Kissing Lessons (Kissing Creek)

by Stefanie London

  “Thank you.” She looked at him for a moment longer, and Ronan had the sensation that he was standing at the edge of a cliff.

  That’s how she made him feel—wild, free, dangerous. He could almost feel the wind in his hair.

  Audrey curled her hands over the back of the chair in front of her, as if steadying herself. Or maybe it was as a barrier. They both knew it was wrong to be dancing around each other like this. But they kept drifting together, like magnetically attracted beings unable to resist the pull between them. Did she keep thinking about him the way he thought about her?

  Audrey’s lips parted. He wasn’t close enough to touch her—there were two rows of chairs between them. And every part of him ached with the distance. His body shouted at him to get closer, to touch. To kiss her. How easy it would be to close the door to the classroom and flick off the lights so they could pretend nobody was here. He could reach for her in the dark, sliding his hands over her delectable curves and—

  The door opened with a bang, and one of the cleaning staff walked in, a pair of earbuds in her ears and her head bobbing to the beat. She looked startled when she noticed there were still people in the room. “Sorry,” she said, plucking one of the buds from an ear. “I thought you were all done.”

  “That’s okay,” Ronan replied. “We’re finishing up.”

  Audrey let out a long, slow breath and then punctuated the sound with one of her dazzling smiles. “Thank you for the offer, professor. I’ll let you know if I can make it.”

  Professor. Not Ronan.

  That was a line in the sand if he ever saw it.

  “Thank you, Audrey.” He turned and headed back to the desk. By the time he’d scooped up his phone and stuffed his laptop into his leather satchel, she was gone.

  Just as Ronan was walking outside, his phone started buzzing, and Keira’s picture—one of her holding her chubby-cheeked son—flashed up on the screen. He frowned and swiped his thumb across the screen. It wasn’t like his sister to call late.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Ro.” His sister’s voice was tight, tearful. “I’m sorry to call late. I hope you’re not still in class.”

  “What happened? Tell me.”

  “It’s Gram. She had a fall.” Keira sucked in a shaky breath. “A neighbor found her and called an ambulance.”

  Ronan’s heart lurched. “Is she okay?”

  “She broke her arm and hit her head. I…I don’t know much more than that. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

  “Text me the address. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Ronan hung up the call and sprinted across campus, panic flooding his system. But freaking out wouldn’t help now. All he could do was be grateful that he’d taken the position at Harrison Beech and that he wasn’t sitting in another country, half a world away, feeling guilty as well as useless.

  God, he’d forgotten how bad the traffic was in Boston, even when it was past ten p.m. That’s what happened when there was a Red Sox game on at Fenway Park—the city turned to sludge.

  Ronan jogged from the hospital parking lot into the stark gray-and-white building, the sterile snap of antiseptic hitting his nostrils the second the glass doors slid open with a soft whoosh. A polite nurse directed him to the room where his grandmother was being kept. He spied her from the door, looking small and frail among the starched white bedsheets and pillows. She had her eyes closed, her thin lips open slightly. Even from here he could see the bruise blossoming on her forehead and one more under her eye.

  Keira wasn’t in the room. She must have gone to grab a cup of coffee or have a restroom break. Ronan moved forward quietly, hands shoved into his pockets.

  “Don’t be hovering at the door like a meek child,” Orna said, cracking one eye open. “If you’ve come to visit, then you need to come into the room.”

  Ronan bit back a smile. If Orna was bossing people around, then she couldn’t be feeling too bad. The day his grandmother was quiet and passive, that’s when he’d be worried.

  “Looks like you took a punch.” He walked over to the bed and sat where she patted the top of the sheets with her good hand. “You getting into bar fights again, old lady?”

  She laughed, and the sound was dry and croaky, so Ronan reached for a jug of water that was sitting on a moveable table and poured her a glass. She accepted it eagerly.

  “Maybe that’s what I should tell people,” she said. “I was defending my honor.”

  “Or maybe you’re actually Batman. I’d believe it.”

  She narrowed her cloudy gray eyes. “You shouldn’t believe in fairy tales, Ronan. That way lies the devil.”

  “Now I know you’re feeling okay, if you’re spouting that superstitious crap.” He rubbed a hand up and down her good arm. The other, which was wrapped in some lightweight kind of cast, was tucked against her body. “And Batman isn’t a fairy tale.”

  “But he turns into a bat, no? Isn’t that a fairy tale?”

  “He doesn’t actually…” Ronan shook his head. This was what his grandmother did whenever she didn’t want to talk about something—she diverted his attention. “Where’s Keira?”

  Orna wrinkled her nose. “Gone to get me a decent cup of coffee. Not this dishwater shit they serve here.”

  “Okay. So, what happened? You fell?”

  “No, I was dancing with a leprechaun, and he turned me too fast.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I fell.”

  Ronan shot her a look. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Why? So you can make the decision that I’m too old to live in my own home?” She glared at him.

  “That’s not what I’m trying to do.” He raked a hand through his hair. He loved his grandmother to bits—alongside Keira, she was the most important person in his life. But her stubborn Irish blood made her tough as nails and twice as sharp. “I promise.”

