Susan Mallery - Why Not Tonight

She put back the dish and turned to the family room. It was definitely a man’s room—the large black sectional faced a movie-theater-size television. There were a few pictures on the wall but what really got her attention was the wooden carved bear in the corner. It was life-size and incredibly realistic. The only thing that kept it from being terrifying was the cup of coffee it held in one paw. She moved closer and saw a plaque at the bottom that read Vern.

Natalie laughed, then touched the wood. She knew the artist of the carved bear as well as she knew the maker of the dishes. Nick was a third Mitchell brother.

She had to admit she was confused. She would swear that Ronan was almost entirely disconnected from his brothers. He barely spoke to them when he was in the gallery workshop and he was spending more and more time up here, on his own. Yet he had their work in his house.

She walked back to the foyer and debated the stairs or the longer hallway. The curved staircase was too intriguing to be ignored, so she went upstairs and found herself in what she assumed was a guest room. There was a queen-size bed, a dresser with a TV on top, a small desk and an adjoining bathroom stocked with basic supplies.

She tried not to shriek when she saw herself in the mirror. Her hair had curled as it dried and was now a bouncing riot of brown ringlets. Oh, to have her blow-dryer and some decent styling product.

She went downstairs and headed down the long hall. She came to a study with a big desk and lots of books. No doubt where Ronan liked to sit and count his money, she thought with a grin. She walked out and glanced to her left. There was only one more doorway and she knew it led to the master bedroom. Temptation whispered, but she ignored the voice. She was exploring, not prying. Besides, she’d already caught a glimpse on her way to the bathroom. She knew what it looked like, even though she very much wanted to spend some quality time admiring his roommate, the sprite. Determined to be a courteous guest, she returned to the foyer, grabbed her tote bag and went into the kitchen.

She sat at the table and pulled a flat plastic box from her bag. She opened it, then flipped through the various pieces of square paper until she found a deep green sheet. She studied it for a second, then began to fold the paper.

Less than two minutes later, she’d finished the origami dragon. From the laundry room, the washer beeped that it had completed its cycle. She got up and put her clothes and the sheets in the dryer, then left the small dragon on Ronan’s desk in the study.

Back in the kitchen, she noticed two doors. One led to the garage and the other led to yet another hallway. No, that wasn’t right. It was a covered walkway, but instead of traditional walls, these were made of glass, allowing her to see out into the storm on both sides. The flooring was stone. She sucked in a breath before taking her first step.

As she followed the path, she realized the glass was curved. There was a door at the other end. A door with a lock. She tried the handle and it turned easily, opening to a much smaller foyer. More doors. One stood open; the other was closed. She moved to the open door and stared into sacred space.

Ronan’s workshop was enormous—probably at least a couple thousand square feet. The ceilings soared. There were two ovens, equipment everywhere. Benches, bins, raw material for making glass and, on the wall opposite, a to-scale-size drawing of his current commission.

On the left was a beautiful swan, on the right an equally stunning dragon. The ten feet in between showed one creature transforming into the other. It was magical enough on paper, but the finished product would be done entirely in glass.

There was a similar rendering back in the gallery workshop. She knew parts of it were finished, but not enough, mostly because these days Ronan wasn’t working. Even now, both ovens were cold and dark.

It occurred to her a second too late that coming into the studio uninvited was much more of an intrusion than going into Ronan’s bedroom. He was an artist and this was—

“Natalie?”

She jumped and turned as Ronan approached. He stepped out of the shadows, all handsome and broody.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

He didn’t look mad or concerned about her being in his studio, which was a relief. She managed a smile.

“Yes, I’m doing laundry. It’s going great.” Ack! That was an incredibly inane thing to say, but he’d startled her.

“I talked to the head of the county road crew. The way down the mountain is blocked. They’re going to try to get it cleared as soon as possible, but the storm has to pass first and the main roads will have priority.”

He paused as if waiting for her to react. She replayed his words and realized the significance. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“So I’m stuck. Sorry. You must hate that.”

His expression turned from concerned to quizzical. “You just lost your car and now you can’t go home. You’re the one who gets to be upset.”

“I’m totally fine. The house is great and we have power and food. It’s not a problem. Really.”

“I would have expected more demands.”

She laughed. “From me? Seriously?”

“No, not from you. You always seem to take things in stride. There’s a guest room at the top of the stairs. Make yourself at home.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I left my phone at the office. I didn’t mean to make you come all this way and then lose your car and get trapped.”

“Let the car go.” She grinned at her own pun. “You know what I mean. It’s really a happy thing. Now I can get a new one. It’s going to be red, that’s for sure. Bright red, if they have one. Anyway, I’ll go get settled.”

“Dinner at seven?” he asked before she left.

“Sure.” For a second she nearly added, “Thank you for asking,” only to stop herself in time. He wasn’t asking her out on a date—he was feeding an uninvited guest. She wasn’t a stranger—they knew each other from work, but she doubted he was superexcited about her presence. The one thing she knew about Ronan for sure was he loved, loved, loved to be alone.

She gave a little wave as she left. She’d had plenty of alone time since she’d lost her mom nearly seven years ago. Alone was something she didn’t like at all. People should be together, preferably surrounded by those they loved. She didn’t have family, but she was doing her best to build one of her own making. Ronan had his brothers so close and yet he rarely spent time with them. Talk about stupid and wasteful.

Not her rock, she told herself. She was a temporary guest, nothing more. He wasn’t interested in her opinion and she wasn’t going to give it. Really.

* * *

RONAN FOUND HIMSELF in the uneasy position of feeling out of place in his own house. He couldn’t believe one petite, unassuming woman could have that much of an impact on him, but although he couldn’t see Natalie or even hear her, knowing she was around was unsettling. He was torn between avoiding her and wanting to find her and...and...

Best not to go there, he told himself. She was his guest. He knew better, which was something because he didn’t seem to know much else.

When had it happened? When had he left the world of normal people and become some kind of misfit recluse? It hadn’t been his plan. When he’d first bought the house, he’d assumed he would have his brothers over all the time to hang out. He’d figured they would come up here to work as a change of pace from Atsuko’s studio. Only none of that had happened. Instead he’d used his house as a retreat, at least at first. Now it was little more than a self-imposed prison.

Which was way too dramatic, he thought as he set out a casserole left by his housekeeping service. It would serve two and looked like something Natalie might like.