“You should go. I know you have to work. What time do you have to be at the gym?”
“I’m good.”
I began running a knife around the edges of the pans to loosen the cakes. “Really, Ronan, it’s fine.”
He picked up a knife and imitated me. “No, I like being here with you.”
I liked hearing him say that.
“Tell me a funny story about some asshole at the gym. I bet you get people all the time.”
“Oh, not really. I guess I’ve been lucky,” he mumbled.
There was something in his tone, and I glanced up. There were slashes of crimson across the tops of his cheeks, and it occurred to me that perhaps he didn’t like to talk about the gym, so I let it drop.
Ronan watched as I flipped the cakes onto the racks to finish cooling. I explained I would put parchment paper between the layers and wrap them tight. “They’ll get frosted in the morning, rewrapped, and put in the fridge to be stored.”
“Do they ever run out?”
“Yes. I think I’ll have to start doing this twice a week. Making double batches.”
“Do you have time?”
I shrugged. “I’ll make time.”
All too soon, the next batch was ready. I had to admit, having Ronan there was a treat. While I was wrapping the cakes, he scrubbed the pans. He helped me carry the cakes to the shelves. He lifted the heavy container of icing into the refrigerator. He let me talk, asking a ton of questions about clouds and storms and the classes I took. He said very little, but I gleaned he loved to work out, swim, hike, and above all, eat. He lived alone, saw his family when he could, and listened to music a lot. He also confessed to loving theater shows.
“My mom and aunts took us when we were younger. My brothers weren’t so big on them, but I loved them. When I was older, I went with my mom and my sister.”
“Musicals too?”
He grinned as he leaned forward and kissed the end of my nose. “Those were my favorites. I bet I could sing any song you threw at me.”
And for twenty minutes, he did. He had a loud singing voice, way off-key, but his enthusiasm was catchy and he made me laugh with his overdramatic gestures. His Man of La Mancha was especially zealous. I clapped at the end.
“Maybe I could take you to one,” he suggested as I began to wrap the last of the cakes after his performance ended.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Me too.”
I wiped off the counter. “Done.”
“Okay. I’ll walk you to your car.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a car.”
“How do you get home?”
“The subway is at the corner.”
“It’s past one in the morning.”
“They run until two.”
He frowned. “That’s not what I meant. It’s late. You’re alone.”
“I don’t drive, Ronan. I don’t own a car.”
“What about a cab? An Uber?”
“If the weather is bad, then I take one. But otherwise, I take the subway, or the bus if it’s later.”
His lips thinned in displeasure. “So, you take the subway every night?”
“Yes. Every morning too. Quite often in the afternoon as well,” I teased, wanting him to stop looking so upset.
“Not tonight.” He held out his hand. “I’m driving you home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me close. He looked down at me, his eyebrows drawn tight. I could see the small flecks of brown and gold around his pupils. “Yes, it is. Get your purse.”
Then he kissed me, and the argument I was about to start somehow was erased from my head. The words were gone, and all that I cared about was his mouth on mine. Even when he pulled away, I couldn’t speak.
“Get your coat.”
And I did.
* * *
Ronan pulled up in front of the house, cutting the engine. He had been his usual gentlemanly self, opening my door, helping with the seat belt, and making sure I was warm enough, but he had been quiet.
I turned to him, laying my hand on his arm. “Thanks for the ride, Ronan. Unnecessary, but I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you did tonight. You made the work fun.”
A reluctant smile crossed his lips. “It was fun. I enjoyed myself.”
I laughed. “You are too sweet.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Good night.”
I was partway to the front door when he caught up with me, holding my elbow and spinning me around. His eyes glittered in the low light. “I don’t like thinking of you riding the subway late at night.”
I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if I had much choice. Cabs, even Ubers, would add up fast and negate the cake income.
“It’s part of my life, Ronan. At least for now.”
“It’s not safe.”
“There are two bars between the diner and the corner. They’re open late, so there are people around. The subway stop is less than a block from here, and often others get off when I do. I walk on the road and make sure I am aware of my surroundings. I’ve taken self-defense courses. I can take care of myself.”