Page 15 of Save Me (The Wolf Hotel Mermaid Beach #2)

Up ahead, two female staff members tend to a lush living wall.

When they note us coming, they pause their task to watch us approach with rapt interest. Or rather, watch the two men who bank my sides.

I can’t fault them for that. Ronan and Connor were both granted divine gifts in the physical department.

They could grace magazines. Hell, Ronan basically did for the Wolf wedding.

Clearly, they appeal to the staff of the hotel. But do people around here know exactly how good of friends these two are?

“Hey, Con,” the dirty blond calls out, pulling off her gloves to smooth a crease in her botanical green uniform.

“Lily.” Connor flashes a million-watt smile in greeting as his pace slows a touch.

“You having people over this weekend?” she asks, toying with her ponytail.

The brunette pretends to be focused on a succulent while stealing frequent glances at Ronan.

It sounds like these girls have been to their house. They’re both young and attractive. Did they all hook up? Am I going to be looking at every woman and wondering this ?

“Nope. Sorry, got out-of-town guests,” Ronan answers for him.

“Next week, for sure,” Connor promises.

“We’ll see.” Ronan spears him with a warning glare.

Lily shrugs. “Okay, sounds good.”

I get a cursory glance from both women then, just enough for them to assess my dress, my face, perhaps Ronan’s outstretched arm and their level of competition, before they offer a chorus of “laters”.

“Stop inviting women that work in my department home, man,” Ronan scolds as soon as they’re out of earshot. “You’re gonna get me into shit with HR.”

“Why? You’re not fucking them.”

But by his tone, it’s clear that Connor is.

“I can’t remember the brunette’s name,” he continues. “Mary? Marie? No …” He pauses, scratching his chin in thought, before he suddenly snaps his fingers. “Marni. That’s it. Damn, she was something. She does this thing with her tongue?—”

“ Dude .”

“What, I can’t even talk about it now?” Connor scoffs. “Just ’cause you’re the big kahuna around here, the top dog, the grand pooh-bah?—”

“Shut up,” Ronan mutters.

Connor leans in to mock whisper, “He used to be way more fun.”

“I can only imagine.” But the ill feeling that started to build in my stomach has vanished instantly.

“You know, he got kicked out of a bar in Miami once for getting a blow job in the middle of—oof!” His words cut off as Ronan’s hand leaves my back to reach around and shove him.

My mouth gapes.

That seems to egg Connor on. “And you wouldn’t believe what he ordered me to do tonight. His boss, Belinda, needs?—”

“I swear to fucking God , Con,” Ronan warns with a growl.

They exchange looks, and a silent conversation seems to pass over my head—literally and figuratively.

With a devilish grin, Connor finally quiets.

“So, what’s on the menu for tonight?” I ask, steering the conversation away from Connor’s needling and stories of Ronan’s past sexcapades.

“No clue. I was told I have to be here, so I’m here. I’m sure it’ll be good, though.” Ronan’s fingers trace a circle on my back before his palm settles there again.

I stifle my sigh of contentment.

“Fuck, I hope it’s not like that weird shit they had at the wedding,” Connor complains. “What was it called again? Those flying fish eggs.”

Ronan chuckles. “Tobiko.”

“They had that weird crunchy popping texture.” Connor’s face morphs with disgust. “I’ll try anything once, but, man, I’d rather drink a glass full of cum than ever put those in my mouth again.”

I grimace.

“Yeah, see?” He points at my face. “That’s me, but with tobiko.”

“Did I say he cleans up well?” Ronan shakes his head at his friend as we swing right and out of a set of door s

“Wow.” It slips out from my lips unbidden.

“Right?” Ronan nods in agreement as we take in the hotel’s outdoor bar that overlooks the beach and the gulf waters. I’ve seen it from the other side, while walking along the shoreline, but the vista from this angle is decadent.

The color scheme is sand and gold, which only amplifies the idyllic view of the fiery sunset descending into the water horizon.

Palm trees sway above while an expanse of stonework allows for various levels, maximizing the opportunity for a good view.

Front and center is a square bar with a roof above and seating all around to accommodate at least two dozen patrons.

Twenty or so well-dressed people mill around, chattering in small groups, while a server in a blush-colored uniform weaves around with a platter. I see what Ronan means now, about my dress matching the hotel’s color scheme. Not quite, but close.

“Sliders. Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Connor charges away, leaving Ronan and me alone.

“He seems very food motivated,” I note as we watch him carve a path through people.

“Yeah, I had a golden retriever just like him when I was a kid. His name was Pickles. You couldn’t trust him with food on the counter, and he humped a lot of legs.” Ronan shifts his stance to face me. “You seem on edge tonight.”

