Page 120 of Save Me
“Not as much as I’ve heard about you,” he counters.
“Well, pull up a chair, and let’s compare notes, then.” She gestures toward a nearby stool. “Hope youbrought a scone of your own because I don’t share. Not unless Nurse Ratched shows up, and then this is all yours.”
I can barely contain my excitement as I reach forward and collect his hand. “He will, but first, Gigi, there’s something we want to tell you.”
October
“Frank,can you bring the ladder around back when you have a sec?” I holler, knowing he can hear me from his trailer’s stoop where he sits, scattering corn for the hens before work.
“For what?”
“Just bring it, please?” The shed is behind Rainbow Alley, and the ladder is long and awkward.
Heavy footfalls sound as he trudges around to find me standing at the foot of the porch.
“Where’s the ladder?”
“Where it belongs until I know why a pregnant woman needs a ladder to do yoga,” he throws back, nodding to the mat stretched out on the sandy ground.
I point up. “Because that siding looks loose.” The hurricane that came through west of Mermaid Beach last week brought plenty of rain and wind with it. The guys have been cleaning up downed branches around the property for days.
He follows my aim. “Okay, so thenI’llgo up and takea look at it when I’m back later. Or get Ronan’s ass up. Does he know what you’re doing out here?”
“He went for a jog.” I add in a sullen tone, “And I don’t have to run everything by him. Or you.”
“Stay offthe ladder.”
“Fine.”
His brown eyes drag over the turquoise walls of the house, the rich color noticeably faded. “You should start thinking about when you want us to paint. I know we usually do it in the spring, but next one’s going to be hectic.”
“I know.” I smooth my hand over my growing belly. I’m due in February, and it’ll be all I can manage to keep up with preparing for high season with a newborn. Nothing will get done around here. “I was thinking maybe next month? Storm season will be over, and it’s always quiet then.” It’s already quiet now. Skye and Rebel left for their last year of college in August, and Lara stepped up in a big way to allow me a break. So big that I’m trying to find a way to keep her on even part-time. The beach chair crew has mostly packed up and left, leaving Rolland to manage the few chair rentals until Frank and Ronan haul everything into storage. Even Ron is gone. The inflatable banana boat was a hit and paid for itselfmanytimes over, but the kids are back at school. Plus, Bailey has her USCG Captain’s license so she can cover the odd last-minute weekend booking.
I officially let Jeremy go to his full-time bartending position at Wolf last week, but he’s already talking about how he can swing both jobs next summer. We’ll see if he feels the same way when the time comes.
Bailey’s turned into a fan favorite, her five-star reviews nearly canceling out the bad ones Frank’s earned us. Her seasonal contract with us is coming to an end too, but she’s asked if she could stay in the trailer off-season, and I’ve agreed. I love having her around, and I’ll need every extra pair of hands in the coming months.
Ragged breathing draws our attention to the beach, where Ronan saunters up, bare-chested and skin glistening, his hat on backward as he chugs the last of his water bottle.
My body responds instantly, craving his touch, even though I had it not an hour ago.
“Hey,” he says through pants, his eyes drifting over my little black yoga shorts and matching crop top. “What are you two doing?”
“She asked me to bring the ladder over so she can look at loose siding,” Frank announces.
“Tattletale!” I accuse.
“What?” Ronan groans with frustration. “Come on. I thought we agreed, no ladders for now.”
“I was just going to?—”
Bailey’s howl of laughter cuts in to my poor excuse. “Play with the bull and you get its horns!”
“Just wait untilyoulose a bet, Bails,” Connor warns, always one to hand out a nickname.
“That’s Admiral to you.”
The sound of gravel crunching is the only warning we get before Connor trudges past in nothing but a paisley floral swim thong and his running shoes, muttering to us, “No big deal.”
