Page 18 of At First Smile

CHAPTER NINE

Baggage

Pen

M y eyes flutter open, taking in the sunshine creeping into the room through the gap between the window’s edge and drapes.

Rowan’s woodsy scent lingers, but the bed is devoid of the muscular frame that held me tight all night.

I sit up, the warm duvet falling to my waist, grab my glasses from the bedstand, and scan the room.

“Where is he?”

The question is met only with the ceiling fan’s quiet hum and click of the air conditioning turning on.

My body still zings from Rowan’s demanding kisses, exploring hands, thrusting hips, and wicked promise. You don’t need to beg with me, luv.

I kick out of the blankets and scramble off the bed to check the bathroom. I press my ear against the door and hear more silence. Eyes closed, I lean against the wall and relive last night. Before I wade too deep into the waters of doubt, the door’s lock disengaging snaps my attention.

“Good morning,” Rowan says, stepping into the room, paper bag handles over his right wrist while his hand balances a beverage carrier with two to-go cups.

“You’re here.” A tiny ache pulses in my throat.

“I woke up about an hour ago. You were sleeping so soundly, so I didn’t want to wake you.

I grabbed us breakfast.” Allowing the door to shut behind him, he crosses to the small table tucked up against the oversized window.

“I grabbed us tea, some yogurt parfaits and”—he hoists up a pastry bag— “a croissant. They didn’t have a baklava kind, so I got chocolate almond.

” He turns and halts. “Pen, are you alright?”

Hands wringing, I frown. “I thought you left.”

“Just to get breakfast.” His green eyes fix on me.

“That was sweet… I’m sorry, I’ve never done this.” I gesture between us.

His head tilts. “Have breakfast?”

My mouth lifts into a small smile. “Have whatever last night was. When I woke up and you were gone… I worried it was a one-night stand kind of thing. Which is silly because we didn’t even have sex.

Although, you did make me come.” I press my right hand against my brow.

“ Oh god , then I fell asleep before returning the favor. That must have been so uncomfortable for you and?—”

He closes the distance between us and places his hands on my shoulders. “First, I have no intentions of last night being a one-time anything. Do you?”

“No.”

His big grin wakes up the butterflies in my stomach.

“Then we’re on the same page. Second, return the favor?

Making you come wasn’t a favor that I expect repayment for.

Feeling you fall apart beneath me and listening to those little noises you made ensured I went to bed with the biggest shit-eating grin. ”

“I’m sorry.” I let out a stuttered breath.

“I’m not usually this insecure. I haven’t been with anyone since Alex.

He kind of messed me up a bit, and I haven’t trusted myself.

” I bite back the thoughts that churn in my gut.

The ones that worry that I made another mistake. “I like you, though,” I murmur.

His thumb coasts along my cheek. “I like you, too.”

That ache in my throat dissolves.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“No, I’m sorry I’m being needy .” Cringing, I turn my gaze toward the door.

Rowan places his hand on my chin and guides my eyes back to him. “There’s nothing wrong with having needs and expressing them. We all deserve to have our desires met. I was a little needy last night and you were there for me, giving me exactly what I wanted.”

Like a kitten, I melt into the tender strokes of his fingers along my jawline. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand cups my cheek. “It’s understandable you’d be a little gun shy after what Alex did.”

I nod.

Tiny embers ignite inside me. Alex taints this moment.

Thousands of miles away in this sleepy inn where I stand in front of this sweet man – whose arms cocooned me in a sense of belonging, support, and safety all night – Alex’s baritone, smooth but venomous, and clicky dress shoes still stalk me around every corner.

“I can’t erase how he hurt you, but I could kill him for making you question anyone wanting you. For him making you believe your only value to him is your social media following or reputation. For making you think someone wouldn’t want just you.”

“Just Pen.”

A smirk twists his features. “Is there such a thing?” His fingers brush into my hair. “Know this: now that I know what it’s like to hold you, I don’t think I could ever walk away from you.”

My teeth clamp down on my lip, fighting the oversize grin trying to bloom. “I like being held by you.”

His hands come to my hips, pulling me against him. “God, all I want to do is pull you back into that bed and kiss away any worry you have, but right now I need to feed you. It’s almost nine, and we have to check out and be on the road by eleven.”

I raise to my tiptoes and press my smile against his. “Did you say you got a croissant?”

“It’s Saturday.”

My eyebrows kiss. “What?”

