“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend.” I glance at Ronan.

His gaze meets mine and he shrugs with a questioning expression. “Well, I mean…”

“Am I your girlfriend?” It’s an actual question, because riding his metaphorical bologna pony doesn’t necessarily mean we’re a thing.

“I brought you to a family function, so that generally means I wouldn’t have a problem introducing you as my girlfriend.”

Daniel snorts, and Gramps’s smile widens.

“I invited you to a family function when you and I were barely civil to each other.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to bring this up, because all it’s doing is making this awkward situation even more awkward, since Daniel and Gramps are ping-ponging between us, watching this go down with something like gleeful amusement.

“Yeah, but we had a connection right from the start. And you invited me because you felt guilty, so it wasn’t an actual date. And come to think of it, I was a shield more than anything.” Ronan’s grinning, like he finds this entire thing entertaining as well.

My cheeks heat at his instant-connection reference since he’s correct, even though I was determined not to find him sexy, at least when he was being inflexible and breaking my unicorn glasses. “You weren’t a shield. It was a spur-of-the-moment invitation, and yes I felt some guilt, but that wasn’t the sole impetus for asking you to come along. I mean, look at you.” I motion to his casual attire, which consists of a long-sleeved shirt, pushed up to expose half of his forearms, and his dark wash jeans. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes. And while you were certainly a convenient distraction from my family’s lunacy, it wasn’t the dominant motivating factor.”

Ronan cocks a brow. “I see how it is. You just wanted to objectify me.”

I shrug. “Didn’t hurt to have someone nice to look at while the insanity ensued.”

Daniel claps Ronan on the shoulder. “You’ve finally met your match. This is so great. Just don’t get hitched before Aiden and Leslie, or she’s never going to let him live it down, and it’ll be the rest of us who suffer.”

Ronan gives him a what the hell look. “Thanks for making this introduction not awkward at all, Dan.”

“I’m here for you, bro. Now please get your ass in the kitchen so I can eat some damn donuts.”

“Watch yer language in front of Blaire,” Gramps warns. He’s been quietly standing off to the side, hands clasped in front of him, rocking back on his heels. Until the profanity anyway. Now his expression is adorably stern.

“It’s fine, Henry.” I put a comforting hand on his arm and wink. “I’m a big girl; I’ve heard all the bad words.”

He pats my hand. “Oh, I’m sure you have. And they’re not donuts, they’re New Year’s cookies. Dottie could nae stand it when the boys called them donuts. Drove her batty. Rest her soul.” He makes the sign of the cross and blinks a few times, eyes shadowed in sadness for a moment before they clear. “Come, dear, let’s get you a drink.”

A full bar is set up, and I opt for one of Ronan’s beers, because they’re delicious and if I sip it slowly I won’t have to worry about getting tipsy too fast.

We find Leslie and Aiden in the kitchen. This time Ronan introduces me as his girlfriend, and I don’t dispute him. Aiden pulls Ronan in for a hug. “Thank God you’re here, man. Save me, please.”

Leslie looks frazzled and like she would rather be doing anything other than standing in front of a pot of boiling oil.

The kitchen probably hasn’t been renovated since sometime in the nineties if I had to guess based on the cabinets. There’s a new stainless steel stove, fridge, and dishwasher, though. I’m assuming either Ronan or his brothers were responsible for the updates to bring his grandfather into the twenty-first century, at least from an appliance standpoint.

I survey the counter, the giant bowl of dough, the variety of adds-ins in the form of cinnamon and sugarcoated apple chunks, chopped dried fruit, and raisins. “Oh! It’s oliebollen!”

“Huh?” Everyone in the kitchen turns to look at me.

“Oliebollen. Mennonite New Year’s cookies. They’re the same thing. I loved these as a kid!” I motion to the spread.

“You know what these are?” Leslie asks. She sounds somewhere between hopeful and desperate.

“I haven’t had them since I was a teenager, but definitely. My grandmother was Mennonite.”

“Seriously?” Ronan’s shock is actually reasonable.

“Non-practicing. She passed when I was fourteen, but up until then we had oliebollen every New Year’s. They just bring back so many great memories.” Before my family let all their crazy hang out. I realize I’m getting misty, which is embarrassing in front of a bunch of people I’ve just met who are related to my new boyfriend.

Thankfully, Leslie seems oblivious. “Do you know how to make them?”

“Blaire runs Buttercream and Booze, the place next to The Knight Cap.”

“This is Alice in Wonderland?” Aiden’s eyes dart between the two of us. “I mean. Damn.”

“You’ve mentioned me before?” I arch a brow, waiting to see how he’s going to try to get out of this.

“Mentioned you before? Dude was obsessed at the end of the summer, pretty much every single time I got on the phone with him he was moaning about how good your cupcakes were.”

“Aiden,” Ronan snaps.

“What?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah. I know. I have zero social skills; just ask Leslie.” He thumbs over his shoulder at his fiancée.

“He’s right,” Leslie chimes in. “But his brain is big and full of numbers, and I find that hopelessly sexy, so I decided to keep him.” She passes her apron to me. “Please help us. All I want to do is eat donuts. I’ve been saving myself for these so all I’ve had today is a yogurt cup with blueberries and the ones I’ve made so far aren’t all that great.” She pokes at the overdone balls.

“They look super for your first time!” I lie. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll have a fresh batch for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m fully prepared to make cookies,” Ronan interjects.