by Nina West
I don’t answer.
“How long were you two together?”
“Why?”
He chuckles. “You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Why would I trust you?” I turn to take in those haunting green eyes of his, amusement sparkling in them. “I know what you want. I’ve seen firsthand what you want, so don’t sit here and pretend to care while you look for my weak spots.”
“I never said I cared, and don’t worry—” A wry smile touches his lips. “—I can already peg you inside and out, including all your weak spots.”
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear what Ronan thinks of me, and yet I can’t stop myself from provoking him. “I doubt that.”
He smirks as if hearing the challenge. Pausing to take a long sip of his beer, he unleashes his thoughts on me. “You’ve been a nice girl and a good daughter all your life. You use your manners, you look for ways to help people, you’re constantly looking for approval from everyone around you, always listening to what your parents and teachers and church ask you to do, never wanting to piss people off. The thought of being away from your family for an entire summer was never something you would have imagined.
“But then something happened—something to do with that guy on the phone, I’m guessing—and you decided to run as far away as you could to get away from it. That’s why you’re in Alaska. Am I right so far?” He breaks to take a puff of his cigarette.
And I struggle to keep my mouth from hanging open.
“What I can’t figure out is if you were a virgin before you let Aspen in you, or not. I’m guessing whatever you had with the guy back home was PG-13 or straight lights-off, missionary style.”
I keep my gaze on the ducks, unwilling to give him any answers with my eyes, even as my cheeks burn. How does he know about Michael?
“Oh yeah. What’d you think was going to come up a second after you left the dining table? You thought the Aussie was going to keep your little secret?” Ronan chuckles and it makes me want to punch him. “Then again, it wouldn’t make sense if you gave it up to Aspen after holding out on someone special back home. I mean, I know Aspen was hung up on you; he wouldn’t stop talking about you since he met you at Wolf’s. But you’re not the type to just run into a guy, go back to his place and fuck him, no matter how upset you are over walking in on me with your roommates. How’d you like watching that, by the way?”
“I.... You’re depraved.” I wonder what kind of home life he has. It can’t be good. His parents are probably criminals and drug addicts.
He smirks. “You think that now. But when you stop being ashamed of what you want, you’ll see that there’s more than one kind of friendship.”
“That won’t be happening.” I move to get up.
“I saw the look in your eyes, Abbi. You can keep lying to yourself but don’t bother lying to me. You were more than just curious. There’s no way seeing that is what made you so upset. Something else—or someone—did something to you. To hurt you bad.”
I don’t like the edge in Ronan’s voice. Like there’s a secret lingering on the tip of his tongue.
He takes another long puff of his cigarette. “Must have been something, working with a guy like Wolf day in, day out.”
And there it is.
My stomach drops instantly.
Ronan’s not fishing for information. He actually knows. Or strongly suspects.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the panic, biting my tongue to keep me from begging him not to voice his suspicions. Waiting for him to add on his price for silence. Something sick and corrupt, no doubt.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to say a word about it. To anyone.”
Liar. This is horrible. Will Ronan be my undoing?
“Look at me, red.”
When I don’t respond, rough fingers land on my chin and lead my head toward him more gently than I’d believe Ronan capable. Finally I dare face his eyes.
“I’m not going to say a word about it.”
I won’t acknowledge his promise, because acknowledging it would mean he’s right, and maybe he’s still unsure. Maybe he’s like Scott, trying to trick me into admitting what he can’t otherwise prove.
“Man, he did a real number on you, didn’t he?”
They. They did a real number on me. I’m pretty sure I’m going to swear off all men—handsome or not—from now on.
Especially this one.
“Live and learn, right?” I’m learning. Boy, am I learning. I climb to my feet. “You’ve got your spot back.” My footfalls make a hollow sound along the dock as I retreat to shore.
“Hey.” His back is still to me. “I’m not as bad as you think I am. We’ll be friends one day.” All traces of humor are gone from his voice.
