Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Yeah, good question! I busy myself with the ice trough, pretending not to listen as Ronan’s friend berates him. But at least I’m not the only one asking. And if I’m not the only one, then maybe he hasn’t been avoiding me.
Ronan pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know where I’ve been. Chained to my fucking desk, trying to figure shit out before Wolf fires my ass for incompetence.”
“As if. Red would never let him.”
Who is Red? Besides someone who has control over his billionaire boss.
His wife.
Of course. It has to be. She has striking long red hair.
“You’re close with Henry Wolf’s wife?” I blurt, interrupting their little domestic spat.
“You could say that.” Connor snorts, throwing a thumb Ronan’s way. “This one was her bridesmaid.”
“Man of honor,” Ronan corrects dryly.
“You were in her wedding party.” It all makes sense now. He’s not friends with Henry Wolf. He’s friends—good friends, clearly—with Abbi Wolf.
Ronan peers at me curiously while Connor slaps Solo cups in a row on the counter like a petulant child mid tantrum. “We’re all having one.” He cracks the bottle of tequila. “Even you, Cap.”
My head shake is firm. “Sorry, I’d lose my charter license, and I can’t afford that. I’m already down one boat as it is.”
“You haven’t found anyone to replace AJ yet?” Ronan asks, his tone suddenly somber.
“Nope. A few prospects, but no good ones.”
“Wait a minute.” Connor’s eyebrows arch. “AJ AJ?”
Ronan’s nod is almost imperceptible.
Connor’s attention swings to me. “He worked here?”
“He was one of my captains until he quit on me. Why? How do you know him?”
“I’m his supervisor at Wolf. You know, because of that extra responsibility I didn’t ask for?” A sharp glare is thrown Ronan’s way. “He’s about to know the toilets and dumpster real well.” Connor rests his elbows on the counter and levels Ronan with a steady look. “And how do you know him again?”
“I told you. I don’t … directly.”
Connor studies his friend for a lengthy moment. “Chained to your desk the whole time, huh?” There’s accusation in his tone.
Ronan’s lips twitch, and I sense an entire conversation hidden within that brief exchange.
“Motherfucker,” Connor mutters, pouring a round of shots. He picks up a lemon. “What do you say to me doing a shot off you, Cap?”
“I say …” I falter, not expecting such a direct request. “It’s a little early in the day.” And it’s been a decade since I’ve let strangers lick me in the name of tequila.
“Yeah? What about Ronan? Would you let him?” His blue eyes are playful, knowing.
I’d let him do that and more, I silently admit, as I feel my cheeks burn. And I think Connor has somehow figured that out too, which means Ronan never told him about us. Should I be insulted or pleased? “Still much too early.”
“Later, then.” Connor winks and, collecting five Solo cups, drops his brawny body into the water with a gasp. He cuts through the shallows toward the group with powerful thighs.
“Is he always like that?” I watch with a mixture of repulsion and wonder as Connor dips down to draw a line with his tongue across Katie’s cleavage before downing his tequila. The rest of the group cheers as they do their round.
“Only while he’s conscious.” Ronan rubs his face with his palms.
Without his sunglasses on, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. A twinge of sympathy stirs for him. “Sounds like you’ve been really busy.” Still … too busy to text me? I don’t buy it.
“It’s my first day off since I got to Mermaid Beach. I wasn’t expecting house guests and a party. I was planning on sleeping.” He pauses. “And coming to see you.”
“Sure, you were.” I pretend to survey the surrounding scene.
“Look, I’m in a weird place in my life, and I—”
“You comin’ in, Casanova?” Connor hollers as he cuts through the water toward the beige thong-clad beauty.
Ronan groans. “If it means you’ll leave me alone for five minutes.” Whatever he was about to tell me is lost with the interruption.
“He really can’t handle being away from you.”
“I could probably count the days we’ve been apart since I met him two years ago.”
“Wow. Not gonna lie, that’s kind of weird. Do you two do anything separately?” The question is thrown out casually, without thought, but the moment the words are out of my mouth, an answer flutters into my mind.
There is one thing they don’t do together.
By the smirk on Ronan’s face, I’d guess he’s thinking the same.
“I better get this over with.” Ronan stands, empties his pockets, tossing his wallet and phone on the counter.
My stomach clenches as a text pops up on his screen from someone named Tasha, but I’m quickly distracted from my jealousy as Ronan peels off his shirt. He’s as perfect as he was in my kitchen, and I can’t help getting caught on the V-cut of his pelvis as I remember what he looked like—and felt like—pressed up against me, thrusting into me.