  “I was making tea and carrying it out to the sofa. I caught my foot on the cat and fell.”

  “You tripped over the cat?” It sounded like something out of a bad slapstick comedy.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Ronan Walsh. I’m still strong enough to clip your ear.” She looked down at her cast. “I bet this makes a good weapon, too.”

  He’d known ever since he was a kid that Orna’s bark was far worse than her bite, and her threats of “clipped ears” never amounted to anything more than a good telling off. Most of the time, he’d deserved it.

  “Dare I ask how the cat fared in all of this?”

  “She’s a tough old nut.” Orna smiled. “That’s why we work so well together. Mrs. Boyle from next door is going to look after her until I get home.”

  Thank God. The last thing that Ronan needed right now was for some grumpy old cat to be foisted on him.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said seriously. “You gave me a heart attack.”

  “Your sister gave you a heart attack. I told her not to call you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” It was a rare moment when he saw how vulnerable his grandmother was under her tough, life-worn exterior. None of them were too good with showing their emotions—all too proud and too self-protecting. But he could see it now: the fear. The concern. The dread. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about than me.”

  “Gram.” He squeezed her hand. “I love my job…but it’s just a job.”

  “No, it’s not just a job. You said so yourself when we had dinner. Your work is who you are, because what else do you have?”

  The comment struck him in his chest, like an arrow flying out of nowhere and piercing his skin. She was right. Work was the entirety of his life. Beyond it, he had no real relationships outside his family, no close connections, no hobbies. Any spare moment he had when he wasn’t teaching or working on his research was spent reading, which was really more work disguised as relaxation.

/>   The only time he’d done something different was when he was with Audrey. He felt like a different person with her—someone who had a fuller, more well-rounded life.

  “I have my family.” He flattened his lips. “That means whenever you need me, I’m here.”

  Ronan felt another presence in the room, like they were being watched. If it was Keira, she would have rushed in, and if it was a nurse, then they wouldn’t be waiting for a tender moment to be over, no matter how rare. A prickling sensation crawled down Ronan’s spine. Awareness, tension. He felt his muscles bunch, and then a familiar scent hit him—sandalwood and patchouli. It twisted in his gut. He didn’t even need to turn around to know who was standing there.

  “Mom.” He uttered the word almost as if it was a curse.

  If Merrin Walsh heard him, she didn’t respond. Ronan looked up, and, no matter how much he prepared himself to face her, seeing her was no less uncomfortable than being grabbed by the throat. She hadn’t changed much—a few more gray hairs, giving her mousy brown halo of frizz a distinct silvery sheen. But her blue-gray eyes—his eyes—were unchanged. She still wore the same shapeless artist smock in rumpled linen over flowing pants. She still wore necklaces layered around her neck and a single chunky resin bangle on one arm. She still had that aloof, gauzy air about her, like an impenetrable bubble of her own making, keeping the world out and her dreams in.

  And she still smelled the same.

  “Orna.” Merrin had always called her mother by her first name, as though wanting to distance herself from the label she did everything in her power not to embody. “Are you okay?”

  Ronan got up from the bed and took a step back, jamming his hands into his pockets. He watched the awkward interaction between his mother and grandmother—a stilted peck on the cheek, neither sure where to put their hands.

  His mother glanced furtively over to him. “Hi, Ro.”

  Ronan’s nostrils flared, and he gave a curt nod but found there was a boulder sitting on his chest that prevented him from speaking. So, it took multiple hospital visits to get his mother to show up. Good to know.

  Merrin toyed with a long, silver feather dangling from a chain around her neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. The traffic from Gloucester was…”

  Ronan walked out of the hospital room to give his mother and grandmother a moment alone. More importantly, he needed a moment alone. He hadn’t prepared himself for a reunion tonight, and there was so much—and yet so little—he wanted to say. Sighing, he sagged back against the hospital wall and spotted Keira returning with a cup of coffee in each hand, the colorful plastic lids a stark contrast to the relentless white of the hallway.

  “You called her?” he said as Keira came up to him, handing over one of the cups. She’d clearly gotten one for him and one for Orna and nothing for herself, because that was how his sister operated.

  “Mom?” Keira’s blue eyes met his, unwavering. Ready to be challenged. “Yeah, I called her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s family and she deserves to know.”

  Ronan sipped the drink, but it tasted like sawdust. “Is a DNA link all that’s required to be considered part of this family?”

  “Ro.” Keira frowned. “Come on.”

  “No, I’m serious. Could I walk away now and not bother to put any time in with you or Lukas or Gram or anyone, but you’d still keep me up to date even though I’d done nothing to earn it?”

  Maybe it was the worry festering in his brain about his grandmother getting old. But his resentment was hot and angry, and it was so close to the surface he was sure that if he turned his wrist over he would see it bubbling in his veins.

  “Can we not do this now?” Keira asked, her brows knitted together. “I was scared, okay? Mrs. Boyle called me, and then I called the hospital, and they said they couldn’t give me a status, and…I had to leave Lukas with a friend because Andy was finally having a night out with the guys and I didn’t want to take that from him.”

