Page 121 of Save Me

My jaw drops.

“Tongue back in your mouth, Sea Witch,” Ronan scolds.

“I wasn’t!” But there isverylittle left to the imagination, as his bare ass cheeks lift with each step, covered only by the fluorescent orange T at the top.

Bailey jogs past in her running gear, her phone aimed to record the entire sordid event. “Rebel and Skye are gonnalovethis.” They became fast friends the day Bailey started. They talk nearly every day.

“Tell ‘em to eat their hearts out.”

“Yeah? I’m sending it to Britt, too. What should I tell her?”

Connor groans. This buffoon has never shown a shred of embarrassment, but he might actually be close this time.

Meanwhile, Ronan’s jaw clenches, as it does every time there’s any conversation that involves his little sister and his best friend.

“Where are you going?” I’m unable to keep my laughter at bay. These two have struck up a strange friendship.

“To grab a coffee at the Sea Witch,” Bailey says.

“He’s not coming in the shop like that!” Frank bursts.

“That’s okay, he can wait outside and greet your customers!” Bailey grins as she rushes to catch up.

“That’s about four miles each way, and Connor’s not in shape for running,” Ronan muses.

And it’s past the hotel. I check my watch. It’s early, but there’ll be people out. “He’s going to be hugging his knees by the time he gets there.”

“Great, because Connor’s hairy ball sac is whatcustomers want to see when they come for their morning coffee,” Frank mutters, marching away. “No fucking ladders, Parker!”

“O-kay.” I roll my eyes as I resettle in a butterfly pose on my mat. “What do you have planned for today?”

Ronan stretches his arms over his head, his gaze drifting out to the emerald-green water—still warm despite the cooler temperature. “I was going to getTiki Threeout of the water this morning so Frank can do his thing before we put it in storage. Then I have a meeting at the county office.”

“Yeah? How’s that looking?”

“They seemveryopen to reconsidering the limited vendor licensing for Starfish Island.”

“I’ll bet.” Bedsheet Gate has earned us notoriety around town. The last thing Councilman Sanders wants is a new banner strung up, highlighting his company’s monopoly of the sandbar concession business. The town is doingeverythingthey can to appear unbiased and honest, now that people know the councilmembers have been personally benefiting from Gayle Anderson’s charity. Mayor Wilson resigned a week after the infamous day, which tells us there’s dirt to uncover, and it likely goes beyond the Wolf Hotel.

Gayle Anderson, on the other hand, still hasn’t admitted to any wrongdoing, and every time the question comes up, her go-to response is to list every unfortunate soul who has ever benefited from her charity. She is careful to never speak about the Wolf Hotel organization.

A few of the other councilmembers have posted weak statements of their own, claiming any benefits their familymay have seen from funds donated by Henry Wolf are strictly a coincidence. At the same time, Councilwoman Reeves’ daughter’s trip to Paris was quietly canceled. Reeves has since launched a PR campaign to focus on keeping Mermaid Beach’s small-town charm.

Of course, none of the shit splatter has landed on Henry, his publicity firm and lawyers spinning it far away from him.

We took the bedsheets down the morning after Henry came to declare his losses as a show of good faith. The damage had been done. True to his word, no lawyer has so much as breathed the wordlawsuitin our direction.

Repositioning myself on my hands and knees, I stretch my neck and angle my body into a cat-cow pose. “What do you think the chances are that we’ll have Sea Witch vendors at Starfish next year?”

“Almost guaranteed,” comes the raspy answer, confidence in his voice. “I’m still running numbers and poking around to see what sells, but I think we can turn a profit within the first two months. After that, it’s all gravy. And Henry has agreed to have the concierge staff recommend our cruises. Belinda’s head will explode if she’s still around next season and hears about it.”

I smile, listening to Ronan. He might have felt clueless in his position at the hotel, but he’s stepped up at Sea Witch, looking for ways for us to expand and make money. “Thank you, Director.” It’s an honorary title, much like Bailey’s Admiral status. Ronan gets a chuckle out of it.

And when I think about the career he gave up for me,for us, my heart swells with love and gratitude. I can’t believe there was a time that I thought Ronan was wrong for me, that trusting him would be a mistake. He’s everything I hoped he might be and more—loyal, reliable, protective. He still draws attention from women wherever we go, but he only has eyes for me.

Andfor our unborn son, spending evenings with his ear pressed against my belly before his mouth is pressed against every other part of me. He’s been to every doctor’s appointment and didn’t waver a beat when we flew to Indianapolis in August to meet his parents and tell them the news. Ronan Lyle may not have seemed like father material when we met, but I couldn’t imagine doing this without him.

“How much convincing did Abbi need to—do.” My voice falters as I roll over onto my butt to face Ronan, only to discover a tent in his shorts. “Seriously?”

“What?” He scoffs, as if the question is ludicrous. “You thought you could put your ass in the air like that andnotget a reaction from me?”

“Yeah, because I’m so sexy right now.” I rub my expanding belly. I was barely showing until a month ago—more bloated than anything—and then suddenly, I popped.

“This clearly says you are.” He slips his hand in to the front of his shorts, pushing the material down far enough to reveal his hard length in a lewd display.

“Ronan!” There are beachgoers walking along the shoreline at all hours of daylight.

“Relax, no one can see, Sea Witch.” With a lingering stroke, he tucks himself away. “I need a shower. Youcoming?” He doesn’t wait, sauntering toward the side of the house, where the outdoor stall waits. I can’t count how many times we’ve had sex in that thing since he’s moved in, often with the curtain wide open, as if it feeds his salacious tendencies. In fact, I can’t remember the last time Ijustshowered in it.

I hold off for a few beats, pretending I have an ounce of self-control around that man, before I climb to my feet and run after him.