2. Ronan

Ronan

The gorgeous brunette recovers quickly, her open mouth snapping shut as she eyes me. Honestly? When I was rushing back to my gate after retrieving my goddamn cell phone that I left at security, I couldn't stop thinking about the beautiful woman I saw on the escalator.

Not beautiful. Stunning.

Steal-my-breath-away stunning.

Call it fate or destiny or just good old karma that put me in the seat next to her. Whatever transpired to put me here, I'll take it. It's my first vacation ever without my daughter. Ever since my ex announced — while still pregnant — that she had no interest in becoming a parent, thereby leaving me a single dad, vacations have revolved around my little girl. Finding a woman to have fun with wasn't high on the to-do list since I figured I'd be too busy with my friend Eddie's wedding stuff, since that's the entire reason I'm going to Hawaii alone. But it's bumping up in priority as we study each other.

"I'm Ronan," I say, putting out my hand. She takes it, giving me a strong handshake.

"I know who you are." She drops my hand. "And my name is Willow."

Hmm, she knows me. This could go one of two ways. In my experience, when a woman recognizes me, it either means she's simply a baseball fan, meaning no drama, or she's seeing dollar bills. Schooling my tone to be a little more reserved until I figure out which camp she falls into, I reply, "Nice to meet you." Then, I settle back in my seat. But I can feel the heat of her gaze on me.

"You had a good season. Three-twenty batting average, best fielding percentage for a first baseman in your division. Impressive."

A fan, then.Maybe more? Hell, a beautiful woman who can list my stats like that? It's hot. "Let's not forget my RBIs and zone defense rating. You know your baseball."

She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "You could say that."

Enigmatic. I like it. She knows who I am, knows my game, but she isn't fangirling. There's no ring and no mistaking the interest I saw on the escalator.

"What's taking you to Hawaii?" I ask, lifting my hat off to run my fingers through my hair before setting it back down, tugging the brim down a bit. I may not be as famous as some of my colleagues, but I'd still rather not be recognized right now. People are filing past us, heading to their seats, but I feel as if I'm in a little bubble. It's just me and this woman I really want to get to know.

"Vacation. I just needed to get away for a while." She puts down her tablet and settles against the window to face me. "What about you?"

"Friend from university is getting married." I flash her a grin. "And some time in the sun sounded pretty good before I head into an Ontario winter."

Her chuckle is throaty and fucking sexy. "Yeah, I don't think I could handle the cold out east."

I shrug. "Eh, it's not so bad. It's home, hopefully for a few more years."

Her shoulders relax slightly. Or am I imagining that? Just then, a flight attendant leans down into our space. "May I offer either of you a beverage?"

I glance at Willow, gesturing for her to go first. Her nose crinkles adorably as she thinks before responding, "It's a toss-up. Mimosa or Americano." She taps her chin twice, then nods. "Americano now, mimosa later. Thank you."

The attendant turns to me, but I'm just smiling at the woman next to me. She clears her throat and I realize she's waiting for my answer.

"Just coffee, thanks."

As soon as she leaves to fill our order, I turn back to Willow. "At the risk of sounding like a creep, are you traveling alone?"

She lifts an eyebrow, just one, and goddamn, that's weirdly attractive. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why do you ask?"

Good question. Why am I asking? It's not like me to be this forward with women. I've got Peyton, my daughter, to think about. Not to mention the built-in complication and drama that can come from trying to pick up women as a somewhat high-profile athlete.

But something's different with Willow. She's beautiful, sure, but there's more to it than just her looks. She's got some sort of magnetic pull that I can't seem to ignore. I pause a second, feeling the simmering attraction between us solidify even further as I figure out how to answer. But what I come out with sounds corny, even to my ears.

"I'm just trying to clarify the situation so I know how best to proceed. It would seem fate keeps putting us together, and who are we to deny that?"

Smothering her burst of laughter with her hand, Willow's eyes dance with amusement. "Fate? Really? That's not what I expected you to say. You don't seem like a believer-in-fate kind of guy."

She's not wrong, but I'm just glad my cheeseball answer didn't turn her off. Which means it's my turn to shrug. "I don't. Not normally. But when I saw you at security, I wanted to run after you, only you disappeared so quickly. Then on the escalator, when I saw you a second time, I cursed my idiot self for leaving my cell phone at security. Even though you were to blame for me forgetting it in the first place." I take a chance and lean in a little closer. "See, I was distracted by the gorgeous woman with a vibrating bag." She laughs again. "If I hadn't needed to go back and collect it, you should know I would have instantly tried to find you. Which brings us to now. Seeing you sitting in the seat next to mine? Definitely a sign that we were meant to meet."