“I’m not so sure. Remember, I’ve seen what you do to your friends.”
He turns to peer over his shoulder at me. “Give yourself some time. You’ll learn to trust again.”
“Maybe.”
Ronan’s right. He did do a real number on me.
And I’m not talking about Jed.
Chapter Nineteen
July
“Abbi!”
I glance up in time to see Autumn hop over a row of small boxwoods.
“Look!” She holds up a stack of magazines, but then pulls it away, eyeing my dirty gardening gloves with a wrinkled nose.
With an eye roll, I pull them off and brush the streak of soil on my thumb onto my t-shirt. I peeled off my sweatshirt and jacket about half an hour ago; the late-afternoon sun too hot for layers. “What am I looking at?”
“Articles about Wolf Cove.”
I flip through the first one, until I come to a full-page spread of Henry, his piercing blue eyes staring out at me. I instinctively take a deep, calming breath, as I always do whenever the topic of “Mr. Wolf” so much as touches anyone’s lips.
I remember these pictures. They’re the ones Hachiro, the tiny and inappropriate Japanese photographer, took of Henry. It was during those very brief few days of bliss, after I discovered his attraction to me and before I learned what a cruel bastard he can be. “Where’d you get this?”
“In the lobby. The hotel shipped a box to us.”
“Huh.... Great pics.” I flip through them, feigning disinterest, even as I secretly plot an excuse to get to the lobby and steal myself a copy.
It’s been six weeks since Henry left. I haven’t spoken to him once. Haven’t heard a word from him. All that I know, I hear either through Tillie’s passion for gossip or from what’s posted online.
The official handover of Wolf Hotels from William Wolf to Henry happened immediately following the grand opening here, as Henry said it would. The newspapers reported it around the same time that they divulged William Wolf’s dire health situation as potentially one of the reasons for the accelerated change in ownership.
Henry’s not just officially a billionaire anymore. He’s now a billionaire many times over and one of the most eligible bachelors in the world, as this magazine so aptly calls out.
I don’t think most wealthy business guys get this kind of media attention, but most don’t look like Henry. Plus, he’s really been putting himself out there as of late, spotted at movie premieres and celebrity-type events with this model or that actress on his arm. Tillie has nicknamed him Bruce Wayne, because he’s now flamboyantly acting like the playboy that everyone has apparently known him to be.
I try to let it not bother me. Every day, I try. I keep telling myself that it’ll get easier, that I’ll clue in like I did about Jed, and truly stop caring. After six weeks, the only thing getting easier is being able to compartmentalize the pain.
“And look at this other one.” Completely clueless to my personal struggle, Autumn shakes the Luxury Travel magazine in my face. “Remember that evil woman? Well, she wrote a rave review of Wolf Cove. Said it was one of the best experiences of her life.”
I’ll bet.
“Since this article dropped last w
eek, our reservations desk has been going nonstop. Next year is nearly sold out. Can you believe it?”
“That’s great.” I’m not good with faking amusement, and it shows.
“Hey, red! You almost done with those? I’ve got another one for you and we need to get them in before we can break for the day.” Ronan steps over the bushes in his work boots and sets another flat of summer annuals in front of me to plant.
I could kiss him right now for interrupting this conversation.
“I’ll let you go. See you in the lodge later?” Autumn says, collecting the magazines from me. I know she’s going to tuck them away in her cubby. Unlike me, she and most other women here still live in fantasyland as it relates to their CEO and hotel chain owner.
“For a bit, yeah.”
Autumn flashes a polite smile at Ronan, but I know it’s fake. She doesn’t much like him. She doesn’t know the real him. She only knows the version that I knew early on, and I didn’t much like him then, either.
But things have changed.
“What’d she want?” Ronan leans down to grab the old trays as I pull my gloves back on. While I love the days when I get to garden, I’m covered from head to toe in dirt, and I have only three uniforms to last me through the week.
“Nothing. Just showing me some magazines.”
