by Mandy Magro
Ronny shrugged casually. ‘The pantry. May and Alice thought of everything but the kitchen sink when they went shopping.’ He leant against the bench opposite Ivy and took a swig from his drink.
Ivy gazed at where his singlet pulled tight across his chest and swallowed hard. What she’d give to be able to trace her lips all over his tanned skin. There was a smudge of dirt on his left cheek and she yearned to reach out and wipe it away. ‘Hmm, a man who can cook, fix things, build things and sing … very impressive.’
Ronny chuckled. ‘Now, I wouldn’t go that far, but thanks.’
Ivy snapped open her can and took a sip, needing to do something, anything, but stare at his delectable body. It was making her ache in places she didn’t want to. ‘Seriously, your voice is beyond amazing. It gets inside of you and warms you from the inside out. Do you ever perform at gigs?’
Ronny smiled shyly as he shook his head. ‘Nah, I kinda like to sing when nobody’s around. I get too nervous when people are watching and I tend to forget the words.’
‘Well, if you don’t like an audience, why did you keep singing when you knew I was watching you from the window?’
‘Not sure really, other than that I feel comfortable around you, and you were at the window, not really right up in front of me, like people would be if I was on stage. I don’t mind singing around a campfire with a few mates, I just don’t reckon I’m good enough to make people sit and listen to me at a pub, that’s all.’
‘Are you serious? Your voice sounds a lot like Waylon Jennings. And he was a superstar. You’re taking away people’s God-given right to listen to your voice by not sharing it.’ Ivy grinned playfully. ‘And that’s very selfish of you.’
‘Now you’re just being nice.’
‘No, I’m not. Like a wise man once said to me, I’m just being honest.’ She winked at him. ‘But seriously, I know a good voice when I hear one, and you, my friend, have something very special.’ She gazed at him, admiring how humble he was as he remained silent. ‘I’ve had a lot to do with performing in the past, and I know a good thing when I see one.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I know so. You shouldn’t waste your talent, Ronny, you need to get out there and show it off.’ She threw her hands up in the air, her eyes wide. ‘You might be the next big thing. You never know until you give it a go, as they say.’
Touché. Why was it so damn easy to give great advice to somebody else, when she knew this was exactly what she should be telling herself, too?
‘I dunno, Ivy. I’ve sometimes daydreamed about performing in front of a crowd, but honestly, I wouldn’t have a clue about where to start. I’ve never thought I was good enough to do it really, but you’re almost giving me the courage to maybe give it a go sometime.’ Ronny’s thoughtful expression broke into a smile. ‘Seeing as you’re so clued up, I reckon you could teach me a few things, you know, about performing and maybe how to project my voice to a room full of people. And maybe, if I decided to do a gig, you might like to come and do it with me?’
Now it was Ivy’s turn to doubt her abilities. Shit, she should have kept her mouth shut. She laughed nervously, all her irrational fears bubbling to the surface like a pot about to boil over. ‘I don’t think I’d be the best person to teach you anything about it, Ronny. I could maybe hook you up with someone who would be, though, if that would help.’
‘Oh, thanks but no thanks, I’d only do it if you helped me, and sang with me.’ He smiled at her, eyes beseeching. ‘Like I said, I feel comfortable with you, and it’s a rarity for me to feel comfortable with anyone.’
Ivy’s hands were trembling, as were her lips and legs, the thought of being up in front of a crowd scaring the crap out of her. The last time she’d done that was the night everything had turned to shit. Instinctively she touched the place on her stomach where one of her scars now was.
‘Come on, Ivy. It might be a bit of fun. And it’ll give you something to do now that you have to rest up a fair bit with your ankle the way it is.’ For the briefest of moments, she swore she could see pity in his eyes.
