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He smirks. “I assumed you already had one.”
“I do, but it’s for Cody.” And Henry Wolf, but admitting that would not be smart.
Ronan opens his mouth but falters. “Why’d you end things with him? The cheating?”
“No, I didn’t know about that until after. Let’s just say he was more interested in having my money than in having me as a wife.”
“Your property. Yeah, that’s got to be worth a bit.”
“Enough that your not-friend boss tried buying it from me five different times.” And that’s only my house. I also own the Sea Witch lot and the storage lot. There were two other properties that Gigi acquired over the years—she’s also been a shrewd woman with her money—but we sold those to pay for her place at Palm Oaks.
“Five times.” Ronan whistles. “He is nothing if not persistent.” He shifts back to his pad. “Who are the other employees?”
I bite my thumbnail as I think. Is this right? It’s bad enough that I came here but now I’m sabotaging their chances of a job. Frank is right—if they don’t want to work for the Sea Witch, who am I to stop them from leaving?
“How much is the high season worth to you?” he asks.
“It’s seventy to eighty percent of my annual sales,” I admit.
“Exactly.” Ronan peers up at me from beneath thick dark lashes, studying me while I continue to waffle over my reluctance. “Okay, how about this—Idon’t want to hire people who would royally screw over their current employer. We’re making offers as soon as possible and training starts next week. You’re not getting two weeks’ notice from these guys. So, give me some names. I get final say for my departments. I’ll see what I can do.”
Is his guy saying he’ll pass on good employees for me, a.k.a. the crazy rooster commune lady? My hackles rise. “Why are you helping me?”
His brow quirks. “I don’t understand.”
“I crashed your job fair and now you’re helping me.” There must be a catch. There always is. “What do you want from me in return?”
“Man, you are cynical.” A soft, deep chuckle slips out. “Can’t I just be a good guy?”
“No.” Beautiful men can’t also be good guys. They don’t exist, it’s that simple. “What is this going to cost me?”
“Who says I expect anything?”
“Youdid. ‘We could help each other out’?” I air-quote those words.
“Right, I said that.” He nods slowly. “What are you offering?”
“What do you want?” I ask hesitantly.
Steely eyes trace my nose, my cheeks, my lips, and then a devilish, small smile breaks free, one that makes my pulse spike. He knows he has me over a proverbial barrel. Or his desk. I inhale sharply with the mental image that stirs, even as I acknowledge that it would be utterly vile of Ronan to use sex as a bargaining chip. It would also prove my beautiful-man theory.
Would he at least keep it semi-classy and buy me dinner first, or would he just unbutton his pants right here? The office doors are frosted. Do they lock?—
“Sloane?”
“Huh?” Oh my God, I’ve been gaping at him.
“The signs have to come down.”
“The signs?”That, I hadn’t expected, but I should have. “Was this your plan all along when you brought me in here?”
“No. I actually was trying to avoid a disaster out there.”
For some inexplicable reason, I believe him.
“You take down all the signs and then I’ll steer the managers toward different hires.”
The Sea Witch’s survival or my petty art project, as Ronan called it. “Frank would be ecstatic to see them gone.” He keeps suggesting I find a new way to channel my rage. That, and therapy.