“Do I?” I shouldn’t be surprised. I have a lot going on—this surprise pregnancy, crashing my archenemy’s dinner party, dating a guy who enjoys casual threesomes with his best friend. “Wouldn’t you be if you were about to meet Henry Wolf for the first time?”

He studies me for a few beats. “You sure that’s all it is?” Ronan is too perceptive, far more than I expected. But I should have. I’ve had him pegged all wrong since the moment he stepped into the Sea Witch.

I decide to flip it around. “Why? What do you think I’m on edge about?”

He steps in closer, his fingertips toying with the gauzy material in my dress. “Does Connor make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” The truth is he doesn’t, despite his boisterous personality and invasion of personal space. There is something oddly comfortable about being around them.

“Is it because of what I told you about Connor yesterday?”

“You mean your penchant for threesomes?” No point being vague.

A hint of a smile curves his lips. “I don’t know if I’d call it a penchant.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“More like a drunken ‘sure, fuck it, why not’ situation.”

“Funny, my drunken ‘sure, fuck it, why not’ situations usually involve ordering extra meat on my pizza.”

“Doesn’t sound too different.” Ronan smirks.

“Oh my God.” My face flushes as we both share a laugh at the double entendre I didn’t intend.

But I can’t let it go yet. “And how often do you find yourself in that sort of situation?” Because I need to know what I’m getting myself into, if I’m setting myself up for a guy who’s not ready to give up that lifestyle.

His humor slides off as a somberness takes over. “Over a year now. Since Abbi and Henry’s wedding.”

“At a wedding ? I mean, how’d it happen?” How do these two friends end up in these compromising positions?

“You want details?” he asks skeptically.

“I don’t know,” I giggle nervously. “Maybe?” Is it curiosity about this man or a need to prepare for pitfalls, because I’m quickly seeing how a few drinks around them could lead to all kinds of unexpected things.

Ronan falters. “I don’t share specifics. It feels wrong.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Ryan did warn that Ronan doesn’t kiss and tell. Still, an unexpected wave of disappointment washes over me that he won’t be open with me.

Ronan cocks his head as he studies me for a few beats. “But you’re the type that needs to know, aren’t you?”

I swallow. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He pauses, his lips pursed. “It wasn’t a?—”

“Hello, hello! Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar voice cuts in.

I spin on my heels and find Jeremy in a peach-colored button-down and beige dress pants, holding a tray of champagne flutes.

“Hey!” My smile is genuine, even if his timing is lousy.

Jeremy nods at Ronan. “Sir, good to see you again. ”

“Oh fuck, don’t ‘sir’ me, man. Seriously.”

Jeremy chuckles. “Okay, got it.”

“You’re working here tonight?” I ask. Obviously, but it’s a Tuesday. The deal Ronan negotiated was weekends only.

Jeremy shrugs. “They needed an extra body last-minute, and I was finished my cruise shift. Missed you out on the water again today.”

“Yeah, I had some appointments and other things. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Good. Don’t expect a great review for Tiki One today.” Jeremy widens his eyes with meaning. “I thought Frank was going to toss one of the guys over the rail.”

I groan. “Can’t wait to hear that story.” Though as bad as it is for business, it’s always entertaining hearing Frank’s version of events.

Jeremy holds out his tray. “I know this isn’t Sapporo, but?—”

“Yes, please.” I don’t let him finish before I snatch a glass and take a sizeable gulp.

Only when my mouth is full of champagne do I remember that I can’t drink it. At least, not until I make a decision.

Panic erupts inside me, and I do the only thing I can think of—I spit the champagne back into my glass.

Jeremy and Ronan wear matching frowns.

“It’s gone bad,” I croak, the only excuse I can come up with for my unladylike action, and a terrible one at that.

“Really?” Jeremy lifts a glass, sniffs it, then samples it. “Tastes good to me. More than good. It’s Cristal.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I’m not a champagne kind of girl,” I lie, setting my glass down on a nearby table. Dammit, when will I ever get a chance to drink Cristal again? And how am I going to get through tonight, let alone the next nine months, without a single drink?

“No worries, I’ll get you your beer,” Jeremy says.

“No!”

“Uh … okay?” His gaze narrows with an unspoken question

I adjust my tone. “A tall glass of water for now would be great. My head’s been hurting on and off all day.”

“You got it. Comin’ right up.” Jeremy strolls away, pausing to hand out champagne to a couple in his path.

If Ronan thinks anything of my odd behavior, he doesn’t let on, too busy surveying the crowd.