Page 37 of Stranded

“Oh!” Ronan looks up abruptly and launches himself up, nearly stumbling over the side of the couch. “Nothing here is final!”

I laugh and cover my eyes. “It’s okay, I’m not looking. Just guide me to the stairs if you’re ready to go.”

Ronan giggles from nearby, in that soft sound that always makes me smile. “It’s okay,” he says, touching me on the shoulder. Everywhere his fingers touch prickles with pleasant heat. “You can look that way. Just don’t…look, look.”

“I won’t look, look,” I swear solemnly, hand on heart. “Just look. Maybe look, and then at a later moment, look. But not look, look.”

Ronan snorts with laughter and shoves my shoulder. He can’t budge me, but I pretend to stagger away from him. “Come on, goofball. Let’s go.”

“Hey. That was my idea,” I protest.

Ronan grins. “We’ll call it a collaboration.” He skips down the stairs to the landing, and he’s out the door before I even make it to the bottom. “So, where are we going first?”

I grin and tug the door closed. “Anywhere at all.” But Ronan doesn’t move. He’s just standing there, looking pointedly between me and the door.

“Oh,” I groan and fish around in my pocket for the keys. “I thought your serial killers strike at night. Okay, okay. Hold on.”

I’ll never get used to locking the doors. In a place where everyone knows everyone, most of us don’t. It’s easier to get help in an emergency that way, or just grab a cup of sugar when the store’s closed.

But Ronan doesn’t do things the Sunrise Island way yet, and that’s okay. It’ll come in time.

“They can strike at all hours,” Ronan insists, his eyes sparkling as he falls into step beside me to head down the path. “I was listening to this episode today?—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I interrupt him, wagging a finger. He told me way too much over supper last night. “If you want to scare yourself with all those podcasts, go ahead. I don’t want any part in it.”

I’m not going to admit that I spent the first few hours in bed last night flinching at every familiar noise in my old house.

Ronan giggles at me and pulls the gate open. “It’s okay for you. You can just punch an intruder in the face.Ihave toflirtmy way out of the situation.”

Ronan splays himself along the front gate and spreads his legs, tilting his head back. Watching him stand there in those little short-shorts, with his crop top and sandals, a sun-bronzed tinge to his face, the sunlight catching his blond hair…

Fuck. He’s spellbinding.

I shake my head hard to pull myself out of it. “Did you put on sunscreen?” Ronan’s chin flops back down against his chest and he groans, so I hold up my hands. “Sorry, sorry. Just making sure.”

“I was busy fantasizing, you know,” Ronan closes the gate and trots to catch up with me. “It’s gone now. Ruined. I demand compensation.”

“How about a tour?”

Ronan lights up like he’s forgotten why we’re going out for a walk. “Oh, yeah! When does the tour start? Or… where?”

I laugh and spread my arms to gesture around us. “Like I said… anywhere.”

“Right here,” Ronan declares in a low moan. “I’m ready, Alph. Hurry.”

I’m not going to fall for that, either.

“Okay,” I tell him, pointing out the house ahead of us. “So, the old mine shafts run in the woods behind this house…”

Ronan pouts to himself about me not taking the bait. It’s very cute—and more than a little satisfying. I’m starting to learn the rules of his game. Sometimes I can even play it well enough to beat him, and that makes it more fun for us both.

God knows I’d love to let him have his way with me… but I can’t let him get himself hurt, especially with his future to think about. For now, this has to stay exactly as it is: fun. Otherwise, our hearts might just get tangled up in all of this.

And then who knows what could happen?

Chapter

Fifteen

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