Page 51 of Thanks for Coming Along
"Get lost horndogs or I'm getting my rifle!" the nasally voice said again. Ronan grabbed Eden's hand, and they walked back to the bar, soaked and laughing the entire way back.
34
Eden
Eden woke up the following morning with a massive smile on her face.Ronan had kissed her last night. She placed her fingers on her lips and swore she could still feel his lips lingering on hers. She felt like a teenager - her heart fluttering, her stomach doing flips.
She stretched her arms and legs in her bed and let out a little squeal of happiness. Ronan had been a gentleman last night when they arrived back home. He kissed her knuckles like she was a motherfuckingprincessand retired into his own bedroom. She was only slightly miffed he hadn’t pushed things further, but honestly, she couldn’t complain about his chivalry. Deep down, she knew it was the right thing to do. They should take things slow. She also knew the right thing didn't usually correlate with thefunthing.
She grabbed her phone to send a quick text to Ingrid to update her, but her stomach instantly dropped when she saw several missed calls from Sloane. When Sloane calls, it is never for a quick catch-up or to discuss a new episode of Love Island. She is calling to scold or propose a new business opportunity. Multiple calls in a row usually indicate verbal flogging.This cannot be good.
Eden found Sloane's name in the missed call list, her thumb hovering over her name for a second, and then she reluctantly pressed it.
“Eden, Eden, Edeeen.” Sloane's voice said ominously, stretching her name out menacingly. "We have to stop meeting like this." The sarcastic note was not lost on Eden.
"What's up, Sloane?" Eden replied, bracing herself for the worst possible situation. Had someone seen Ronan and her kissing? Or maybe the paparazzi had caught her in her socks and sandals. She knew it was a controversial fashion statement, but it was just so comfortable.
"Lovely Instagram photo you posted last night." Sloane's voice was complimentary, sweet even. Her tone was highly unusual, and Eden's stomach churned at her kindness, knowing the rug was about to be pulled out from beneath her.
"Thank you?" Eden had meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question.
"You foolish girl! Did you run the photo by your social media manager?" Sloane's voice was no longer pleasant. Now, she sounded sour. Talk about a sour patch kid.
"Uh, no, I thought it was innocent enough,” Eden squeezed her eyes closed, preparing for a verbal beatdown.
"I have taught you better! Do you realize your Instagram photo has linked you to Lake Tahoe?" Sloane's voice raised an octave.
"What's wrong with that?" Eden asked, missing her point. Shewasin Lake Tahoe. What did that have to do with anything?
"Well, a cozy video of Ronan Murphy carrying you around a karaoke bar while you perch in his arms like a prized cockatoo has surfaced online,” Sloane reprimanded. Eden pressed her lips together to smother her laughter at the image Sloane created in her mind. "BNN is not happy. They want this documentary to be taken seriously. They don't want the press of the two of you canoodling."
"Who cares? Maybe it will make people want to watch the documentary." Eden gritted her teeth. She was bone-tired of old men in suits telling her how to live her life. She understood she was in the public eye, but she reached a point where she was putting her happiness on hold for the sake of an image.
"They don't see it that way. Although the record label is happy with the coverage,” Sloane said as she took a sip of something, probably a concoction of the eye of a newt and the toe of a frog. Eden still wasn't convinced Sloane wasn't a witch of some sort. Who else could have the ability to work 24/7 and stay on top of multiple clients? It was otherworldly and impressive but didn't seem humanly possible. "Are you dating Ronan? I need to know these things."
"Ummm, I don't know?" Eden honestly wasn't sure. She wanted to believe they were dating, but she wasn’t quite sure how to label whatever was going on between her and Ronan. If she had to put a label on it, maybe “super hot live-in journalist” or “work crush I shamelessly ogle” would do the trick.
"You are killing me. I have teeny bopper clients with less complicated love lives," Sloane said with a sigh. "Just lie low for a while. If you want this documentary to be aired, you need to cool off things for a bit."
Eden frowned, her brows furrowing in frustration. That was the opposite of what she wanted to do. But what other option did she have? Ronan's career was on the line if they didn't follow BNN's instructions. Eden sighed heavily. Talk about a mood killer, her previous buzz slaughtered.
"Okay, Sloane. Consider it chilled." Eden tried to keep her voice cheerful, but it came out flat.
"How is the album going?" Sloane asked, changing the subject. Wise choice. Eden was ready to fling her phone across the room with any more talk of putting the brakes on a relationship she wasn't even sure she was in.
"It's.. going. I'm almost done with writing all of the songs." Eden tried for cheery again, but the words came out forced. It wasn't a lie. She had made decent progress with melodies, but lyrics were largely escaping her.
Sloane and Eden spoke for a few more minutes, trying to formulate a timeline for recording, producing, and releasing her album. They agreed to start recording within the next few weeks, and then she hung up the phone.
Eden paced the length of her bedroom, attempting to shift her focus to the upcoming album, but Ronan lingered persistently in her thoughts. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared out the window, realizing he was the focal point of all of her thoughts—the common denominator. She had felt too uncomfortable dissecting her feelings for Ronan up until recently. Instead of allowing Ronan to be a distraction, she needed to harness those pent-up feelings and channel them into creating songs. It was time to turn those emotions into music.Duh.
Eden went out to the kitchen for a cup of coffee that she desperately needed. All this talk of distance between Ronan and her had seriously clouded her brain. Her upper body leaned across the kitchen counter on her elbows as she sipped her coffee. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the caffeine work its magic, when she heard a light shuffle of feet behind her.
She leisurely looked over her shoulder to find Ronan's eyes looking squarely at her ass. She smiled to herself.Okay, Sloane, cool things off.That seemedtotallyrealistic. Sloane didn't realize that there was some kind of sorcery between her and Ronan. She was almost inclined to believe in dark magic, considering how bewitched Ronan seemed by her ass. Ronan didn't even notice her eyes on him because his gaze was fully occupied elsewhere. To give him some credit, her small cotton pajama shorts were definitely skimpy.
Eden turned her head back to sip her coffee, trying to ignore the flutter of excitement in her chest. She couldn't help herself but shift her foot placement, adding a little shake to her ass. She heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, bullseye. She wanted to crackle evilly like a villain, but she bit her tongue. She stuck to smiling in her coffee cup and said, "Good morning, Ronan."
A lumber of footsteps and a grunt was the reply.