She dropped her hand and tucked it behind her. She had to open up to him, she didn’t want him thinking she was fobbing him off after everything he was doing for her, and all he’d already done for her, consciously and unconsciously. ‘I wish I could say yes, Ronny, but something happened to me a long while ago, something really bad, and it took away my ability to play my guitar and sing.’ She gave a resigned sigh. ‘I’m terrified of performing again, and am scared of having a panic attack up on stage in front of everyone, so I’d probably be more of a hindrance than a help, at the moment.’ Tears were stinging her eyes and as much as she tried to fight them off, heavy drops rolled down her cheeks.
In three quick strides, Ronny stood before her. He took hold of her hands and gently squeezed them, his eyes gazing into hers with so much concern it touched her heart. How could this man care so much for her in such a short time? But then again, how could she feel so deeply for him? There had to be something otherworldly at work here, the connection between them was way too strong for it to be imagined.
‘My God, you’re shaking like a leaf.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘Please don’t feel pressured. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel like this.’
Ivy allowed him to comfort her as she melted into his arms. ‘It’s not your fault. I’ve just got a lot of stuff to work through before I can play again. That’s all.’
He pulled back a little so he could look into her eyes, his arms still wrapped protectively around her. ‘If there is any way I can help you through it, I will. I know just how much it means to be able to follow your passion.’
Ivy wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Ronny; I think I’ll take you up on that offer at some point. It’ll be nice to have someone I trust to ease me back into playing and singing.’ She sniffled. ‘Amy Mayberry’s one lucky woman to have a man like you to love her.’
Ronny’s mouth dropped open in shock before giving way to a look of absolute amusement. He shook his head. ‘What are you on about? I’m not with Amy. What in the heck made you think I was?’
Ivy’s cheeks blushed a bright shade of red. ‘Oh, um, I just gathered from the night at the pub that you might have been an item, and then when I saw you with her at the bakery last week, I just assumed you were together.’
Ronny’s eyebrows scrunched together for a few seconds before his eyes widened and a smile spread across his face. ‘Oh, I get it now. You saw Amy sitting on my lap and you thought –’ he chuckled as he shook his head, ‘– there’s no way in hell I’d fall for a woman like Amy Mayberry. Don’t get me wrong, she seems like a nice enough person, but that’s as far as it goes.’ He dropped his hands from around Ivy’s waist, and took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers. His smile faded. ‘Do you really think I’d be the kind of man who would go out with a woman like her?’
Completely ashamed, Ivy looked at the floor. ‘I was hoping you weren’t. But I wasn’t sure after seeing how cosy you looked at the bakery.’
‘I think I’d be a little too deep for Amy’s liking. And I’m well aware I’d just be another notch on her bedhead, and I’ve got a lot more self-respect than that.’ Ronny placed his fingers underneath her chin and gently tipped her head towards him, capturing her eyes with his. ‘You’re the kind of woman I’d usually fall for, Ivy Tucker. Someone who is creative and kind and who knows what she wants out of this life. I need a lot more than what’s on the outside of a woman to turn me on. I need layers, and you have plenty of those.’
‘And therein lies the problem.’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘What’s that, Ivy? What problem?’
‘You said, usually, and the thing is …’ Ivy stopped and turned her head to gaze out the window, her breathing shallow.
‘What is it, Ivy?’
She turned back to face him. The look in his eyes was so touching she felt weak at the knees. ‘You’re exactly the kind o
f man I’ve been praying for, and here you are. But life is never that simple. There has to be a catch. I thought it was that you were with Amy, but now that’s not the case, surely it has to be something else. I can feel you holding back from me, Ronny, and I can’t understand why. Is there something you’re not telling me?’
The shocked expression on Ronny’s face told her everything she needed to know. Silence settled between them. He was hiding something from her and that realisation brought back all the unwanted emotions Malcolm’s betrayal had caused her. Was Ronny going to be another man who somehow broke her into tiny little pieces? Well, if he wasn’t going to be honest with her, she wasn’t going to give him the chance.
