Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Then again, maybe she can fix your dick, seeing as it’s been broken since Red’s wedding.”
Before I can offer a retort, my radio crackles. “Ronan, you on the beach?” Charlie’s brusque voice calls out.
“Yeah, boss. What’s up?” I respond into the receiver.
“You’re wanted in the conference center. Pacific Room, stat.”
I frown at Connor, who matches my confusion. “What for?” That’s inside the hotel. Not a part of our crew’s jurisdiction.
“Don’t question me and get the fuck over there now!” Charlie barks.
I roll my eyes. The outdoor crew supervisor is an asshole to me in front of others, but we get along well behind closed doors. I can’t tell if it’s because he likes me or because I’m tight with the big boss’s wife, but ever since the wedding, he’s been giving me extra responsibility. Six months ago, he added the label “assistant supervisor” to my job description and bumped my pay. I never asked for any of it. “On my way.”
“See? That’s why you don’t become the supe’s bitch.” Connor pops open the umbrella and moves onto the next one.
“I’ll send Dean over to help you finish.”
“Don’t bother. I got it handled.” His gaze snags on a pair of blonds in string bikinis strolling the shoreline. All it takes is a half wave from him and they’re veering this way, flipping hair over their shoulders.
Connor ends every work day with at least a half dozen numbers in his pocket. He can never remember which number belongs to which face. It’s always fun to watch him make plans and wait patiently to see who shows up.
“As long as you get this done before the guests complain.” I can see them hovering around the poolside desk, waiting for the clock to strike beach time.
“Aye-aye, boss,” he mocks, saluting me. Technically, Connor reports to me now, not that it’s changed our dynamic at all. But he busts my balls about it every day.
I take one last look at the unexpected message on my screen and then tuck my phone into my pocket, leaving Tasha on Read. Savage, I know, but she did break my heart.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I call out, a rare wide grin stretching across my face as I spot the female form ahead, her back to me. I could recognize Abbi’s fiery red hair from anywhere.
She spins around at the sound of my voice and her face lights up. “Surprise!”
My feet falter. I haven’t seen Abbi since the wedding and definitely not since she called to tell me she was pregnant.
“Wild, huh?” With a nervous giggle, she smooths her manicured hands over her emerald-green sundress—and her swollen belly—and waits for me to close the distance.
Fuck, she’s even more beautiful.
Swallowing against the unwelcome burn of jealousy, my pace speeds up, my work boots clomping along the marble floor. The cleaning team will curse me for the trail of dusty prints I’m leaving.
Scooping Abbi up in my arms, I lift her off the ground in a fierce hug, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. I don’t care if this is highly inappropriate. Having her pressed against my body again feels like breathing in air after being buried alive.
“Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.” But her arms tighten around my neck, returning the affection.
“Shut up. You’re all baby.” I wait a beat and add in a low voice so no passersby will hear. “And boobs. Damn, Red.” They were handfuls before … and I would know.
Wolf’s a lucky fucker.
Her cheeks burn as I set her back down. “Yeah, this whole pregnancy has been … interesting.”
I grin, unable to temper this temporary high I feel every time I’m near her. “How much longer?”
Abbi’s hands are on her belly again. “She comes in four months.”
“She?” My head tips back with a deep bellow of laughter. “That’ll make it three females under his roof. Amazing.”
She giggles. “I know, right? Henry’s already so overprotective with Violet. I think I saw a gray hair the other day.”
“Good. I hope you have five more girls. It’ll serve him right.” I lean against the wall and fold my arms, drawing her hazel eyes to my sleeve of tattoos, my arms, my chest. They stall on my dark hair, the ends bleached brown from long days in the sun. She reaches up to toy with a strand. “You’re growing it out.”
“Yeah. I needed a change.” I forgot how wavy it can get. The back tickles my neck.
A memory flashes briefly through my mind—Abbi with her hands on my buzzed head, her body writhing, while my face was buried between her legs—and I have to shove it out before my dick reacts.
She swallows hard, as if she can see my depraved thoughts. “You look good.”
“I feel good.” I was a bear for the first few weeks after quitting cigarettes and booze cold turkey, so much so that Connor bought a carton of Marlboros and pleaded with me to give up. But the gym has helped. I’ve added thirty pounds of muscle and can jog without feeling like I’m going to leave my lungs on the pavement.