RONAN (The Wolf Hotel)
RONAN: Chapter 8

I press my ear against the door, listening for the soft pad of his bare feet. His alarm went off a few minutes ago. It’s an awful, blaring sound. I’m usually out for my daily jog when he wakes up, so I haven’t had the displeasure of hearing it until now.

But I skipped my jog this morning.

I was too afraid to face him.

“Dude! Hurry up, we’ve gotta leave soon.”

I roll my eyes at my brother even as my heart races. He says the same thing to Ronan every day.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan mumbles, his gravelly voice so coarse this morning, I can feel it grating on my insides.

“You look rough. Didn’t you sleep?”

“I guess not.” A pause. “Where’s your sister?”

“Probably out for a jog, burning off her anger issues. Why?”

My jaw clenches. Don’t you dare say a word about last night, you son of a bitch.

Maybe I’m crazy but I sense Ronan glancing over his shoulder at my closed door. I jump back involuntarily, afraid he’ll know I’m hiding back here like a chickenshit, listening.

“No reason. I’ll be ready in fifteen.” A moment later, the bathroom door shuts.

I can’t believe I slept with him. I’m not that girl. I just lost my mind temporarily. I was blinded by my heartache, by his sexual innuendos, and that gorgeous face and that intoxicatingly dark smile.

Worse, I’m still waiting for the regret to kick in.

~ ~ ~ ~

“You’ll get that staff report to me by noon?” Geraldine peers down at me from behind her glasses.

“Sure thing.”

With a nod, she moves on to the next line on her to-do list.

As far as bosses go, she’s tolerable. A bit of a micromanager, but I guess that comes with the territory of working with things like payroll, where missing small details—a check box, an input cell—can mean someone doesn’t get paid. In a giant company like Wolf, if you miss a paycheck, you have to wait another two weeks for your next one. That can really fuck up someone’s life.

“Hey.” Jean peeks around the corner of my cube. She’s in the one next to me. “Did you know that Ronan is going to Alaska?”

My stomach spasms, hearing that name.

Was I stupid to believe he’d keep quiet about last night? It seemed like a no-brainer at the time, that Ronan wouldn’t be in a rush to tell Connor. It’s not like Connor has ever given any indication that he’d care if we slept together. But I just can’t see how “Hey, I screwed your sister last night” would slide smoothly out of Ronan’s mouth.

“I heard them talking about it, yeah.”

Jean heaves a sigh. “It’s going to be so boring here this summer.”

I roll my eyes. She’s been in love with my brother since the first day the idiot strolled in. She’s far from the only one, too. I guess I can’t blame them. We were complete strangers when we met two years ago, and I noticed his bright blue eyes and dimpled smile right away. No one can honestly claim he isn’t handsome. But the fact that we’re blood related quickly diminished his appeal.

As does the fact that he’s an idiot and a pig. He’d nail every last girl in Housekeeping if he could, a fact that everyone knows and still doesn’t seem to sway them from their adoration of him.

The fawning over Ronan hasn’t been much better. The moment he left this office last week, on his first day, I saw the wide-eyed looks and “holy fucks” mouthed between the female staff who’d caught a glimpse. The furtive questions followed quickly. What did you mean when you said he was a nudist? What does he look like naked?

How big is his you-know-what?

You’d think he were some sort of god.

Though, after last night, I might tend to agree with that.

I swallow the rising bubble of nerves as a memory hits me, of him kneeling in front of me, gripping my thighs tight, thrusting into me mercilessly. I can still feel him with each step I take.

Just the thought of him stirs a throb between my legs.

Giving my head a shake, I push all thoughts of Ronan aside and focus on my work.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey, Tatum!”

My back stiffens at the sound of my brother’s booming voice. I’d like more than anything to pretend I’m not here, but he’s just going to keep calling until people glare at me.

With a reluctant groan, I stand.

My stomach tightens at the sight of Ronan standing next to him, watching me approach, a small smile curving his full lips. I wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips?

I lock my gaze on Connor. Does he know? Has Ronan told him?

If he has, and Connor announces it in here—I wouldn’t put it past him—I will stab him with the pencil in my grip.

“What do you want?” It comes out harsher than I intend. That’s just the way my anxiety reveals itself—I turn into a bitch.

And, boy, am I anxious right now.

Connor leans over the desk, his massive body dusty and sweaty from being outside in the heat. “You didn’t meet us out back for lunch today.”

“I never do.” I’ve intentionally kept myself busy over the lunch hour, eating at my desk or running errands, not wanting to risk an awkward situation where my teammates get together and David is there. With her.

“You did on Monday.”

“Yeah, well… just the once.” My voice cracks over those words. Ronan basically said that to me last night. Just this once.

Connor shrugs. “We missed you.”

I keep my eyes locked on my brother, searching for some hint that he knows. I see nothing. And he’s not good at keeping secrets. Especially not one like that.

Ronan hasn’t told him.

A small sigh of relief escapes me, even as the other side of the coin shows itself. Does Ronan regret last night? Did he wake up this morning, dreading seeing me? Did he even enjoy it?

