Page 77 of Save Me
“We’ll see how the day goes.” Ronan casts a lazysalute before falling into step beside me, his hand settling on the small of my back. “So, you hired her?”
“Yeah, and I think she’s going to be great.” We sat on two beach chairs in the shade outside the coffee shop while Bailey filled in details about every aspect of her life, including her honorable discharge after multiple deployments to the Middle East. In my head, I’d hired her within the first five minutes. I hope my gut isn’t wrong. “Things around here feel like they’re getting back to normal.” Except for the whole pregnancy thing, of course.
Ronan’s face pinches with discontent.
I reach up to squeeze his bicep. “Don’t worry,Tiki Oneis still yours if you want it.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He chuckles, but the sound is off.
“How was work today?”
“Weird.” He tells me about his golf morning and his meetings as we climb the steep staircase, side by side. By the time we reach the top, I’m laughing.
“You have to take her up on it. When else are you gonna get to goduck herding?” How is that even a thing?
“I don’t think that’s why she wants me there.” He smiles wryly.
“Right.” While I may be drooling over Ronan every time he walks into a room, so isevery other woman, it seems, including my merry band of drunken afternoon sailors. “And you’re supposed to do what with these clients?”
“Make them feel important so they’ll spend money with us.”
“By chartering a fishing boat.” It’s a struggle not to sound jealous and accusatory.
“It’s her thing.” We stop in front of his BMW, the pristine black paint gleaming in the sunlight. “Things are gonna go late tonight, but I’ll text you when I’m done.” He pulls me in close. “Wait up for me.”
“Sure.” It’s not even a question that he’s coming over. I think that’s what I love most about Ronan—he doesn’t play games. And concern over what his boss thinks about us together? Completely gone, out the window. “How late, though? I might fall asleep.” I’ve been unusually tired these last few days. I can’t tell if it’s on account of my overactive hormones or suddenly feverish sex life.
“Then send me the code to your door, and I’ll wake you up.”
A thrill explodes inside me at the thought of the many ways this man might do that. “You’re basically asking for a key to my house? Wow, that’s presumptuous.”
“You’re kidding, right? Everyone in your commune has the code to your house. Fucking Ralph probably knows how to peck the digits.”
I burst out laughing, earning a rare grin. “Did he shit on your car last night?”
“Has he failed me? Why do you think it’s so clean?” Ronan’s hand slides down over my cutoffs. “Why are you wearing these?”
“Why am I wearing shorts?”
“Yeah.” He palms my left cheek with a squeeze. “They’re obstructive.”
“Because the last time I captained without shorts, I got manhandled.”
“You were with a bunch of deviants.” His hand slips under the hem and up between my thighs, working beneath my bikini bottoms.
I gasp as a long finger pushes inside.
A clubby beat begins playing from Ronan’s pocket, stalling his explicit touch. He pauses, listening, and then shakes his head.
“What is that?”
“A song from a movie. It’s got to be Belinda calling. Connor’s been playing with my ringtones again. I need to change my passcode.” With a heavy sigh, he says, “’Kay, Gotta go. See you later.” His touch vanishes, earning my grumble as he leans in to kiss me. It’s over quickly, though, and then he’s climbing into his car, his phone pressed to his ear.
I watch as the sleek car pulls out of our parking lot, already aching for tonight.
“So …” Skye hangs out the guest registration window.
“Sloane’s got a boyfriend,”Rebel says in a singsong voice as Skye describes this afternoon’s parting. Thankfully, we were angled away from her, so she didn’t get the full view. The view she did get was apparently plenty steamy.
