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If he notices my abrupt halt, he doesn’t let on. “I seem to remember her having supernatural powers too.”
“You sure know an awful lot about Disney movies.”
“I have a kid sister. She roped me into a lot of things.” The mention of a little sister instantly softens his hard jawline.
“Like what?” I ask.
“You know. Tea parties, makeovers, the usual.”
I think of the little kids who visit Palm Oaks. “Did she ever paint your nails?”
His chuckle resonates deep inside me, stirring need. “More than once. They were hot pink for an entire week my senior year.”
“And you went along with it.”
“Of course. I didn’t give a shit. I’m confident with my sexuality.”
Such a technical word and it sounds so erotic coming from him.
He’s flirting again, and I’m getting drawn in like a bee to honey. What is it with this guy? How does he do it? I came here intent on keeping my guard firmly in place, and yet I abandon it almost immediately when I’m in his vicinity.
I clear my throat, as if that alone can shake this unwanted attraction—a palpable surge of energy coursing through my veins as my body reacts to him, unbidden. “Why are you here?”
Ronan’s lips part, drawing my attention to them as he stalls on his words. God, I can still feel them against mine.
I shift my gaze to the ground, keeping my focus on a lurking Ralph as I wait for an answer.
But instead of words, Ronan heads for his car.
I admire his back while he collects a laptop from his back seat. “I’m approving the seasonal staffing lists today and I want you to review them in case there are other employees of yours applying that you’re not aware of.”
“Seriously?” My voice is laced with shock.
“Inside good?” Shutting his door, he starts moving toward my porch. “I don’t have a lot of time. Belinda will have my balls in a vise if I’m late.”
Having Ronan in my house was certainly not on my bingo card. “Yeah, I guess.” I pick up the pace until I fall into step beside him.
“Rainbow Alley.” He reads out the colorful street sign Frank posted to a tree as we pass the trailers, cutting into an awkward bout of silence.
“Gigi’s idea. She named all the trailers too. We let staff rent here for cheap during the summer. Basically the cost of utilities and maintenance.”
“That’s generous.”
“Yeah, that’s Gigi. She likes having people around, though. Always said it made us more like a family than a business.” We pass the Pineapple Express. “That one used to be a lighter yellow. I named it Banana Rama when I was eight. We’ve gutted and repainted it since, renamed it. Skye and Rebel stay in it every summer.” And I am rambling without cause. I only ever do that when I’m nervous. Why does Ronan unsettle me like this?
He must notice—he seems perceptive—and yet he doesn’t comment. “So, you grew up here.”
“I did. Me and my mom and Gigi. Then, me and Gigi.”
He nods slowly, listening but not asking prying questions. His gaze lands on the silver Airstream. “That’s different.”
“That’s Frank’s. He bought it new five years ago, I think? He’s been here for sixteen years.”
“Living in a trailer, outside your house.”
“Yeah.” I lead Ronan up the stairs, hyperaware of how short and clingy these shorts are, especially with him coming up behind me. “Why?”
“No reason.”