Page 121 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“I’ll throw it in the washer later. For now, you’ll just have to stink of booze.”

He looked down at his damp, black T-shirt and up at me. He tried to look censuring, but the smile gave it away. “I work at a bar. Trust me, I’ve smelled worse.”

“You always smell good to me.” I sat up, holding my glass aloft, and kissed him.

He cradled my head in his free hand for a moment after the kiss and stared at me like I’d appeared magically before him. I’d gone my entire life without ever having a man look at me like that. I hadn’t thought such a thing was possible outside romantic movies.

“Ronan.”

“Come here.” He pulled me onto his lap, easing me against him, my thighs tight around his hips.

“Be careful,” I said. “That wound hasn’t completely healed.”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Probably as healed as it’s going to get.” He ran his hands up my thighs. “Hope you dig guys with scars.”

“Yes, I do, and funny you should mention it. I was thinking about that very thing just last night in the garden room.”

“Is that right?” He stroked up my back, urging me closer, little by little, until my lips were against his. I luxuriated in the feel of his mouth and tongue on mine. Reveled in the heat of his body everywhere it touched mine. “Interested in a foreplay massage?”

I laughed, remembering our conversation about women not liking it when men inserted their “man parts” into a massage unless we were forewarned.

“Will you be bringing your penis into this massage?”

“Guaranteed. Consider yourself warned.” He massaged the dimples on either side of my lower spine, and I shivered in anticipation.

“In that case, yes. I would like a massage. A nice, long one."

“Excellent phrasing, Lennox.”

“Mmm.” I raked my nails down his chest and tugged at the drawstring of his sweats. “I thought so, Willi?—"

My burner phone rang.

Ronan and I froze. We looked at each other. Only four people had that number, and I couldn’t imagine a good reason any of them would use it. I could, however, imagine a few bad ones.

I climbed off his lap and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Betty? It’s Aurora Pallás. Is Ronan there?”

“Sure. Of course. Let me get him.” I held the phone out. “It’s your sister. How’d you get her the number?”

Not that I minded. In fact, I’d suggested it.

“Through a secure email we share.” He took the phone and held it to his ear. “Rory? Everything okay?”

Whatever she said must’ve eased his mind, because his voice calmed and his shoulders dropped.

“She’s okay?”

He mouthed, “She’s not with Floyd.”

Ronan started telling his sister what had happened. It was obvious they had some catching up to do, so I picked up my glass and gestured to my broken door. “I’m going to check on something.”

Ronan nodded, planted a kiss on my forehead. “Be careful.”

I hadn’t planned to take a wine walk, but now that I was outside, it felt like a great idea. I peeked through the walls of the garden room at Cecil and Fennel, who were playing with little Autry. She appeared to be hiding from them under a blanket on the chaise lounge and they appeared to be pretending not to see the black fluffy tail sticking out.

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