RONAN

by Nina West

  RONAN

  A Wolf Cove Novella

  By Nina West

  Copyright 2016 Nina West

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design by Nina West

  Published by Nina West

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Wolf Bait Excerpt

  About The Author

  RONAN

  Chapter 1

  “What’d I tell you?” Connor stretches his sinewy arms out to either side, grinning wide at the crowds milling along the boardwalk. There must be thousands of people. Tens of thousands, even. Everyone says nights in Miami are crazy. The street festival would only up the mayhem.

  His bright blue eyes rake over three girls that stroll by, their matching black shorts like second skins hugging their perfectly round cheeks. They smile, they wink, their made-up eyes flash from Connor to me—to my sleeve of ink, to my face, where they linger, not even pretending to play coy.

  “All right. Time to move,” Connor announces.

  “Give me a sec to finish this.” I puff on my Marlboro.

  He frowns. “I need a solid wingman, so ease up on the chain smoking. That may have worked for you in Indianapolis, but a lot of chicks don’t dig it down here.”

  I chuckle. “Don’t worry about chicks digging me.” The real problem is that I’m having a hard time being interested in any of them. I’d rather just lean against this stucco wall and smoke my brains out than go to all the effort of searching for a girl, striking up a conversation, and pretending I care what she has to say, all while waiting for her to inhale enough drinks to make her hands get bold.

  Why can’t they make cigarettes to replace a good fuck? I mean, sure, a smoke is a nice way to cap it all off when you’ve blown your load and you’re sprawled out on your back, sweaty and panting. But when you’re alone—because your girlfriend of four years decided you needed “time apart” and is probably riding someone else’s dick already—and you’re not in the mood for the energy it takes to pick up, it sure would be nice to just pull a smoke out of your pocket and get your release that way.

  It would be effortless.

  Peaceful.

  Uncomplicated.

  I can’t say any of this to my new roommate Connor, though. I only met him two hours ago, fresh off the plane. He gave me just enough time to drop my luggage in my room and take a piss, and then he said we were going out to “pop my Miami cherry.” I can’t help but feel like this is some sort of vetting process, a test to see if he and I can be friends. And I can already tell he’s the type to tell everyone I’m a pussy if I don’t go along with it.

  I butt out my cigarette. “Lead the way, Casanova.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~~

  I light up a smoke. “Better luck tomorrow night.”

  “I fucking hope so,” Connor grumbles, slamming the taxi door and earning a curse from the driver. “I was so sure I had that redhead.”

  “And I was so sure you were gonna get your skull crushed in by her boyfriend.” An angry-looking beast who could pass for a professional wrestler, bulging arms, veiny trunk of a neck and all.

  “You weren’t exactly a big help.”

  “Sorry, man. I haven’t slept much. The guys at work had a little going-away party for me last night.” At Racey’s, a low-class strip club in downtown Indianapolis, where the drinks are overpriced and the girls are extra sleazy.

  We stumble past a guy in the narrow alleyway taking a piss against the wall, the stench of booze and fresh urine assaulting my nostrils.

  “Don’t worry. It’s a good area. Mostly a young crowd,” Connor explains, climbing the steps to the front door of our condo building. It’s not high-end, but it’s definitely not the slums. There are six identical buildings lined up in a row—all white stucco with red tile roofs, clean pathways lined by shrubs that get bare-bones landscaping attention. Lots of palm trees. The best part, though, is that we’re a five-minute drive to the beach and our jobs at the Wolf Miami hotel. That was a selling point for me when I was looking for a place to live, seeing as I don’t want to buy a car.

  “So, what do you think about Miami so far?” Connor punches in the passcode to get into the main entrance.

  “Definitely warmer than back home.” It was snowing when I kissed my mom’s worried cheek good-bye and walked out the front door, my duffle bag slung over my shoulder.

  “Enjoy it now. You’ll be sweating your balls off in the summer. Still, it’s worth it. I’ve been down here for six years now. Love it.” He leads my travel-weary body toward the elevator. “And our team at Wolf is pretty kick-ass. Good bunch of guys.”

  “Great, because I left an awesome team back home.” For two years, I’ve worked in outdoor maintenance at the Wolf in Indianapolis, doing landscaping and other grounds work for the luxury hotel chain. Not exactly a glamorous job, but it pays well and there are certain perks, like discounts to rent rooms at any of the Wolf locations around the world. Not that I could afford to, anyway.

  “Why’d you leave, anyway?”

  I hesitate. “Needed a change, is all.”

  “A chick?”

  He’s more perceptive than he lets on. “Yeah. A chick.” The girl of my dreams. The girl I’m still madly in love with, even though she pulverized my damn heart.

  Connor leans back and closes his eyes, his gelled blond hair leaving smudges against the mirrored elevator wall. “Don’t worry. You’ll get enough beautiful Miami pussy to forget that one. You’re gonna fit in great with the guys here.”

  And I meet them in... five hours, based on my watch.