“Why are you really here?”

“Jean asked Ronan to come down and sign some things for Alaska.”

“And here they are.” She sidles up next to me, laying out a few forms on the counter in front of her, giggling nervously. “I feel like we just did this.”

“We just did,” Ronan murmurs. I quietly watch him take the pen in those strong, calloused fingers—the same fingers that were deep inside me last night—and begin filling in the boxes. His penmanship is surprisingly neat.

Connor’s phone rings in his pocket. “I gotta take this. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“All right. I’ll be done in a minute.”

Connor ducks out.

I can’t help myself. “Can you survive without my brother next to you for that long?”

“Hey, Jean, I heard there might be an extra copy of the Wolf Alaska brochure here somewhere. Would you mind checking?” Ronan smoothly asks, leveling her with those eyes.

“Maybe in the mail room? Let me check. Give me a sec.” She scampers off, in a rush to please.

Leaving me alone with him.

I turn to go back to my desk.

“Stop.”

The single word stalls my legs. “What?”

He makes me wait for an answer, taking his time as he signs and dates the bottom of the form. I use that time to take in his sleeve of tattoos. I’ve caught nothing more than glimpses so far—of an angel, a woman’s face, an old-fashioned scale, a skull. The designs are both beautiful and raw. And so masculine. It must have taken weeks to complete that.

I’ve never found tattoos at all appealing. Until now.

Finally, I can’t stand the silence. “You know you don’t need the pamphlet. You can get all the Alaska info on the website.”

“My mom asked me to send it. She likes things in print.”

Ugh. What is it about him saying that that makes him even hotter? Bastard.

The tiniest smile curls his lips. “No jog this morning?”

So he knows I was hiding in my room. “I wasn’t up to it.”

“Avoiding someone.”

“Just didn’t feel like it,” I lie.

“Hmm….” He lays the pen down and slides the paperwork forward, the side of his thumb grazing mine as his piercing green eyes finally lift to settle on me. “Didn’t take you for a chickenshit.”

“I’m not.” I swallow. I so am. I fight the urge to pull away. Not because I don’t want to touch him, because I so badly do. I glance around to make sure no one’s watching. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” I whisper.

He leans in a touch, dropping his voice to match mine. “Did you honestly think I’d tell Connor that I fucked his sister last night?”

A shiver skates down my spine. “It’s not like he’d care.”

“Oh, yeah he would.”

“Well… remember your promise.”

“Actually, what’s it worth to you for me to keep it?” He smiles wickedly, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Because I’d love to watch you give me a—”

“The last one!” Jean speeds back, waving the colorful pamphlet in her hand.

I take a step back, breaking contact.

He shifts that smile to Jean. “Great. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” She begins fumbling with her hair, a sign that she’s nervous. I’m not surprised. That smile would disarm most people. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nope. Thanks.” His gaze shifts back to me. “Class tonight, Ryan?”

“As usual.” When I enrolled in the master’s program last fall, I had this crazy idea that it would be manageable. Work full time, go to class four evenings a week, use my weekend for assignments… easy enough. Clearly I was delusional. Thank God it’s Thursday, and my last night of class for the week.

“I guess I’ll see you at home, then.”

“Maybe.” I try for casual indifference. It comes out strangled.

Ronan swaggers out the door, chuckling.

~ ~ ~ ~

I hit the button for the fourth floor and let my backpack fall to the floor. It lands with a thud, and then topples. My textbooks spill out.

“Fuck,” I mutter, stooping to pick them up just as someone stops the elevator doors from closing.

“I’m sorry. I hate it when people jump into a closing elevator, too,” a guy offers, out of breath, reaching to help me.

I look up to replace a man smiling at me. He obviously just came from the gym or a jog because his shorts and T-shirt are drenched with sweat and his blond hair hangs limp around his forehead.

I stand. “I wasn’t cursing you. I was cursing these.”

His blue eyes take in the textbook in his grip. “Economic Policy. My favorite.”

“You’re lying, right?”

“If I say that I’m not, will you think less of me?” He grins. “I majored in Economics in Cornell.”

Cornell. Only one of the top schools in the country. This guy must be smart. And I’ve never seen him before. “Did you just move in?”

“About a month ago.” He pauses for a second, then thrusts his hand out. “I’m Kyle.”

I fumble to free myself and take it. “Ryan.”

The elevator doors open to the fourth floor. Kyle holds the door for me and waits for me to step out. He’s definitely a gentleman.

“It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Maybe I’ll see you around the building.”

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the end of the hall, equal parts excited and panicked.

Will Ronan be there?

It’s Thursday. Connor always goes out on Thursdays, and the two of them are attached at the hip so I have to assume Ronan’s going, too. They could already be gone, drinking and picking up women. Will Ronan pick up tonight?

Is he going to bring her home?

I close my eyes against the dread, even as I remind myself that he told me outright it was just for last night. He’s going to do whatever he wants with whoever he wants tonight.

I’m so dumb.

Why did I think sleeping with him was a good idea?

By the time I walk into our condo, I’ve worked my stomach into knots.

