17. Ryan
“ H ey, Tatum!”
My back stiffens at the sound of my brother’s booming voice. I’d like more than anything to pretend I’m not here, but he’ll holler until people glare at me.
With a reluctant groan, I stand.
And inhale sharply at the tall form standing next to him. Of course they’re together. They’re inseparable.
Except at night, when I’m propositioning Ronan in his bed.
He watches me approach, the tiniest smile curving his full lips. Lips I have yet to kiss. Yet? No! It’s not happening!
I lock my focus on Connor. Does he know? Has Ronan told him?
If he has, and Connor announces it in here, which I wouldn’t put past him, I will stab him with the pencil in my grip.
“What do you want?” It comes out harsher than I intend. That’s the way my anxiety reveals itself—I turn into a bitch. And boy, am I anxious.
Connor leans over the desk, his massive body dusty and sweaty from being outside in the heat. “You didn’t meet us out back today.”
“I never do.” I’ve intentionally kept myself busy over the lunch hour, eating at my desk or running errands, not wanting to risk an awkward situation where my teammates get together and David is there. With her .
“You did on Monday.”
“Yeah, well … that was once.” My voice cracks over those words. Ronan basically said that to me last night. Just this once .
Connor shrugs. “We missed you.”
I search for some hint that he knows. I see nothing, and he’s not good at keeping secrets. Especially not one like that.
Ronan hasn’t told him.
A small sigh of relief escapes me, even as the other side of the coin shows itself. Does Ronan regret last night? Did he wake up this morning, dreading seeing me? Did he enjoy it? Oh my God. What if it was terrible for him?
I clear my throat to calm my nerves. “Why are you really here?”
“Jean asked Ronan to come down and sign some things for Alaska.”
“And here they are.” Jean sidles up next to me, laying out a few forms on the counter in front of her, giggling nervously. “I feel like we just did this.”
“Because we did.”
I watch him take the pen in those strong, calloused fingers—the same fingers that were inside me last night—and begin filling in the boxes. His penmanship is surprisingly neat.
Connor’s phone rings in his pocket. “I gotta take this. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
“All right. I’ll be done in a minute.”
Connor ducks out.
I can’t help myself. “Can you survive without my brother next to you for that long?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Hey, Jean, I heard there might be an extra copy of the Wolf Alaska brochure here somewhere. Would you mind checking?” Ronan smoothly asks.
“Could be one in the mail room? Give me a sec.” She trots off, leaving me alone with him.
I turn to go back to my desk.
“Stop.”
The single word stalls my legs. “What?”
He makes me wait for an answer, leisurely signing and dating the bottom of the form. I use that time to study his sleeve of tattoos. I’ve caught nothing more than glimpses so far—of an angel, a woman’s face, an old-fashioned scale, a skull. The designs are both beautiful and raw. And so masculine.
I’ve never found tattoos appealing until now. It’s more likely the canvas that I’m becoming infatuated with. Ronan could model, as handsome as he is. I could see him on some edgy, black-and-white magazine cover, with motorcycles and leather and cigarettes.
Finally, I can’t stand the silence. “You know you don’t need the pamphlet. You can get all the Alaska info on the website.”
“My mom asked me to send it. She likes things in print.”
Ugh. Why does him saying that make him even hotter? Bastard.
A secretive smile curls his lips. “No jog this morning?”
So, he knows I was hiding in my room. “I wasn’t up to it.”
“Avoiding someone.”
“Just didn’t feel like it,” I lie. A run would have been a fantastic way to burn anxiety.
“Hmm …” He sets the pen down and slides the paperwork forward, the side of his thumb grazing mine as his piercing eyes lift to settle on me. “Didn’t take you for a chickenshit.”
“I’m not.” I fight the urge to pull away. Not because I don’t want to touch him, because I so badly do. I glance around to make sure no one’s watching. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” I whisper .
He leans in, dropping his voice to match mine. “Did you honestly think I’d tell Connor that I fucked his sister last night?”
A shiver skates down my spine with his crass words. “It’s not like he’d care.”
Ronan chuckles. “I think you’re wrong about that.”
“Well … remember your promise.”
“What’s it worth to you for me to keep it?” A rare and wicked smile curves his lips, his focus dropping to my mouth. “Because I’d love to watch you give me a?—”
“The last one!” Jean speeds toward us, waving the colorful pamphlet in her hand.
I step back, breaking contact.
He settles that devastating smile to Jean. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.” She fumbles with her hair. “Do you need anything else?”
“Nope. Thanks.” His gaze shifts back to me. “School tonight, Ryan?”
“As usual.” When I enrolled in the master’s program last fall, I had this crazy idea that it would be manageable. Work full time, go to class four evenings a week, use my weekends for assignments … easy enough. Clearly, I was delusional. Thank God it’s Thursday and my last lecture for the week.
“I guess I’ll see you at home, then.”
“Maybe.” I try for casual indifference. It comes out strangled.
Ronan swaggers out the door, chuckling.
I hit the button for four and let my backpack fall to the elevator floor. It lands with a thud and then topples. My textbooks spill out.
“Shit.” I stoop to pick them up just as someone stops the sliding doors from closing.
“I hate it when people jump into a closing elevator,” a guy says, out of breath, reaching to help me.
I look up to find a man smiling at me. He obviously came from the gym or a jog because his shorts and T-shirt are drenched with sweat and his blond hair hangs limp around his forehead.
I stand. “I wasn’t cursing you. I was cursing these.”
Blue eyes take in the textbook in his grip. “Economic policy. My favorite.”
