Kiss My Cupcake(74)

And Tori is certainly not immune, considering the dreamy look that came over her face when she mentioned Ronan. I can totally relate, because it’s the same look I wear all the time around him. I finish cleaning up, send my servers home, and make sure everything is prepped for the morning. In the quiet that follows, I take a quick look at the books. I’m not entirely sure what the point is, since I already know I’m balancing on a fine line these days.

Even more discouraged, I close up and head over to The Knight Cap to check out how Ronan’s night is going. Of course the band is on point and the crowd is going wild. I spot Tori over by the bar, chatting it up with Ronan. Every once in a while, she throws her head back and laughs at something he says.

Tori is a stunning, perfect woman. She’s camera ready and a successful entrepreneur who travels the world. She’s smart, savvy, and gorgeous. Yes, she has a high-profile athlete boyfriend, but there have been some rumors lately about trouble in paradise, and Ronan is a professional flirt. It might be harmless, but I’m a little sensitive after the way my night has gone.

Lars appears beside me from out of nowhere and hands me a shot. “You gotta stop trying to kill her with your laser beam stare.”

“Huh?”

“Tori. You look like you want to destroy her. He’s not flirting. He’s just chatting and really fucking oblivious.” Lars is smirking.

“I know he’s not flirting.” I toss back the shot.

“Your chill is at zero, though. I mean, I know you two got it bad for each other, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m mentally preparing myself to go over and say hello without also saying or doing something stupid. I want to tell Lars his comedian friend sucked, but I figure I’m in too much of a mood not to be a total jerk about it, so I decide to save that for later.

Lars snorts and hands me a cocktail. I don’t know where he’s keeping the cocktails, or the shots, but I’m not about to say no to them. “Whatever you say, Blaire. Give him a few more minutes before you go over there and stake your claim. I know you’re together and stuff, but he wouldn’t sabotage you, so you should extend the same courtesy.”

“I wouldn’t sabotage Ronan!” I say, indignant.

“Not intentionally, but you’ve got that look in your eye, like you want to catfight her. And I think it’s human nature to protect what’s yours.”

“That’s rather insightful. Although, I’ve never actually been in a fight, and I don’t want to get into one with the person who has the potential to help put mine or Ronan’s business on the map.”

“I don’t mean that you’d actually fight her. I think you’re more likely to do or say something that could mess up your chances when you’re feeling this territorial, so it’s best you just hang with me until she moves on.” He drapes his arm over my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “He’s going home with you, and that’s really the only thing that should matter.”

Tori doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to move on, and I’m tired and prickly, so I decide home is a better option than spreading my bad mood to Ronan when he’s clearly riding the high tonight.

“I’m going to head out.”

“You want me to give Ronan a message?”

“That’s okay. I’ll text him that I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“You all right to drive?”

“I just had that one shot, and like three sips of this.” I pass him my mostly full cocktail.

“You’re sure you want to leave?”

“He needs his focus to be where it is, and I don’t want to be the clingy girlfriend.”

I leave out the front door instead of going through the bar and using the service entrance, mostly so Ronan doesn’t see me. I get what Daphne was saying when I first started sleeping with my competition and how it would complicate things. She wasn’t wrong. I don’t want him to lose, but I also want to win. It’s a weird spot to be in, and right now I could really use the positive press to help bolster business.

I shoot Ronan a message when I get home, letting him know I stopped by, but that he and Tori were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt, so I’ll see him tomorrow. I throw in a couple of kissy-face emojis to make it seem upbeat and not like I’m a jealous girlfriend, or mopey, when in reality I’m both.

I change into a comfy sleep shirt, get my dress ready for tomorrow, and decide I’ve had enough of today. I brush my teeth, grab a glass of water, and climb into bed. I’ve just turned off the light when my phone buzzes, not with a message, but a call, from Ronan.

I debate letting it go to voicemail, but I decide that would be a jerk move. It’s not Ronan’s fault that my last act wasn’t great and his band was. Or that he’s ridiculously attractive and charming and women go gaga over him. Myself included.

I accept the call. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. You took off without saying good-bye. I thought I was coming back to your place.” There’s no accusation in his voice, just a hint of disappointment.

“You were busy with Tori, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just tired after a long day.” It’s more of an omission than a lie.