Thankfully, no one’s home. They must have already gone out for the night. Now I get to sit here, my guts twisted with all kinds of terrible ideas. Seriously, this is why I can’t have casual sex.

With a groan, I throw my bag to the floor and head for the fridge, even though my appetite is dead.

“What the….” I frown as I take in my shelf. Every container is shifted around, out of order. The large containers are sitting on top of small ones. And my yogurts are flipped upside down. It’s utter chaos.

Connor wouldn’t do this. He knows how much I hate people touching my things. This had to be the work of Ronan. He’s trying to get under my skin.

Shaking my head, I spend a few minutes reorganizing everything before I grab an apple and head to my room.

I replace things out of place there, too. It’s all very subtle, and for someone who isn’t particular, probably not noticeable. A picture that’s not quite straight, a book that’s flipped upside down in a stack of right-side up books, a necklace that’s dangling oddly on its hook.

My stomach erupts in butterflies even as my jaw tenses, knowing Ronan was in my bedroom. He’s testing me.

But to what end?

To tell me he’s thinking about me? That he hasn’t forgotten about me yet?

Or simply to piss me off?

To get a reaction out of me; to force a confrontation?

Two can play at this game.

I hesitate with my hand on his doorknob, listening intently. No sound. The door creaks as I push it open. My heart begins racing at the sight of his bed—unmade, the sheets tangled in a ball. His work clothes are strewn over the dresser, along with a fistful of change and scraps of papers. Receipts, from the looks of it, though I see phone numbers scrawled on the backs. God, he’s as bad as my brother. Did he get those numbers today while trolling the hotel beach, pretending to work?

A wave of dismay washes over me. If he brings someone home tonight and I have to listen to them….

I dart over to his nightstand. Inside the top drawer is a box of condoms—economy-sized. “Pig,” I mutter, pulling it out with a smile of triumph. Let’s see how far he gets without these.

There’s not much else in the drawer. A tube of lubricant, unopened. My cheeks flush. We definitely didn’t need that. There’s also a framed picture. I pull it out and study it. It’s of Ronan in a graduation gown, his arm around a pretty brunette. She’s smiling broadly, her arms wrapped around his waist. They look like they’re in love. I’m guessing this is his ex.

He’s holding a certificate in his hands. It’s difficult to read, but I manage to make out the University of Indianapolis label. Ronan went to college?

Why the hell is he working in the Outdoor crew at Wolf then?

Shaking my head—I really don’t know anything about the guy I just slept with—I set the picture back into the drawer and carefully slide it shut. There isn’t much for me to mess with in his room. He only came with a duffel bag’s worth of clothes, after all.

The condoms will need to be enough.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock has my heart racing. I bolt, intent on rounding the bed and getting out of Ronan’s room before he catches me. But my baby toe catches the corner of the bed frame and I go down like a sack of rocks, my vision blurring as pain shoots through my foot.

I’m fighting the tears as I hear Connor’s booming voice from the living room and footfalls approaching in the hallway. I have just enough time to shove the box of condoms under the bed before Ronan appears in nothing but shorts, his T-shirt thrown over his shoulder, his bare chest glistening with sweat.

Surprise hits his face. “Ryan?”

“What?” I snap. The pain is beginning to subside. I force myself to stand and face him.

He leans casually against the doorframe, a knowing smirk growing on his face.

Connor appears behind him. “Ry? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Looking for something.”

His face screws up. “In Ronan’s room?”

“Yes, in Ronan’s room. Because Ronan likes to touch my things without asking.”

Ronan settles a heated gaze on me. “I can’t help myself. I know how you react.”

Struggling to keep my cool—even as my cheeks grow hot—I hobble toward the door, noting the volleyball under Connor’s arm. “Trying to pick up women at the beach again?”

Connor grins. “Not trying. Succeeding. They’re meeting us later tonight.”

The change of topic worked. Unfortunately, the answer isn’t what I wanted to hear. My stomach flips. “Great. Let me by, please?”

Ronan watches me intently as I squeeze past, making every effort not to touch him.

I don’t come out of my room again until they’ve left.

~ ~ ~ ~

I didn’t think I was going to fall asleep but I must have drifted off, because I’m awakened just after 1:00 a.m. by the sound of female laughter.

The sharp edge of jealousy pricks me. But this is my fault, I remind myself.

I went to him. He doesn’t owe me anything.

I close the book I fell asleep to and set it on my nightstand.

And then I curl up into a ball in my dark little room and fight the painful disappointment that I didn’t expect to feel.

I guess the plus side is that I’m not thinking about David right now.

Someone uses the bathroom and then quiet footfalls trail into Ronan’s room. The door closes, and a moment later, the bed creaks. The whole process is a lot quieter than the last time with that drunken girl.

I stare up at the white ceiling with knots in my stomach, waiting for the moaning to start, reminding myself that Ronan is an ass and a pig, and that I don’t want him—I don’t particularly even like him—and I brought this on myself.

It’s an hour before I start to drift off.

Right around the time I realize that Ronan must not have brought anyone home.