Page 17 of Stranded

ALPH

I’ve never metsomeone quite like Ronan.

Fun, flirty, and wicked smart… that much is obvious. But he’s also a walking enigma.

Ronan can be a high-energy chatterbox of endless dirty jokes, but when he wants to really make an impact, he can shut all of that off in an instant. He was calm, still, and almosttoopresent as he watched me freak out about that stupid blanket.

Another example: he just strutted across the bar like he owns the place. And not even an hour ago, he was trembling on the edge of the dock like he thought I might not even see him.

Almost by accident, I’ve seen all these different sides of Ronan that seem like opposites at first… but as a collection, he makes sense.

He dazzles me, just by being himself.

That’s the most baffling part of all. How could he think anyone would fail to notice him—and, more than that,wanthim?

I know I do.

But he’s still not sleeping in my bed tonight.

Ronan’s willing to respect that one line in the sand. He’ll stand right on it, flirting outrageously. But I know I can’t be swayed, so I don’t mind it one bit. It’s… it’s actually really fun.

Those moments where Ronan is teasing me mercilessly, or looking me up and down like he’s composing a to-do list… it drags out some new instinct in me. I find myself just wanting to shove him up against a wall and kiss him—this time, on purpose—and more.

So much more.

I’m aching to melt his triumphant grin into pure need, tease him until he’s desperate, and then make him show me his unashamed ecstasy.

But… what if I give in, and then that’s it? That’s all he ever lets me have?

I’m already more interested in Ronan than I have been in anyone before. It’s going to take a lot more than one night to figure out what that means for me.

“What should we toast?” Ronan asks me, picking up his glass as I slide onto the bar stool across from him.

I hum and tap my beer bottle on the table. Everything I can think of is way too romantic… or not romantic enough.

“To us?” I suggest at last.

He smiles and raises his glass to clink against my bottle. “To us.”

We gulp a few sips of our drinks and settle down with contented sighs, measuring each other up now that we’re finally face-to-face and alone in the light.

Holy crap. He’s beautiful in a way that makes me stop and stare.

I can’t help but appreciate the curve of his cheekbone and the soft swell to his lower lip. His eyebrows are arched like he’s poised to make a sassy remark. His skin is smooth, except for the hint of stubble I felt earlier, along his jaw and upper lip.

But it’s not just his physical beauty. It’s the soft glow in his spirit that shines straight through his bright green eyes, drawing me in like a moth to flame.

“So,” Ronan says, settling down and leaning slightly forward across the table. “How long have you lived here?”

“All my life—minus the last few years,” I tell him. “I came back home this spring.”

“Mm?” Ronan raises an eyebrow. “What’s the story?”

“There isn’t one, really. I moved to Alberta with my ex-girlfriend and got a job out there. It didn’t work out.”

“The job, or the ex-girlfriend?” Ronan gives a self-deprecating snort before he’s even finished the question. “Sorry. That’s a pretty dumb question.”

“Both, actually,” I smile wryly, waving off his sympathetic grimace. “We agreed to just be friends. I was working at the climbing gym nearby, so I figured I’d stay for a couple months. That became a couple years, until the gym closed and the ex wanted me to come work at her parents’ ranch…”

---