Page 47 of Ronan

“Ronan? What are you doing here?” I whisper.

“I’m looking after some things for my sister’s husband. My woman is in town signing books, so I thought I’d pop in and give her a snog.”

I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. God, this man is persistent. I clear my throat and lift a brow.

“Your woman? What’s a snog?”

“Aye, my woman,” he says as he reaches behind my neck and captures my lips in a deep, searing kiss. I have to grasp the table to keep myself from lifting out of my seat. He breaks the kiss and pulls away. “That, love, is a snog.”

“You’re going to make those rumors about me start up again,” I breathe and shake my head.

He gives me a questioning look. I brush it off. This is not the time or place to tell him that an author who was mad my first book became a bestseller ran around telling anyone who would listen that I fucked her husband while she watched.

We had been cool before that. She was my critique partner in the beginning. Her first two books didn’t really do much, but she refused to change covers and get a real editor. That wasn’t my fault or my problem.

The next thing I knew, she was besties with anyone who had my name in their mouth in a negative way. The same folks she talked shit about repeatedly. I never knew her husband and I wouldn’t fuck his funny-looking ass if they paid me to.

However, once the rumors started, everyone started to call me a ho and put out there that I fucked to get where I was. People will believe some shit that doesn’t make any damn sense just to have a reason to hate you.

“Excuse me, I believe I was next,” a guy comes up and says while holding my book.

I jerk my head back as I watch the dark look that comes over Ronan’s face. The guy looks between the two of us and takes a step back. I reach under the table for my bag.

Not that I don’t have male readers. I have met a few at this event today. One said he reads with his girlfriend. She couldn’t come out today because she had to work, so he was here to get them both signed copies. I thought that was cute.

I’m not alarmed by the fact this guy has come to my table. I have male readers, but I have rarely had a white male reader come to a signing. Something feels off.

Before I can pull my piece, the guy tosses my book down on the table and hurries off. A piece of paper falls out of the book onto the table. Ronan moves lightning fast to pick the paper up and read it.

Fury fills his expression. He balls the page up and shoves it into his back pocket. I look up at him with furrowed brows.

Turning his head, he gives a slight nod I would have missed if I weren’t watching him. I quickly glance to see who the gesture was for. I catch the back of a redhead rushing off through the crowd.

“What did that note say?”

“How much longer do you need to be here?”

“Ronan, what did the note say?” I bite out.

I don’t have time for games. I need to know if some shit could pop off. I don’t want to drag him in the middle of some of my shit.

“It’s nothing ya need to fuss about, love. When yer done here, we can go for dinner. I’ve missed ya.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and release a heavy breath. How can I tell him that I need to watch my back because I’m in the middle of some shit with Albanian drug lords? This is why I don’t date.

“Here, this is the key to my room. I still have about an hour and a half left. I’ll meet you there and we’ll talk.”

My hotel and room number are on the key sleeve. It’s not far from here. If he leaves now, I can excuse myself to get Hudson to find that guy and brief him to keep an eye out, but also for him and the guys to keep their distance when Ronan is around.

Ronan takes the key, making sure to brush my fingers as he does so. That freaking pulse between my legs starts.

He leans in once more and pecks my lips. As if he’s not satisfied with that, he captures my lips in a deep kiss. I’m left breathless when he pulls away.

I keep my eyes on him as he turns and leaves. Damn, does anything not look good on that man? His blue jeans hug his tight ass as he strolls off. The white dress shirt he has on stretches nicely across his broad back.

“When do you plan to write about him? You can take my money now.”

I turn to the reader, fanning her face as she looks after Ronan. I plaster on a smile instead of telling her to keep her eyes to herself. What has this man done to me?

---