42. Sloane #2
“The bro workin’ at the hotel.”
My heart skips a beat. “Ronan?”
“That one. He said to call him ASAP. Something work- related. Says you have his number but you probably tossed it, so he gave it to me again.”
“No, I’ve still got it.” Tucked away in my purse. “I was going to throw it out.”
“Yeah, sure you were. Anyway, he said you’d want to call him, like, now . He was at the coffee shop this morning too.”
“Really?” A mixture of curiosity and worry stirs in my stomach. What’s this about? Is Ronan going to tell me he can’t keep up his end of our deal?
“The guy seems to be working extra hard to not get into your pants. You know, because I vetoed him, remember? Give Gigi a kiss for me.” The line goes dead before I can tell him to mind his own business.
I fish out Ronan’s business card and punch in the number he scrawled on the back.
He answers on the second ring, his voice somehow raspier with a basic, “Hey.”
“Frank told me you’re looking for me?”
“Sea Witch?”
“How many other people do you call and leave cryptic messages for?” And why are my cheeks burning with embarrassment—again—over the fact that I threw myself at him and he shut me down?
“In general, or just today?” Amusement taints his voice. He sounds more like the flirtatious version sprawled out on the beach.
But my hormones will not sway me today. “What’s up?”
“Gotta run something by you, but it needs to be in the next hour. You home?”
“No.” I falter, stealing a glance at Gigi. She’s cleaning up all evidence of the scone, burying the wrapper and crumbs in the bottom of her wastebasket. “But I can be in about twenty minutes.” I need to change, anyway.
“’Kay. I’ll meet you at your place.”
“Wait, what do you?— ”
The call disconnects before I finish my question.
“I’ve got to go. It’s something to do with work.” I think. Nerves flutter in my stomach at the idea of seeing Ronan again.
“That’s okay. You go on and do what you’ve gotta do. I’ve gotta prep for my big windfall!” She fishes a folded wad of cash from inside her bra. Gigi has picked up gambling since she moved in here. I’m not sure if I should be worried.
With a kiss on her forehead—and a second one from Frank—I hurry out the door.
A sleek and sporty black BMW is parked in front of my house when I pull in. It reminds me of all the times Henry Wolf’s lackey would roll up my driveway in his luxury sedan to dangle a fat check in our faces. Only this time it isn’t a slimy lawyer waiting for me.
I told myself the entire drive over that I would remain cool—professional—and yet my stomach flips when I spot Ronan lingering over by the vegetable garden we all take turns weeding.
Today, he’s wearing black dress pants and a pale blue button-down, the collar unfastened to show off his thick, columnar neck, his sleeves rolled up.
It’s a more casual and yet decidedly sexy look.
Or maybe it has nothing to do with the clothes and it’s just him that continues to appeal.
Inhaling to steel my nerve, I hop out of my Cherokee. Ralph and the hens flock to me.
“I take it you’re the one who feeds them,” he calls out.
Aviators hide those penetrating green eyes, but I can feel them roaming my body.
I’m dressed for hauling beach equipment—clingy, black workout shorts, an old cropped tank top made from breezy cotton, my hair scooped up in a clip to keep it off my neck in the growing humidity.
There’s even a small tear in my shirt. Not clothes I would normally wear in public, but I was planning on heading straight from Gigi’s to the compound.
Why didn’t I throw on sunglasses too? At least we would be evenly matched, because all I’m thinking about is how much I wish he had kissed me back, and I’m afraid he can read it plain as day.
I clear my throat. These aren’t welcome thoughts. “No. Animals love me.”
“Snow White, huh?” That gorgeous, crooked smile creeps in. “And here I thought you were Ariel.”
“Ariel wasn’t the sea witch. That was her aunt, Ursula.” I close in, but stop short, keeping a healthy distance. That intoxicating cologne is what dragged me into a fog of stupidity last time—the scent of him. I morphed into a dog in heat.
If he notices my abrupt halt, he doesn’t let on. “I seem to remember her having supernatural powers too.”
“You sure know an awful lot about Disney movies.”
“I have a kid sister. She roped me into a lot of things.” The mention of a little sister instantly softens his hard jawline.
“Like what?” I ask.
“You know. Tea parties, makeovers, the usual.”
I think of the little kids who visit Palm Oaks. “Did she ever paint your nails?”
His chuckle resonates deep inside me, stirring need. “More than once. They were hot pink for an entire week my senior year.”
