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)
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.
18. Ronan
Ryan certainly didn’t tidy while she was here.
“What were you up to?” I muse, scanning my room for evidence. I knew messing around with her carefully organized belongings would get a reaction out of her.
My nightstand drawer is cracked open. With curiosity, I pull it all the way.
Tasha smiles up at me.
Collecting the framed picture, I study the two faces within for a long moment. That was a good day. We’d only been together for a year or so, but I distinctly remember thinking she was the one. We’d even talked about marriage once but agreed we weren’t in a rush—she’s a few years younger than I am—and things were perfect the way they were.
A mix of hurt, disappointment, and anger swells inside me. We were perfect, and she threw it all away for random dick.
This picture is the only tangible thing of her I brought with me. It’s time I toss it and be done with mourning. I’m not ready yet, though.
Gently setting the picture back, face down, I slide the drawer shut. At least she’s out of sight.
And out of mind for today. I’ve barely thought of Tasha, too preoccupied with my late-night visitor and how much I enjoyed it. Ryan and I may not be friends, but we’ve become a hell of a lot more than strangers.
Truthfully, I’d rather stay home tonight and see if I might get another visit, but Connor’s already tapped me as his wingman and resisting might make him suspicious.
Peeling off my socks, I head for the shower.
19. Ryan
Ididn’t think I was going to fall asleep, but I must have drifted off, because I’m awakened after 1:00 a.m. by the sound of female laughter in the living room.
The sharp edge of jealousy pricks me. Ronan brought someone home. Of course he did. But this is my fault, I remind myself. I went to him. He was open and honest. He doesn’t owe me anything.
I close the book I fell asleep to and set it on my nightstand, shut off my lamp, and then curl up into a ball and fight the painful disappointment I didn’t expect to feel.
I guess the plus side is that I’m not thinking about David right now.
Someone uses the bathroom and then footfalls trail into Ronan’s room. The door closes, and a moment later, the bed creaks. The whole process is much quieter and less dramatic than last Friday.
I stare up at the white ceiling with knots in my stomach, waiting for the moaning to start, reminding myself that Ronan is an ass and a pig, and that I don’t want him, I don’t like him, and I brought this on myself.
It’s an hour before I drift off.
Right around the time it dawns on me that Ronan is alone.
20. Ryan
Isqueeze through the elevator doors as they’re closing, forcing them to open again.