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“The bro workin’ at the hotel.”
My heart skips a beat. “Ronan?”
“That one. He said to call him ASAP. Something work-related. Says you have his number but you probably tossed it, so he gave it to me again.”
“No, I’ve still got it.” Tucked away in my purse. “Iwasgoing to throw it out.”
“Yeah, sure you were. Anyway, he said you’d want to call him, like,now. He was at the coffee shop this morning too.”
“Really?” A mixture of curiosity and worry stirs in my stomach. What’s this about? Is Ronan going to tell me he can’t keep up his end of our deal?
“The guy seems to be working extra hard tonotget into your pants. You know, because I vetoed him, remember? Give Gigi a kiss for me.” The line goes dead before I can tell him to mind his own business.
I fish out Ronan’s business card and punch in the number he scrawled on the back.
He answers on the second ring, his voice somehow raspier with a basic, “Hey.”
“Frank told me you’re looking for me?”
“Sea Witch?”
“How many other people do you call and leave cryptic messages for?” And why are my cheeks burning with embarrassment—again—over the fact that I threw myself at him and he shut me down?
“In general, or just today?” Amusement taints his voice. He sounds more like the flirtatious version sprawled out on the beach.
But my hormones will not sway me today. “What’s up?”
“Gotta run something by you, but it needs to be in the next hour. You home?”
“No.” I falter, stealing a glance at Gigi. She’s cleaning up all evidence of the scone, burying the wrapper and crumbs in the bottom of her wastebasket. “But I can be in about twenty minutes.” I need to change, anyway.
“’Kay. I’ll meet you at your place.”
“Wait, what do you?—”
The call disconnects before I finish my question.
“I’ve got to go. It’s something to do with work.” I think. Nerves flutter in my stomach at the idea of seeing Ronan again.
“That’s okay. You go on and do what you’ve gotta do. I’ve gotta prep for my big windfall!” She fishes a folded wad of cash from inside her bra. Gigi has picked up gambling since she moved in here. I’m not sure if I should be worried.
With a kiss on her forehead—and a second one from Frank—I hurry out the door.
A sleek andsporty black BMW is parked in front of my house when I pull in. It reminds me of all the times Henry Wolf’s lackey would roll up my driveway in his luxury sedan to dangle a fat check in our faces. Only this time it isn’t a slimy lawyer waiting for me.
I told myself the entire drive over that I would remain cool—professional—and yet my stomach flips when I spot Ronan lingering over by the vegetable garden we all take turns weeding. Today, he’s wearing black dress pants and a pale blue button-down, the collar unfastened to show off his thick, columnar neck, his sleeves rolled up. It’s a more casual and yet decidedly sexy look. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the clothes and it’s justhimthat continues to appeal.
Inhaling to steel my nerve, I hop out of my Cherokee. Ralph and the hens flock to me.
“I take it you’re the one who feeds them,” he calls out. Aviators hide those penetrating green eyes, but I can feel them roaming my body. I’m dressed for hauling beach equipment—clingy, black workout shorts, an old cropped tank top made from breezy cotton, my hair scooped up in a clip to keep it off my neck in the growing humidity. There’s even a small tear in my shirt. Not clothes I would normally wear in public, but Iwas planning on heading straight from Gigi’s to the compound.
Why didn’t I throw on sunglasses too? At least we would be evenly matched, because all I’m thinking about is how much I wish he had kissed me back, and I’m afraid he can read it plain as day.
I clear my throat. These aren’t welcome thoughts. “No. Animals love me.”
“Snow White, huh?” That gorgeous, crooked smile creeps in. “And here I thought you were Ariel.”
“Ariel wasn’t the sea witch. That was her aunt, Ursula.” I close in, but stop short, keeping a healthy distance. That intoxicating cologne is what dragged me into a fog of stupidity last time—the scent of him. I morphed into a dog in heat.