Kiss My Cupcake(79)

Once we’re past the initial rush, it slows down until lunch, which means I can start tackling the event prep and the eleven million questions that come with it. I expect Ronan to stop by and say hello, get his cupcake fix, and go over the last-minute stuff we need to get in order for Saturday. Except that doesn’t happen.

I pop over to The Knight Cap after the lunch rush dies down, hoping to touch base with Ronan, but he’s not there. Lars isn’t on until the evening shift and Lana, one of the other bartenders, doesn’t seem to know where Ronan is or when he’ll be in.

I send him a message, asking about an ETA and when we’ll have time to go over any last-minute emergencies. Two hours and another influx of customers later, he still hasn’t responded so I start fielding questions on my own.

It’s almost four in the afternoon by the time he rolls in, looking a hell of a lot more chipper and rested than I feel. “Hey, babe.” He leans over the counter and kisses me on the cheek. He sweeps a thumb across the hollow under my eye. “Sorry I kept you up so late. You hanging in there?”

I fight that melty feeling I always get when he touches me and remind myself I’m kind of annoyed that the day is more than half over and he’s been MIA. “I’m okay. Where have you been?”

“Oh, you know, running around, picking up stuff for the weekend.”

“Did you get my message?”

“Huh?”

“I sent you a message hours ago.” I can feel my irritation building at his less than remorseful expression.

“Really? I must’ve missed it. What’s going on? What do you need?”

I blink at him, trying to figure out why he’s suddenly so…off. Preoccupied? I don’t know what it is, but I find it frustrating. “We have an event in two days. I could’ve used some help fielding questions from all the other local businesses and coordinating with them, but you were nowhere to be found.”

He seems to realize I’m pissed off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I was taking care of last-minute stuff. Who needs questions answered?”

“No one anymore, for now.”

“Fantastic. You’re always so organized. This is going to be smooth sailing until Saturday.” He pats his pocket when his phone starts buzzing. He checks the screen. “I gotta take this. I’ll stop by later.” He kisses me on the cheek again, grabs the cupcake I plated for him—like the sucker I am—and disappears out the front door, his phone at his ear.

He doesn’t stop by later, though. And when I drop by The Knight Cap again to see if he’s around to go over the fine details, I discover that he left a couple of hours ago to take care of some things, according to Lars.

“Do you know when he’s going to be back?” It’s already after nine and I’ve been going all day. I’m barely functioning on the limited sleep I managed last night.

Lars shrugs. “Dunno. He left in kind of a hurry and said he’d try to be back before closing.”

“He’d try?” I parrot. “What the hell could he be doing at this time of night?”

Lars gives me an apologetic look. “I honestly don’t know. He’s been holed up in his office most of the day, and when he’s come out he’s stuck around for a few minutes before he had to field another call. Do you want me to tell him you stopped by?”

I wave him off, feeling pathetic and highly annoyed. “No. Don’t bother. I’ll just talk to him tomorrow. I’m beat, and I need actual sleep tonight.”

“Celebrations went well into the wee hours of the morning, huh?” He tips his chin up and nods knowingly.

I don’t bother to respond. I’m sure my expression says everything.

“Aren’t you a wild one? All sweet and pretty and proper and buttoned up on the surface, but you leave some marks behind when you really let loose?” He cocks a brow in question.

I glare at him while my face turns the same color as the red in his plaid shirt. There were some scratch marks on Ronan’s back last night and my handprint on his butt from me smacking it, telling him to go harder. The handprint was likely gone by the morning, but I’m sure the scratches are still there. “What the hell has he been saying to you?”

Lars’s grin widens. “Absolutely nothing. Ronan couldn’t be more tight-lipped if he tried. It was just a guess on my part, and obviously I was right. Ronan’s a lucky asshole.”

I laugh, unsure how he managed to turn that into a compliment. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I consider texting Ronan when I get home, but I figure it’s his turn to reach out. I change into comfy clothes but don’t even manage to wash my face or take my makeup off before I pass out. On top of my covers.



The next morning I’m slightly better rested and feeling less like garbage and more half-human. I have a text from Ronan about being sorry that he missed me last night, but he’ll make it up to me. It’s followed with a slew of emojis, including eggplants, the panting-tongue thing and a bunch of hand symbols that indicate what he may be planning to do with them.

Normally I’d think it was cute. But this morning I do not. I decide not to respond right away because I’m inclined to say something snarky and less than friendly in my current, grumpy state. Clearly the sleep wasn’t enough.