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I punch in the code to my door and push through, leading Ronan inside. Music carries from the kitchen where I left the radio on this morning. “No, seriously. Why are you asking about Frank?”
Ronan slips off his sunglasses, giving me a full look at his handsome face. “Were you two together?”
I burst out laughing. “Me andFrank? No. First of all, he’sa lotolder than me. And, like I said, he’s family. A giant, older overprotective brother.”
“Is that why he doesn’t like me?”
“Frank doesn’t like any male who he thinks is sniffing around me, especially after what happened with Cody.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ronan’s attention scours the little beach cottage. “Colorful.”
“Yeah. Gigi likes character.” We’ve remodeled every square inch over the years. The walls might be crisp white shiplap, but there are punches of the tropics everywhere else—from the teal kitchen cabinets and botanical wallpapered backsplash to the rattan furniture and warm wood plank floors. There’s only one bathroom in the entire place and we refinished it in floor-to-ceiling textured cerulean tile.
“How many bedrooms?”
“Two.” They talked about adding a third, but then my mom passed away. There was no need after that.
Ronan wanders over to the French doors. The sunlight glancing through casts light over his chiseled jaw. “You have a real piece of paradise here.”
“Yeah, I know.” I smile. “Gigi bought it years ago, back when you could get acres by the beach. She remembers walking along the shoreline for miles and not running into a soul during the offseason. That was before all the condos and gated communities started flooding the area, ruining the vibe.”
He smirks. “We live in one of those gated places on the other end of Mermaid Beach.”
“We?” Panic flickers inside me. Does Ronan have a girlfriend? Did I throw myself at a taken man?
“Me and Connor. He came in the other day.”
“Oh.” I sigh with relief. “The mediocre friend.”
“And annoying roommate.” Ronan regards the view out to the water again. “I can see why you would rip up a giant check for this place.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Belinda,” he says simply, wandering back to set his laptop on the granite counter. With a few clicks, he has a spreadsheet open. “Here’s everyone we’re hiring under my department. I also got hold of the other director’s list so you can scan that one too. I don’t have time to go through everyone’s résumés to see if they’ve listed Sea Witch, so let me know if we’re poaching any more of your staff.” He slides onto one of the high-back stools and nudges the computer over slightly.
“Isn’t this, like, confidential company information?” I muse, edging in, acutely aware of his splayed thighs as he leans back in the seat, resting an elbow on the counter, the tattoos on his corded forearm on display.
I doubt a guy could radiate masculinity more if he tried—and nothing about Ronan says he’s trying.
“It is. I could get in a lot of trouble for showing you.”
“Then whyareyou showing me?”
His forehead furrows. “Contrary to what you think, we don’t want to screw over local businesses. At least, I don’t.”
“And are you going around toallthe local businesses, showing them this list?”
“What do you think, Sloane?” He studies me, not his screen, an intent expression taking over his face.
God, I love his gravelly voice, the way he says my name.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think where you’re concerned,” I admit. Except that he wants to keep this professional. I take a deep breath and, before I embarrass myself—again—force my focus to the spreadsheet, scrolling through the names. I stall on Will and Mick.
“They’ve been disapproved.” Ronan taps the screen on the column labeled Director’s Approval heading.Nois marked beside their names. “They were near the top too. The list is ranked.”
And now they’re crossed off because Ronan is doing me a favor. The tinge of guilt flares. “Is this wrong?”
“No.” He doesn’t miss a beat, and I appreciate his certainty. It helps quell some of my anxiety.