  The plan was to fly in tonight—Thursday—and get settled so I was ready for a Monday morning start. But they called me yesterday, asking me to start tomorrow. I agreed.

  I probably shouldn’t have drunk so much tonight. I can already tell Connor’s going to be a bad influence—not that I need much help. But at least we’re going to get along well. Thank God, seeing as I have to live and work with him.

  I had very few requirements when I answered the housing ad on the online Wolf employee bulletin board. Are there four walls and a bed? Check. Bathroom? Check. Cheap rent? Check. Connor asked me where I’d be working, I said maintenance, and he told me the room was mine. Just like that, a minute into the conversation. No reference checks, no “I’ll call you back.” That probably would have raised some red flags with other people, but I didn’t give a shit.

  I follow Connor along the bright hallway of the fourth floor to our condo on the end.

  “Shit.” Connor drops his keys twice before managing to get the door unlocked, only to drop them again once inside. They land on the doormat, on a pair of women’s gold sandals. “Why is she home?” he mutters, more to himself.

  “Why is who home?”

  “Ryan.”

  I can’t tell if Connor is a bit dense or just hammered. “Who’s Ryan?”

  Connor tosses his keys on the counter, causing a loud clatter. “My sister.”

  I stop dead. “Your sister lives here?”

  “Yeah.” C
onnor frowns. “Didn’t I tell you?”

  “No.” And the ad neglected mention of a third person.

  “Oh. Well, yeah, my sister lives with us. She has the room next to you.” Connor stumbles over to the fridge to pull out two Gatorades, tossing one to me. “She said she was staying at her boyfriend’s tonight. Don’t know what happened there.” He chugs half the bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why? You got a problem with my sister?”

  “Nah, man. It just would have been nice to know that I was living with two people instead of one.”

  He waves me off. “Whatever. She’s easy to live with. She’s always at work, or in class, or at the library. She’s never here. And she’s super nice. Cute. You know, in that smart girl way. You guys share the bathroom but you’ll be heading to work before her, so it’s not a big deal. Make sure you put the toilet seat down and you’ll be fine.”

  I shake my head. “Is that all?”

  “Uh... yeah?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to threaten me and tell me not to try and get into her pants?”

  Connor bursts out with hearty laughter. “Yeah, go ahead and try. I doubt her boyfriend can get into her pants half the time.”

  I frown at his back as he staggers down the hall toward his room on the opposite side of the condo.

  Chapter 2

  They may as well make alarms to buzz like a hundred jackhammers drilling into concrete, because that’s basically what it feels like against my skull right now.

  I groan, wishing I’d been smarter about the beer intake last night. But I wasn’t and I must have been hitting the snooze button because now I have exactly ten minutes to get ready before we have to leave for work.

  I kick off the blanket I snagged from the living room—I didn’t think to bring any sheets and there was literally nothing in this room except a naked mattress on a frame, a nightstand, alarm clock, and a dresser—and haul my weary body out of bed. Making for the door with my toiletry kit tucked under my arm and my eyes half-closed, I narrowly avoid doing a face plant as I trip over the heap of clothes from last night. “Fuck,” I mutter, stumbling out my door and toward the bathroom.

  A small body plows right into me.

  The girl stumbles back into the wall, her headphones and water bottle tumbling from her grasp to hit the floor. She looks like she just came back from a run, her fair skin flushed, her T-shirt drenched in sweat, her brown hair pulled back into a damp, matted ponytail.

  “Sorry,” I offer as she reaches down to collect her things, well aware that my briefs can’t possibly hide my morning wood. At least I’m wearing briefs. I normally sleep naked.

  “Ronan! Hurry up or I’ll leave you here!” Connor hollers from the kitchen. He’s already dressed in Wolf Hotels maintenance crew garb—beige cargo work pants, a forest green collared shirt, and steel-toe boots.

  When I turn back, the girl has already ducked past me and disappeared into her room without giving me so much as a glimpse of her face.

  “That was Ryan,” Connor offers.

  “Yeah, figured as much.” I sigh, heading for the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in five.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  When I used the bathroom last night, there were no hints of a female. But now that I’m in the shower, there’s no missing the evidence—colorful bottles and razors line the shelves, and a giant pink puffy thing dangles from the showerhead.

  Stepping under the water stream, I wrestle with the showerhead to raise it to normal height, accidentally knocking several of her shampoo bottles to the tub floor. The giant pink puff ball ends up there too, along with one of her razors.

  I don’t have time to be picking up all this shit right now. I don’t even have time to shave the stubble from my jaw, and the Wolf employee code requires a stubble-free face. Hopefully my supervisor won’t be strict about it. It’s not like we interact with the guests, anyway.

  Standing under the steady stream of hot water, I attempt to scrub my brain awake. My hair is buzzed so short, I don’t really need to shampoo, but the minty scent usually wakes me up. A minute of soaping down with my basic Irish Spring bar and then I’m slapping the tap and climbing out.

  Shit. I forgot to pack a bath towel too.

  Towels... sheets... a pillow.... I better make a list for tonight.

