6. Ronan #2
The moment stretched between Kozue and Sloane, charged with the same electric awareness that had just passed between Ronan and her. The triad mate bond hummed its approval, recognizing the connection forming between all three of them.
This is really happening, he realized with a mixture of wonder and terror. She's connecting with both of us.
Minutes later, as he and Sloane left the dining area, the familiar weight of his responsibilities seemed lighter somehow, as if sharing breakfast with her and Kozue had settled something restless in him.
For once, he'd actually allowed himself to sit down and enjoy a meal.
The simple act of lingering over pancakes and watching Sloane laugh had filled him with a contentment he hadn't experienced in years.
When they reached his office, where morning sunlight streamed through the windows and illuminated the organized chaos of his workspace, Ronan felt suddenly exposed.
Financial reports covered one corner of his desk, guest feedback forms occupied another, and his laptop displayed seventeen unread emails that would normally have his immediate attention.
He crossed to the corner cupboard where he kept his supplies and opened the door to retrieve his toolbox that resided on the bottom shelf.
When he bent down to retrieve it, his navy henley pulled taut across his shoulders and back, the cotton fabric outlining muscles earned through years of physical labor and combat training.
And behind him, Sloane's breath hitched.
His wolf preened at the sound, recognizing the subtle shift in her scent that indicated appreciation for what she was seeing. When he straightened and turned back toward her, toolbox in hand, he couldn't quite suppress the smile that tugged at his lips.
Sloane stood near his desk, her cheeks carrying the faintest hint of pink that suggested she knew exactly what she'd been caught doing.
Her simple white t-shirt and jeans should have looked ordinary, but on her they became something else entirely.
The cotton fabric skimmed her curves, hinting at the feminine softness beneath while doing nothing to hide the lean muscle that spoke of her strength.
Beautiful and dangerous.
"Ready to tackle that leaky faucet?" he asked, his voice coming out rougher than intended.
Sloane nodded. "Lead the way."
They left his office and made their way through the lodge's main corridor toward the main staircase, and Ronan found himself genuinely enjoying the simple act of walking beside her.
She could make this place her home, his wolf whispered with certainty. We could give her safety and protection permanently.
The thought sent longing through him so intense it was almost painful.
He wanted to offer her everything—security, stability, a place where she'd never have to run from anything again.
But he couldn't say any of that yet. Not when she was still settling in, still processing whatever danger had brought her to their door.
They finally reached the second floor and turned down the corridor toward Room 223. The hallway stretched before them, lined with doors to guest suites, each one representing visitors who'd found their way to Hale Lodge seeking rest and renewal.
"Are you feeling comfortable here?" he asked as they walked, genuinely wanting to know how she was adjusting.
Sloane glanced at him, something soft flickering in her hazel eyes. "Yes, this place is very warm and welcoming. So different from the city life I came from."
"Good. I'm glad you feel at home here."
The moment the word 'home' left his lips, he realized his mistake. Sloane's expression shifted subtly, a guardedness creeping back into her features like shutters closing over windows. Her shoulders tensed, and she looked away from him toward the corridor ahead.
Too much too soon, his wolf growled with frustration. She doesn't trust safety yet.
Of course she didn't. Foster care had taught her that homes were temporary, that safety could disappear without warning. No wonder the word 'home' made her uncomfortable—she'd probably learned not to expect such luxuries.
They reached Room 223, and Ronan pulled his keycard from his pocket, grateful for the distraction.
The electronic lock beeped softly as it disengaged, and he pushed the door open to reveal an empty suite.
Fresh morning light filled the space through large windows that framed mountain views, and the absence of personal belongings indicated the guests were likely downstairs enjoying breakfast.
"Judy and Todd must be in the dining room," he said, stepping into the suite. "We'll have uninterrupted time to work."
The guest bathroom was located just off the main living area, its door standing slightly ajar.
Ronan pushed it open fully and immediately felt the space shrink around them.
What had seemed like a reasonably sized bathroom suddenly felt intimate and confining with both of them inside it, and the vanity, toilet, and shower stall left little room for maneuvering.
His wolf stirred restlessly, responding to Sloane's proximity with demands he absolutely could not entertain. Fantasies flashed through his mind unbidden—pressing her against the vanity, lifting her onto the counter, claiming her mouth with his own.
Stop, he commanded himself sharply. You're here to fix a faucet, not seduce your mate.