“You’re lying, right?”
“If I say that I’m not, will you think less of me?” He flashes a boyish grin. “I majored in economics at Cornell.”
“Impressive.” Only one of the top schools in the country. This guy must be smart. And I’ve never seen him before. “Did you just move in?”
“About a month ago.” He pauses for a second, then thrusts out his hand. “I’m Kyle.”
I fumble to free myself and take it. “Ryan.”
The elevator opens to the fourth floor. Kyle holds the door and waits for me to step out.
“It was nice to meet you,” I offer.
“Yeah, you too.” He hesitates. “I’ll see you around the building?” It comes out sounding like a question—or an invitation?
But I’m too focused on my next run-in with my new roommate to give it much thought. “Yeah, sure.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the end of the hall, equal parts excited and panicked.
It’s Thursday. Connor always goes out on Thursdays, and since the two of them have been attached at the hip, I have to assume Ronan’s gone too. They’re likely at the bar. Will Ronan pick up someone tonight?
Is he going to bring home a woman ?
An unexpected wave of dread hits me, even as I remind myself that he was up front with me last night about it being a onetime thing. He’s going to do whatever he wants with whomever he wants tonight.
I’m so dumb.
Why did I think sleeping with him was a good idea?
By the time I walk into our empty condo, I’ve worked my stomach into knots.
Now I get to sit here, my guts twisted with all kinds of terrible ideas. Seriously, this is why I can’t have casual sex.
With a groan, I throw my bag to the floor and head for the fridge, even though my appetite is dead.
“What the …” I frown as I take in my shelf. Everything is shifted around, out of order. The large containers are sitting on top of small ones. And my yogurts are flipped upside down. It’s utter chaos.
Connor wouldn’t do this. He knows how much I hate people touching my things.
This had to be Ronan’s work. Is it payback for something or is he trying to get under my skin?
Is this the equivalent of pulling pigtails in twenty-something-year-old Man Whore Land?
I actually don’t know how old he is. Or anything about him.
Shaking my head, I spend a few minutes reorganizing everything before I grab an apple and head to my room.
Things are out of place there too. It’s all subtle, and for someone who isn’t particular probably wouldn’t be noticeable. A picture that’s not quite straight, a book that’s flipped upside down in a stack of right-side-up books, a necklace dangling oddly on its hook.
My stomach erupts in butterflies even as my jaw tenses, knowing Ronan was in my bedroom. He’s testing me.
But to what end? To tell me he’s thinking about me?
Or simply to piss me off.
No. It’s to get a reaction out of me and force a confrontation .
Two can play at this game.
I hesitate with my hand on his doorknob, listening intently.
No sound. The door creaks as I push it open.
My pulse skips a beat at the sight of his bed—unmade, the sheets tangled in a ball.
His work clothes are strewn over the dresser, along with a fistful of change and scraps of papers.
Receipts, though I see phone numbers scrawled on the backs.
God, he’s as bad as my brother. Did he get those numbers today while trolling the hotel beach, pretending to work?
Another wave of dismay washes over me. If he brings someone home and I have to listen to them have sex … I don’t think I’ll be capable of shrugging it off so easily.
There’s not much I can do in here to irritate him. It’s already a mess. I could clean his room, toss out all those phone numbers. Would he care?
I know one thing he will care about.
I dart over to his nightstand. Inside the top drawer is a box of condoms—economy size. “Pig,” I mutter. Let’s see how far he gets without these.
There’s not much else in the drawer. A tube of lubricant, unopened.
My cheeks flush. We definitely didn’t need that.
There’s also a framed picture. I pull it out and study it.
It’s of Ronan in a graduation gown, his arm around a stunning brunette.
She’s smiling broadly, her arms wrapped around his waist. They look like they’re in love. I’m guessing this is his ex.
He’s holding a certificate in his hands. It’s difficult to read, but I manage to make out the University of Indianapolis label.
Ronan went to college?
Why the hell is he working in the outdoor crew at Wolf, then?
Shaking my head—I really don’t know anything about the guy I slept with last night—I set the picture back into the drawer and slide it shut.
The sound of keys jangling in the front door has my heart racing. I bolt, intent on getting out of Ronan’s room before he catches me. But my baby toe catches the corner of the bed frame, and I go down like a sack of rocks, my vision blurring as pain shoots through my foot.
I’m fighting the tears as I hear Connor’s booming voice from the living room and footfalls approaching in the hallway.
I have just enough time to shove the box of condoms under the bed before Ronan appears in nothing but shorts, his T-shirt thrown over his shoulder, his bare chest glistening with sweat.
Surprise hits his face. “Ryan?”
“What?” I snap. The pain is beginning to subside. I force myself to stand and face him.
He leans against the door frame, a knowing smirk growing on his face.
Connor appears behind him. “Ry? What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Looking for something.”
His face screws up. “In Ronan’s room?”
“Yes, in Ronan’s room. Because Ronan likes to touch my things without asking.”
Ronan settles a heated gaze on me. “I can’t help myself. I like it when you scream. At me.”
Struggling to keep my cool—even as my cheeks grow hot—I hobble toward the door, noting the volleyball under Connor’s arm. “Trying to pick up women at the beach again?”
Connor grins. “Not trying. Succeeding. They’re meeting us later.”
The change of topic worked. Unfortunately, the answer isn’t what I wanted to hear. My stomach flips. “Great. Let me by, please?”
Ronan watches me intently as I squeeze past, making every effort not to touch him.
I don’t come out of my room again until they’ve left.