Before she had time to escape from the room, Ronny’s hands drifted back to her hips. They settled there and pulled her closer. She inhaled sharply as she once again touched his warm chest, chiselled to absolute perfection. The wild beating of his heart against her felt so damn good, and she hated it. She desperately wanted to pull away, but desperately wanted to stay in his arms too. His breathing quickened, as did hers. He leant in and, without a word, placed his lips against her neck then caressed it with delicate kisses so faint, they were like butterfly wings flickering against her skin. She moaned softly as she gave in to him. He slowly made his way towards her parted lips, their breath mingling. She could feel her mind and body in a tug of war. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, not when he was keeping something from her, but she couldn’t help herself. Her heart fluttered inside her chest and every inch of her craved to be at one with him.
And then his lips were upon hers. At first, he was soft and slow, giving her delicate butterfly kisses, teasing her, making her push her hands harder into his back so there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. Then his arms moved from her hips and encircled her as he picked her up and placed her on the kitchen bench. As his kiss intensified, she could feel his heat spread through her body. His tongue circled hers in the most suggestive of ways, driving her to the brink before he slowed back down again, slowly sucking on her bottom lip. She gasped, the longing inside her more powerful than she’d ever felt with any man before. She couldn’t let this continue. Her heart couldn’t take any more beating. Ronny needed to be open and honest with her, or whatever this was between them had to be put to rest. Forever.
‘Please stop,’ she whispered as she turned her face away from him. ‘You need to tell me what you’ve been hiding or you need to leave me alone.’
And just as abruptly as he had grabbed her, Ronny pulled away, eyes glistening. He took a few steps backwards. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you opening up to me.’ He began pacing in front of her, rubbing his face and running his hands over his head. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t give in to my feelings for you, no matter how hard you were to resist. And here I am, caving in.’ He stopped and stared at her, his eyes piercing hers. ‘I can’t do this either. It’s so wrong in so many ways.’
So wrong in so many ways … Ivy blinked back tears as anger filled her. What the hell was he getting at? Was she not good enough for him? The familiarity she’d been feeling for him stormed to the front of her mind – maybe that had something to do with it? ‘I know I know you from somewhere, Ronny. What aren’t you telling me?’ She almost spat the words, the heartbreak Malcolm had caused her through his deceitfulness now at the forefront of her mind. And here she’d been thinking Ronny was different. Fool!
‘There’s plenty I haven’t told you …’ Ronny’s voice was laced with sadness as he looked up at the ceiling as though begging a higher being to come to his aid. ‘And they are things that are best left unsaid.’
‘What do you mean? Why can’t you just be honest with me?’
‘Because I can’t be.’
‘What do you mean you can’t be? What are you talking about?’
Ronny met her worried gaze with equally anxious eyes. ‘There are some things I just can’t tell you. And for that reason, I need to leave you alone.’ He gathered his keys from the kitchen bench. ‘Come on, I’ll drop you back to the homestead. I think I might call it a day, and start fresh tomorrow, if that’s okay with you. My head’s not focused on the job at the moment and I don’t want to go fucking up anything more than I already just have.’
‘Don’t bother, I’ll find my own way back,’ was all Ivy could manage as she stared out the kitchen window.
Ronny didn’t budge.
With wild eyes, Ivy turned to him. ‘For fucks sake, just go.’
CHAPTER
17
The dawn sunlight streamed through the partially open curtains like a flamboyant guest, hitting the sun catcher in Ronny’s window and splashing colours around the bedroom. Ronny rubbed his eyes, begrudgingly climbed from his rumpled sheets and sat on the side of his bed, shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world was upon them. His doona was in a pile at his feet – he must have kicked it off during the night. Again. He groaned as he roughly rubbed his face. What he would give to have a good night’s sleep – it might at least help him get through the days of carrying around a heavy heart. Three weeks down, and hopefully, if things went to plan, there were less than two to go. He could do this; he simply had to because he didn’t have any other choice. Being a man of his word he was determined to get the job done as promised, because Ivy and her aunts deserved a happily ever after. He, on the other hand, had ruined any chance of that happening for himself – because he knew without a doubt now, after kissing her beautiful lips three weeks ago, that Ivy was his happily ever after. And that was never, ever, going to be. Over in the corner of the room Cindy Clawford stretched languorously in her cat bed. Then she strutted like a supermodel to his side for a scratch while meowing a good morning. He chuckled as he stroked her, her purring sounding like a mini generator. He was thankful for her companionship – it calmed him. ‘I don’t know how you felines do it, Cindy, but you’ve certainly won my heart without even trying.’ He glanced at the Hilton-worthy pet bed he’d bought her from the pet shop in town and shook his head. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would have gone shopping for a cat bed. ‘And it only took you three days of clawing at my bedroom door to get your way.’