  I open the narrow closet behind the door and find a small stack of towels on the second shelf. Below it is a shelf of various creams and bottles and boxes for monthly female issues, all lined up and facing out. Organized to the point of obsessiveness.

  So Ryan likes things neat. I should probably remember that, if we’re sharing a bathroom. Something else to think about... later.

  I grab a towel and wipe down quickly. Then, cinching it around my hips with one hand, I leave the bathroom.

  And plow into Ryan again, this time on her way out of her room toward the kitchen.

  “I’m... sorry,” she mutters, taking a step back, giving me an opportunity to get a good look at her face, still sweaty, flushed, and disheveled from her run. She looks nothing like Connor. Her eyes are large and round and hazel-colored, her cheekbones are high, her nose small and buttonish. Kind of average-looking, to be honest. Probably not a girl I’d take a second glance at, but by no means unattractive. She’s short, maybe five foot two, if I had to guess, the top of her head meeting my collarbone. She’s compact. One of those little body types that’s curvy but proportionate to her height, but if she’s not careful about her diet and exercise, the extra weight will be hard to hide.

  As it stands now, though, she’s got a decent body.

  “Dude! Hurry up!” Connor hollers.

  Right. “Hey, I’m Ronan.”

  She stares up at my face for five long seconds, her expression unreadable, before her gaze drops. “That’s my towel.”

  I open my mouth to explain—and apologize—when she cuts me off, outrage twisting her face. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t just move in here and take whatever you want. That’s not how this works!”

  Whoa. “I’ll wash it for you tonight.”

  She throws a glare toward the kitchen. “Did you even vet this Neanderthal before you let him move in here?

  Huh?

  “Relax, Ry,” Connor says around a sip of his coffee, seemingly unbothered by his sister’s explosive reaction.

  “Relax? How can I relax when you’re making me share a bathroom with one of the Screw Crew! I’m probably going to contract gonorrhea from the shower!”

  I give Connor a bewildered look. Am I just imagining things or did Connor say his sister was super nice?

  He merely shrugs in response, the small smile telling me he finds this amusing.

  I don’t. And I have exactly two minutes to get dressed before I get left behind—because I believe Connor’s the type to do that. I don’t have time to stand here and be yelled at by my new pint-sized roommate. And if she’s going to be hurling insults at me....

  I release my grip and let the towel drop to the floor. “You want your towel? There you go. Thanks for letting me borrow it until I can get to the store.”

  Whatever Ryan was going to say gets lost on the tip of her tongue, her eyes widening as they take in my naked body.

  Behind me, Connor bellows with laughter.

  Her cheeks flaming, Ryan spins and darts back into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  “Screw Crew?”

  “She doesn’t have the best opinion of our work colleagues. And you didn’t exactly prove otherwise with that stunt there.”

  Fair enough. If the Miami guys are anything like the crew back home, they’ve got well-earned reputations for their conquests of the housekeeping staff. At least Connor doesn’t seem to be pissed at me for flashing my junk. “I thought you said she was nice.”

  “You didn’t think that was nice?”

  Jackass. “When exactly did you tell her I’d be moving in?”

  “When she left for her morning jog. So, about twenty minutes
ago.”

  I turn to glare at Connor.

  Still grinning, he nods toward my bedroom. “Come on. We gotta go.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Of course we’re gonna work together!” Connor exclaims, as if any idea otherwise would be crazy.

  Charlie, my new burly supervisor, no doubt strong but with a thick layer of cushion to disguise muscle, frowns up at me from behind his desk in the maintenance office. “You sure you want to put up with him all day? It’s already bad enough that you have to live with him.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “All right. You two are stuck with each other then. You’re on trash this week.” His gray eyes roll over my stubbled jaw. “Is this the beginning of some new look? Or were you two just out too late last night to shave?”

  Fuck. Not fifteen minutes in and I’m already getting grilled. “Which answer do you want?”

  He smirks. “The one that means I don’t have to cite you for breaking the conduct code. Look, I’ll give you a pass today because you just came in from the Midwest and they’re more lax up there. But make sure you come in clean-shaven from now on. The hipster thing wouldn’t suit you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We’re almost out the door when Charlie hollers, “And trash duty on the beach does not take four hours, fellas.”

  Connor gives him an innocent look that’s as fake as a three-dollar bill. “Never, boss. Two hours, tops.”

  “Uh-huh.” Charlie buries his nose in his paperwork again, not buying the act for a second, but not reprimanding Connor further. I get the impression Connor is one of those guys who gets away with a lot of things in life that he shouldn’t get away with.

  I’m not one of those guys. “Okay. So, where do we start? Parking lot? Kitchen?” If Miami’s anything like the Wolf back in Indianapolis, management is extra vigilant about keeping those areas clear of rodent-attracting debris.

  Connor checks his watch. “If we hurry, we’ll catch the last half of the women’s volleyball practice on the beach.” He sighs. “And let me tell you, it’s a beautiful sight.”