his phone.
Calista, rather than stare at him as if he was more fascinating than a scientific discovery, focused back on her tablet. This article was on a compound MIT developed using a novel polymerization process, two-dimensional polymer sheets. Fascinating. Though she really wanted to read this, she needed to ensure the tile guy was set on the install date. Waiting until summer would be a better time to renovate the stadium, but she wanted to do the improvement while she had the opportunity.
The waiter dropped off the drink and refilled her water, then he left the two of them alone.
Calista took a sip of the creamy sweet liquor while reading. This was lovely, chilling here with Ronan, getting a project refined, being social, but on her own terms.
Ronan edged his hand to the top of her thigh, cupped his fingers, and pressed on the inner seam of her jeans. His pinkie could go no further without bumping into intimate proximity with her…
His fingers shifted higher.