  Keira had to juggle so many things, and she’d always been the meat in the sandwich, as Orna used to say. Stuck between her strong-willed grandmother, flighty mother, and angry brother. Ronan had mellowed over the years, losing his fiery teenage streak…for the most part. But now he felt like he had all those years ago—frustrated and hurt that his mother felt like she could flit in and out of their lives as it suited her.

  “I’m not angry at you, Keke.” He used her childhood nickname so she would know they were okay. There could never be bad blood between them. “I…I don’t know why she thinks she can pick and choose when to be involved.”

  He glanced back into the room to see Merrin and Orna talking quietly. Merrin was sitting on the bed, but they weren’t touching.

  “She’s making more of an effort these days,” Keira said.

  “How?”

  “She’s called a few times and wanted me to put Lukas on the phone. She sent a card for his birthday, though the date wasn’t quite right.” Keira bit down on her lip and cradled Orna’s coffee between her hands. “She even mentioned coming to Boston for a weekend soon so she could see him.”

  That hurt. His texts and calls had gone unanswered since before he left for England, but Merrin was suddenly making an effort with Keira because she’d had a child? Ronan didn’t resent anything Lukas had. Far from it. That little boy was going to have more love than either he or Keira had ever had, and Ronan would be sure to contribute to it every chance he got.

  “I’m glad she’s making an effort for Lukas’s sake.”

  Keira nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not fooled into thinking she would have done it if there wasn’t a grandchild in the equation. But I want him to have the chance to get to know her.”

  “You’re not worried that she’ll come into his life and then leave?”

  “I expect she will.” She sighed. “But what other choice do I have? Should I let perfect be the enemy of good?”

  “I’m not sure she’s reached ‘good’ yet. She’s barely scraping into the adequate category.” Ronan took a long draw of his coffee, willing the caffeine to work its magic on his weary brain. “If that.”

  “Will you never forgive her?”

  Ronan wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that question, because his gut told him a resounding no. Forgiveness wasn’t something he gave out easily, but mainly that was because he never put himself in a position to be hurt in the first place—hence his work-driven, singular-focused life. He’d learned his lesson hard and fast: relationships lead to pain.

  People were selfish creatures because survival necessitated it.

  Do you think Audrey is selfish, with all she’s sacrificed for her family?

  An anomaly. Something that couldn’t be trusted, even if Audrey tempted him with her ray-of-light personality. But he wouldn’t be fooled—not into trusting Merrin’s return, nor into thinking that his stance on relationships might change. Ever.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zombie spiders exist.

  On Friday, Audrey wrapped up her shift at Game of Stones a few hours early and walked along campus. She’d worn her favorite jeans today—the ones that she’d had to patch multiple times but that made the most of her ample booty, and a pretty blouse in sage green that made her eyes pop.

  Was it a perfect day? Or did it only seem that way because the luxury of an afternoon doing something fun for herself was so out of the ordinary?

  The weather was postcard-ready, with blue skies and bright sunshine amplifying how green and lush the Harrison Beech campus was. She passed a group of students lounging on the grass under a huge elm tree. They were studying and talking, scrolling on their phones and laughing. They were so…carefree.

  At their age, Audrey had already been working two jobs and struggling to deal with her younger siblings, who needed a hell of a lot more care back then. Deanna had been at t
he start of tweendom. And Jane had been venturing down a worrying path of smoking and skipping class. She’d managed to keep them all in line. To make sure they knew they were loved and that life had more to offer them than a carbon copy of their father’s spiraling despair.

  Shaking off the troubling memories, Audrey jogged up the steps of the science building and pushed the door open. From memory, the faculty offices were the first hallway on the right. As she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Ronan.

  He was wearing the blazer with the elbow patches, and his hair was long around his ears. His beard looked a bit heavier than usual, not as clean-cut as she’d seen him before. Audrey gulped. For some reason, that extra roughness—the hint of imperfection—made him seem so much more touchable. Desirable.

  He was so…unabashedly masculine. Devastatingly attractive. And yet she knew inside he was a kind soul and had a good heart. In her mind, that was an irresistible combination. A rare combination.

  “Audrey.” His face lit up into a friendly smile as she approached, and his reaction set off butterflies in her stomach. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “Me, too.” Audrey nodded, trying to stifle the giddy grin that wanted to burst forth.

  It’s one thing to pretend to be a normal twenty-something woman for an afternoon. It’s quite another to revert to being a giddy teenager.

  “We’re over in the humanities building for this event.” He gestured for them to head back the way Audrey had come.

  Outside, it felt amazing to be in the sunshine, a handsome man by her side. She noticed the curious glances aimed in Ronan’s direction as they walked. That seemed to happen a lot. Audrey had caught several students mooning over him during the Brain-Changing Positivity class and felt a little prickle of possessiveness burrow under her skin.

  Which seemed stupid now—she was here at his invitation.

  “I thought of another trivia question for you,” he said, their footsteps falling in time.

  Audrey grinned. “You’re determined to trip me up, aren’t you?”