“And you went along with it.”
“Of course. I didn’t give a shit. I’m confident with my sexuality.”
Such a technical word and it sounds so erotic coming from him.
He’s flirting again, and I’m getting drawn in like a bee to honey. What is it with this guy? How does he do it? I came here intent on keeping my guard firmly in place, and yet I abandon it almost immediately when I’m in his vicinity .
I clear my throat, as if that alone can shake this unwanted attraction—a palpable surge of energy coursing through my veins as my body reacts to him, unbidden. “Why are you here?”
Ronan’s lips part, drawing my attention to them as he stalls on his words. God, I can still feel them against mine.
I shift my gaze to the ground, keeping my focus on a lurking Ralph as I wait for an answer.
But instead of words, Ronan heads for his car.
I admire his back while he collects a laptop from his back seat. “I’m approving the seasonal staffing lists today and I want you to review them in case there are other employees of yours applying that you’re not aware of.”
“Seriously?” My voice is laced with shock.
“Inside good?” Shutting his door, he starts moving toward my porch. “I don’t have a lot of time. Belinda will have my balls in a vise if I’m late.”
Having Ronan in my house was certainly not on my bingo card. “Yeah, I guess.” I pick up the pace until I fall into step beside him.
“ Rainbow Alley .” He reads out the colorful street sign Frank posted to a tree as we pass the trailers, cutting into an awkward bout of silence.
“Gigi’s idea. She named all the trailers too. We let staff rent here for cheap during the summer. Basically the cost of utilities and maintenance.”
“That’s generous.”
“Yeah, that’s Gigi. She likes having people around, though.
Always said it made us more like a family than a business.
” We pass the Pineapple Express. “That one used to be a lighter yellow. I named it Banana Rama when I was eight. We’ve gutted and repainted it since, renamed it.
Skye and Rebel stay in it every summer.” And I am rambling without cause.
I only ever do that when I’m nervous. Why does Ronan unsettle me like this ?
He must notice—he seems perceptive—and yet he doesn’t comment. “So, you grew up here.”
“I did. Me and my mom and Gigi. Then, me and Gigi.”
He nods slowly, listening but not asking prying questions. His gaze lands on the silver Airstream. “That’s different.”
“That’s Frank’s. He bought it new five years ago, I think? He’s been here for sixteen years.”
“Living in a trailer, outside your house.”
“Yeah.” I lead Ronan up the stairs, hyperaware of how short and clingy these shorts are, especially with him coming up behind me. “Why?”
“No reason.”
I punch in the code to my door and push through, leading Ronan inside. Music carries from the kitchen where I left the radio on this morning. “No, seriously. Why are you asking about Frank?”
Ronan slips off his sunglasses, giving me a full look at his handsome face. “Were you two together?”
I burst out laughing. “Me and Frank ? No. First of all, he’s a lot older than me. And, like I said, he’s family. A giant, older overprotective brother.”
“Is that why he doesn’t like me?”
“Frank doesn’t like any male who he thinks is sniffing around me, especially after what happened with Cody.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ronan’s attention scours the little beach cottage. “Colorful.”
“Yeah. Gigi likes character.” We’ve remodeled every square inch over the years.
The walls might be crisp white shiplap, but there are punches of the tropics everywhere else—from the teal kitchen cabinets and botanical wallpapered backsplash to the rattan furniture and warm wood plank floors.
There’s only one bathroom in the entire place and we refinished it in floor-to-ceiling textured cerulean tile.
“How many bedrooms? ”
“Two.” They talked about adding a third, but then my mom passed away. There was no need after that.
Ronan wanders over to the French doors. The sunlight glancing through casts light over his chiseled jaw. “You have a real piece of paradise here.”
“Yeah, I know.” I smile. “Gigi bought it years ago, back when you could get acres by the beach. She remembers walking along the shoreline for miles and not running into a soul during the offseason. That was before all the condos and gated communities started flooding the area, ruining the vibe.”
He smirks. “We live in one of those gated places on the other end of Mermaid Beach.”
“ We ?” Panic flickers inside me. Does Ronan have a girlfriend? Did I throw myself at a taken man?
“Me and Connor. He came in the other day.”
“Oh.” I sigh with relief. “The mediocre friend.”
“And annoying roommate.” Ronan regards the view out to the water again. “I can see why you would rip up a giant check for this place.”
“How do you know about that?”