“About Wolf?”
I hesitate. “Yeah.” While Ronan knows—or strongly suspects—my secret, he’s kept his word and never mentioned it once. In fact, we’ve stayed far away from any topic involving Henry.
He sighs under his breath, but I think I hear him murmur, “He’s an idiot” as he walks away, his cargo pants hugging his impressive backside well.
It makes me smile. I know Ronan doesn’t harbor a secret crush on me, for no other reason than I just know. But I also know he’d gladly sleep with me if I suggested it. That’s something else I just know.
Because I’ve gotten to know both Ronan and Connor well over the past six weeks.
Every day is the same—I roll out of bed, throw on my uniform, and spend the day sweating and slaving and shrugging off their inappropriate jokes. We work long hours and I’m sore by the time I stagger in to the lodge for dinner, usually followed by a few drinks, until warmth begins spreading through my limbs and I can forget for just a while that Henry is gone and hasn’t bothered to call. Not even once. Then I repeat it all the next day.
Ronan, Connor, and I work together most days, paired up to do trash runs, firewood collection, and a lot of gardening, me planting and pruning while those two do the heavy lifting. The odd day that we’re not together, I don’t have nearly as much fun.
Plus, we eat most of our meals together, and on our days off, we usually grab a ferry to Homer with the other guys from the crew.
Really, the only time I’m not with Ronan and Connor is when I’m showering or sleeping, and they’ve both joked plenty about how we may as well do those things together too.
We’ve formed an odd friendship of sorts, where there is an underlying and unspoken physical attraction—how can there not be when the guys looks like Connor and Ronan do—but we’re all happy just hanging out and laughing while we work.
All day, almost every day. That’s a lot of time to spend with two guys. You get to see beyond the facade.
Like, for example, Connor loves to toss casual sexual innuendos at me tirelessly, but when someone else in the crew besides him or Ronan tries to join in on the teasing, their hackles instantly rise.
And, while Connor impersonates the true player who won’t commit to one girl, he actually hasn’t messed around with anyone other than Tillie in the almost two months since they started seeing each other. Or whatever it is they’re doing, that he won’t officially acknowledge.
On the other hand, Ronan is the quiet player. Everyone knows what happened between Katie, Rachel, and him, but I’m pretty sure that’s because of Katie and Rachel. He may like to kiss, but he’s not one to tell. I’ve caught one or two comments about something that had happened the night before at the lodge with a girl, but it’s never outright disrespectful.
And they’ve both sort of taken to watching out for me. Connor always saves a seat in the lodge next to him, and Ronan always brings me a second coffee in the morning, because one is never enough. They both know my affinity for sweets, and they take turns surprising me with a chocolate bar or a freshly baked cookie.
It’s kind of sweet.
And, thought I doubt they realize it, it has been my saving grace while I wait for my broken, angry, untrusting heart to heal.
~ ~ ~
Ronan and I are pulling up to the gate with the garden tools just as Connor pulls in, slamming his truck door shut. Darryl had him doing something with the electric fencing today and he’s scowling. It’s a rare sight. “You guys ready to go? I could use a drink.”
“Yeah. How was your day?”
“Fine.” He lets out a heavy sigh and then, throwing his arm around me, he pulls me into his sweaty, dirty side.
I push hard against him, prying myself away, fake-gasping. “God! You need a shower!”
Connor lifts his arm up and smells himself. “Dude, you’re right. I do. So do you. Let’s help each other get clean.”
“No.”
“I’m serious.” His eyes rake over my body as if to prove a point.
“So am I.” I smack him in the chest. “No!”
“You’re missing out.” He speeds up to join the other guys. That’s how the crew always travels—in packs.
“What’s up with him today?”
Ronan hesitates. He’s not one for talking about other people. “Him and Tillie got into it last night in the lodge, and whatever that was, it’s officially over.”