Cindy gave him one last meow before sauntering out of the bedroom in search of the great outdoors – she would sit in the sun for a while until Ronny got her breakfast, unless it was raining, then she’d sit on the bay windowsill in the kitchen, watching the goings on outside until she spotted food being dished into her bowl.
‘In my next life I want to come back as a cat,’ Ronny mumbled as he yawned and stretched his arms high above his head, at the same time willing his exhausted body to life. He’d have been lucky to catch an hour’s sleep last night. And every night had been the same for the past few weeks, since he’d made the massive mistake of showing Ivy just how deeply he felt for her. Talk about a moment of weakness. The look in her eyes when he’d told her he couldn’t be honest with her and that they could never be together … he might as well have stabbed himself in the heart, it would have hurt less. He felt like the biggest arsehole alive, and there was nothing he could do to take it all back. And Ivy had barely spoken a word to him since, only stopping by the cottage to check out how he was progressing and to see if there was anything he needed her to do. And every time, of course, there was nothing. Ivy was off her crutches now and managing to hobble about, but he wasn’t going to ask her to do anything. She still needed rest, and plenty of it, if she was going to make a full recovery. Besides, he couldn’t have her around him too much, because after tasting her honey-sweet kiss, and experiencing the way her touch caressed him in the most mind-blowing of ways, he was more addicted to her than ever, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
It was all very businesslike between them now, exactly how he had wanted it from the start. If only he’d had the strength to curb his hunger for her, they wouldn’t be in this godawful mess. He knew he needed to do so
mething to try to mend the rift because he didn’t want Ivy hating him, and at the moment he felt as if she loathed him. And that killed him beyond words. But what was he meant to do? It wasn’t like they could ignore what had happened. And there was no way on earth he could reveal who he was now, even if he wanted to, because he’d gone way past the point of it being acceptable to keep the truth from her – and May and Alice for that matter. He groaned again as he threw himself backwards against the bed. What a fucking mess.
He needed to call his sister and get a woman’s perspective. Faith was always full of great advice, and Lord knew he needed some right now. She’d been away the past couple of weeks on a much-needed holiday to Koh Samui, and he hadn’t wanted to bother her while she was on vacation, other than the occasional email to say hi or to comment on her Facebook posts, but she flew back last night and he couldn’t wait any longer. Rolling over he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and dialled her number. It rang out. He left a message. She was probably still asleep.
Succumbing to the fact he needed to get up and start the day he stood and went to his drawers, grabbing jocks, a T-shirt and a pair of jeans – the letters Lottie and Ivy had written him while he was in jail dropping to the floor as he did so. He’d had them tucked beneath his dwindling pile of T-shirts for safekeeping – he obviously needed to do some washing. He picked them up as though they were made of glass, Ivy’s letter now terribly thin and tattered after the number of times he’d read it over the years. Pain shot through his heart as if speared. Both letters meant so very much to him. He really should put them away in the safe in the office with Lottie’s jewellery box, out of harm’s way and also out of sight of any prying eyes. There was a lot in each letter that would certainly let the cat out of the bag. Not that he had many visitors, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. He made a mental note then shoved them back underneath his shirts.
Grabbing his towel slung over the bedroom door he wandered down the hallway. A nice hot shower would help him feel a little more alive than he was feeling right now and it always helped clear his head. Having completed the kitchen revamp, he was going to make a start on the internal laundry today, and he needed a sharp mind to do the job right. He’d organised the plumber to come around after lunch and he had a fair bit to do before then.