“You have a croissant on Saturdays. I assume if we hadn’t found ourselves in Michigan for the night, you’d be at Bread.” Taking my hand, he guides me to the table and gestures for me to take a seat.

I sit and take in the little breakfast he’s put together.

Steam billows from the two cups of English Breakfast tea.

Layers of yogurt, berries, and granola line the clear plastic cups with our parfaits.

A makeshift place setting claims each side of the table with plastic spoons sat atop paper napkins.

With Alex, there were decadent room service breakfasts complete with mimosas and a glass vase with long-stemmed red roses adorning the table of the fancy hotel.

Rowan’s thoughtfulness is like a gentle breeze versus the gale force winds of Alex’s love bombing.

Reaching across the table, I thread our fingers. “I like Just Rowan.”

And he squeezes back. “I like Just Pen.”

Four laughter-filled hours later, we make our way through Detroit’s Airport.

It’s been just over twenty-four hours since first meeting and those initial awkward layers that chafe at the start of any new friendship – or whatever this is with Rowan – is nonexistent.

Throughout our little breakfast, the ninety-minute drive to the airport, and navigating security, conversation flows easily between us.

We talk about growing up. He in Hamilton and then a bustling neighborhood in Dublin and me in a quiet suburb of Buffalo.

I make him sing along with my favorite songs on the radio.

With each moment between us, I watch his guarded nature fall away.

We toss anecdotes along our conversation like breadcrumbs leading us to get to know each other.

I talk about boozy brunches on Sunday mornings with an in-person JoJo and a virtual Trina.

He laughs about how he and his brother Finn would prank their older brother Gillian as boys.

“You drew a penis on his forehead with a Sharpie?” I guffaw, tossing my bag onto an empty chair at the gate’s boarding area.

“He was so blathered, he slept through Finn and I cackling like schoolgirls the entire time.”

“Blathered?”

He tosses his duffle beside me. “Drunk.”

“Teenaged brothers are ruthless to each other. Trina is as close to a big sister as I had growing up, and the worst thing she did was make me drink decaf tea.” I sip the chai latte Rowan bought me at the small coffeeshop at the other end of the terminal.

His hand brushes at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, this was at Christmas three years ago.”

I snort. “Why?”

“He’s such a prick, so we thought it was fitting. In our defense, there was a lot of whisky involved.” He laughs.

“Do you and Finn always gang up on Gillian?”

Our bags take up the chair beside me, so he takes the empty one directly across from me. “Yes and no. Finn’s middle ground. He’s always game to take the piss out of either of us.”

“But Gillian and you never gang up on him?”

His gaze scans the half-filled boarding area. “No.”

“You’re not close.”

It’s not a question. Each time he mentions his eldest brother, there’s a shift in Rowan’s energy. His spine stiffens and jaw tightens. It’s the same energy that bristles from me when my mother is brought up.

He leans back, scrubbing his hand over his bearded face. “Gillian’s two years older. It’s not that big of an age difference but when I was nine and he was eleven it seemed decade sized. When dad died, he became more father and less brother. He’s not relinquished that role, even now.”

“I used to wish I had a brother.” I cross my legs. “You know, someone to beat up the boys who picked on me in school.”

“First, may I have the names and addresses of these boys?”

Laughter vibrates in my chest.

His smirk flashes bright from beneath his cap’s brim. “Second, used to? Because I have two, I’ll gladly share. Finn’s easy to like. He’s the brother everyone likes best. Gillian is a first-class prick at times, but I think you could handle him.”

“If it means a penis on my face, I’ll pass.” I wince when I hear what I just said. “A drawn-on penis, not an actual—” I draw the outline of an oversized penis in the air with my free hand.

“Christ, Pen.” Head tipped back; he shakes with a deep belly laugh. “Yeah, you can handle Gillian. I just don’t know if he’d be able to handle you.”

“Am I that hard to handle?” I smirk over my cup. “You seemed to have handled me fine enough last night.”

“Luv, I’ve just begun with you.”

My skin sears with the blaze of his stare on me.

It scorches up my bare legs, over the swell of my breasts, and pauses on my slightly parted lips.

I can’t see his eyes drag along my body but feel every inch of his perusal as if it brands me in the truth between us.

Last night was only the beginning. A tiny fear whispers inside me that I may be love bombing myself, but the roar of my heart in Rowan’s presence drowns the protest.