“Really? I had no idea.” She’s my roommate but to be honest, since I started working with the guys, there’s been a noticeable rift forming between us. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten so close to them. Autumn thinks it’s because she’s jealous. Tillie does get very jealous, very easily, and she’s not the typical southern belle who’s good at hiding her bitterness behind a fake smile while she talks behind your back.
“Yeah. She wanted a label, and he didn’t. So now....” Ronan rubs the muscles in his tattooed forearm. “Tonight should be interesting because he’s going to want to get laid.”
“Shit.” Something else that I never used to do pre-crew and now do almost constantly is cuss.
But this night may deserve it because I have a feeling I know who will get an extra heavy dose of Connor’s attention.
~ ~ ~
“Drink up!” Connor shoves another shot into my hand.
I lick the salt sprinkled on my wrist and tip the glass back, anticipating the tequila burn before it even hits my throat. It’s even worse than the first time. I cringe as I reach for the slice of lime in Connor’s hand. But he raises it above his head, a sly grin on his face. “Open up.”
I’m desperate for that lime and he knows it. I eagerly part my lips and he slides the slice between them, the soft pad of his thumb lingering on my bottom lip. His heated gaze is locked on my mouth as I bite down, the sour lime combating the aftertaste of the tequila. “That’s a good girl. Now suck hard.”
I punch him in the arm for good measure, but he just chuckles, reaching over his head to yank his t-shirt off, revealing that ripped body of his. Every guy in the crew has a body like that, to one degree or another. Even my body has hardened, my arms taut and shapely, my abs more defined.
“Alright. On that note, I’m out.” I always leave—to shower and get a decent night’s sleep—around the time that the debauchery begins. Which, by Connor’s level of intoxication, was a few minutes ago. I don’t know how these guys do it day in day out and still manage to get their butts out of bed for a 7:00 a.m. start. As it is tonight, I’ve only stayed this long because I wanted to make sure Connor was truly okay with breaking things off with Tillie.
Tomorrow is going to be a rough morning.
“No way.
You need to stay and protect me from making a fool of myself.” Connor slings an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into him, until I’m pressed up against his hot skin. “Come on. Pick any spot on my body and give it a good lick. It’s a helluva lot more fun than licking yourself. Well,” His gaze drops to my mouth, and his voice drops a few octaves along with it. “I enjoy watching you lick yourself, but I’d rather you lick me. And I won’t expect you to call me in the morning. We’ll never even talk about it,” Connor taunts with a grin.
I roll my eyes, but there’s a point in the back of my mind that wonders if maybe I should. It would be very easy to fall for his charm, especially if I was drunk. He’s attractive, and it’d be nice to feel something again. Physically, anyway. I know I wouldn’t have to worry about developing real feelings for him.
I’m pretty sure Henry’s broken that part of me.
“It’s late and I still need to shower.” I punch him in the stomach as I squirm away, earning a fake grunt of pain.
But he holds on tight. “Please?” Earnest eyes beg me. He holds a shot up.
“Come on, red. Just one,” Ronan goads.
“You’re not helping,” I mutter.
“Sure I am. I’m helping him.” He nods toward his partner in crime.
I heave a sigh. “If I do one, will you leave me alone?”
“Promise. For tonight, anyway.” Connor grins mischievously. “Tomorrow’s a brand-new day.”
“Give me that.” I reach for the shot.
“No way. First. Pick a spot to lick.”
“Fine. Your forearm.”
“What?” Connor’s face scrunches up. “That’s not sexy.”
“I’m not trying to be sexy with you!” I giggle nervously, feeling curious eyes on us from all directions. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. If Tillie hears about it and gets upset....
“Ronan, pick a spot for the Abbs.” Another nickname that Connor has started using on me.
“Stomach.” No hesitation.
I roll my eyes; though, given it’s Ronan, it could have been a lot worse. And Connor’s stomach, well... I’m staring at it right now and it’s perfect. Everyone around here talks about how sculpted it is, with his eight-pack of ridges and that V-shaped cut of his pelvis.