"Ah, so that was you at security." Those baby blues scan me from head to toe. "Damn, I knew my instincts were good."

"Instincts?" I ask, raising my own eyebrows.

Willow nods. "I noticed you. I was just otherwise occupied by my vibrator situation…" She trails off, leaving me to fill in the rest. She's bold, and fuck if I don't love that. I noticed it when everything happened at security. Other women might have been embarrassed, but Willow just owned it.

She leans in closer, a faint whiff of citrus and vanilla hitting my nose and making my goddamn dick stir in my pants. "But what if I told you I don't believe in fate. I'm in control of my life and my destiny, not some unseen, all-knowing force."

"Oh, so you're a control freak." I smirk as her eyes narrow. "It's fine, I get it. A strong, independent woman like you has to take care of herself. It's admirable. It's how I want to raise my daughter. But there's something to be said for not knocking opportunity down when it shows up."

I watch closely to see how she responds to my comment about my daughter. If she's a baseball fan, she might already know about my single parent status, but just in case she isn't, her reaction will be telling.

"So you're saying you're an opportunity?" she says lightly, clearly unfazed by the daughter situation. Which means either she already knew or she doesn't care. Both of which suit me just fine right now.

My shoulders lift in a shrug. "Maybe. I could be. We're going to the same small island, after all."

"Well, if that happens, we certainly can't ignore that, now can we." Sitting back, her tongue darts out to lick her lip just before she tugs it between her teeth. "And I suppose I should confess, I almost got on the escalator back down to follow you. Before I realized who you were."

Even with that last sentence being a reason to pause, I mentally pump my fist. It's been a long-ass time since a woman captivated me the way Willow does. I haven't been celibate, but my daughter and my career have come first and second, leaving no time for any romantic connections. Aside from a few one-night stands with women I find at bars on the road, while my mother looks after my kid at home, I've been alone for years. That's never bothered me; there's never been anyone I wanted to get to know. Not until this woman, right here.

"Seems to me you should let me take you out for dinner tonight," I suggest, taking the lead from her bold attitude.

"Hmm. If I say yes, then that's not exactly leaving it up to fate. Maybe we simply enjoy the next few hours as seatmates, then go our separate ways and see what your friend fate has in store for us."

I lean back against my seat with a rueful chuckle. "Alright, you win. Fate it is."

The rest of the flight passes in a blink of an eye. Four plus hours of verbal banter, with only the slightest hint of flirtation, the barest of touches. A brush of her legs when she moved past me to use the bathroom. My fingers grazing hers when I pass her meal to her. For once, I wish I was crammed in an economy seat, simply so we'd be that much closer to each other. But then again, this has been fun.

Do I wish she'd just say yes to dinner? Yeah, I do. She's fascinating, and beautiful, and I want to know more.

When we land on Oahu, I follow Willow off the plane, and we make our way together, but without speaking, to the luggage carousel. It's weird how I don't want to say goodbye to a woman I just met a few hours ago. But even with all the flirting, it's clear she's got some pretty tall walls up. And it's got something to do with me being a baseball player. That was clear from her cryptic comment about following me before she knew who I was.

Once we both have our luggage, she turns to me.

"Well, this was fun. Thank you for making the flight quite enjoyable." A warm smile belies her formal words. I take the hand she stretches out and shake it firmly.

"You sure I can't take you to dinner?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager.

I might be imagining it, but I swear a flash of regret crosses her face. "Sorry, no."

There's nothing for me to do but nod, then watch as the most intriguing woman I've ever met walks away from me.

I don't stop thinking about her the entire time while I pick up my rental car and drive it to the beachfront resort where Eddie is getting married in two days. Once I'm checked into my suite, I head upstairs, barely noticing the stunning vista out my window. Instead, I drop down onto the bed and call home.

"Daddy!" Peyton shrieks as her little face fills the screen.

"Hey, Rocket," I say, feeling something settle in my chest the way it always does when I talk to my daughter. "How was your day?"

"Good. Did you find Moana?"

I chuckle. "No, baby girl, not yet. I just got to the hotel." Rising to stand, I cross the room to the open balcony doors and turn the camera around. "But look, the ocean is right there."

"I betcha find Moana at the beach!"

"Maybe. I'll keep my eye out."

"'Kay. And say hi to any chickens."

God, I love my kid. "You bet I will. So, what was the best part of your day?"

I settle back down on the bed for my daily check-in with Peyton. We've never missed it, even when I've had evening games. I always found a way to call her in the afternoon or evening to check in, ever since she started talking. Before that, I'd at least call and wave at her chubby little toddler face. But now, at four and a half, she's a chatterbox.

She's my chatterbox, and I'd do fucking anything to make her smile. There's nothing and nobody on this planet more important than my little girl.