3. Ronan

Ronan

I'm coming out of the resort gym the next morning when I come to an abrupt halt and feel the need to rub my eyes, just to make sure I'm not dreaming. Because right there in front of me, wearing a lavender spandex shorts and sports bra set, is none other than my seatmate.

"Willow?" I call out, still not totally sure if I'm imagining things. I'm not ashamed to admit, she starred in a very X-rated dream last night, which should maybe feel weird since I barely know her. But fuck, if she doesn't look like temptation incarnate in workout clothes and a ponytail.

"Ronan?" Her eyes widen and the slightest hint of a smile crosses her face, lighting her up from the inside. "I'd say I'm surprised, but —"

"Fate." I finish for her with a grin. Her laugh is light and easy, and goddamn, do I want to hear it again. "What else could it be? We're staying at the same resort. C'mon, it's gotta be fate."

Willow just shakes her head, but she's full-on smiling now, and I count that as a win. "Or pure coincidence."

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Why would I?"

"Because I'm handsome and charming, and you're beautiful and intriguing, and I want to spend time with you while we're here in paradise together." Part of me can't quite believe I just laid it all out there for her like that, but something tells me Willow appreciates a direct approach. "But don't worry, I've wised-up. I'm not gonna ask you out for dinner right now."

She arches one brow. "You're not?"

I shake my head slowly. "Nope. Because you'd still say no. You're not ready to say yes. Not yet, at least. But you will be."

"So you're playing a long game?"

I wink. "I'm a good closer. Ninth inning home runs are my specialty."

She leans in, and I hold my breath as her subtly sweet and citrus perfume hits me. But then she whispers, "I don't date baseball players."

I turn slightly, so we're face-to-face, mere inches separating us. "I'm not looking to date you, Willow. Just take you out for dinner."

Her tongue darts out to lick her plump lips as she inhales, then backs away slightly. "Just dinner, huh?" she says, her voice sounding airy and carefree. "Right." She drags that one word out, as if she doesn't fully believe that dinner is my only intention. "Well, we'll see about that. I'm going to go do my workout." She gestures over her shoulder to the gym. "Maybe I'll see you around."

I let her walk away, but she only takes a few steps before I call out, "I think you will. Fate seems to be on our side, Willow."

Her shoulders shake with silent laughter as she waves over her shoulder.

I was already looking forward to this trip, but now? Even more.

An hour later, I'm trying not to think too hard about what Willow might be doing while I'm off with the guys for Eddie's bachelor party day. I've got no claim on her or her time. But fuck if I don't wish I was poolside with her instead of standing at the top of the jetty leading to the boat that will carry me and four other guys out to the ocean for a day of deep-sea fishing.

"Ronan. Dude."

I blink out of my fantasies of Willow in a bathing suit and focus on Jeremiah, my other buddy from university. The three of us were friends all through university. On the varsity baseball team, we were unstoppable. But I was the only one of us to go pro, the guys were content to move on to other things. And right now, Jer, Eddie, and a couple other friends of Eddie's from work are looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry, zoned out for a second."

Jeremiah raises his eyebrows. "Everything okay with Peyton and your mom?" he asks under his breath. I appreciate his discretion. My friends are good about not a big deal over who I am and what I do, but Eddie's other friends aren't quite as discreet. I've emphasized I'm not Ronan Sinclair, ball player, on this trip. I'm just Ronan, Eddie's friend and groomsman, but it still took a bit for them to let it go and treat me like a regular dude.

Since Jer knows I keep my personal life pretty locked down, I'm grateful he's keeping his voice low, even if he couldn't be more wrong about the reason for my distraction.

Instead of a pint-sized brunette pulling my focus, it's a tall, leggy one.

"Yeah, yeah. All good, man. Sorry. What did I miss?" I ask quietly.

"Not much, just the douchebags shooting the shit about who's gonna reel in the bigger fish."

I muffle my snicker at his name for two of Eddie's other friends. I already pegged them as being competitive for all the wrong reasons and have no intention of getting to know them. "Great." Not great. I'm missing out on a day where I could be trying to get to know Willow, win her over, and get her to say yes to dinner. Instead, I'm stuck going fishing on a fucking boat with a couple of cocky assholes.

I hate boats.

The guys all start walking down the wooden pier toward the fishing charter. I lag behind, kicking myself for not at least trying to get Willow's number so I could text her. That might alleviate some of the boredom I suspect I'm in for. Then again, we probably don't have cell service out on the fucking ocean. It's a damn good thing I like Eddie enough to do this.

A couple of hours later, I'm questioning that loyalty. One of the guys caught some big fish, don't ask me what kind, and I joined in a celebratory beer, but I'm over it. My stomach is roiling as much as the waves are, I'm fucking hot as hell on this boat with zero shade, and I swear, if I hear one more bad joke about how I'm striking out on catching a fucking fish, I'm gonna push someone overboard.

"I'm sorry about them, Sin."

The sound of my nickname from college ball makes me smile. Eddie's the one who started it, and it stuck with me all the way to the big leagues. Dropping down onto the bench next to me, Eddie passes over a bottle of water. I take it with a nod of thanks and guzzle half of it down before responding. "Not your problem, brother. It's fine."

"I swear they're not douchenozzles back home. What is it about vacation that brings out the worst in some people?"

I snort. "You mean they aren't always moments away from whipping out their dicks and measuring them?"

Eddie chokes back his laugh, but it's loud enough that one of the other guys looks over. Thankfully, someone's rod starts jerking, drawing the attention away.

"Thanks for coming," Eddie says. "I know it's not easy getting away with Peyton and all, so I just want you to know it means a lot that you're here. Hopefully, you have some fun this week, even if it isn't today."

I chuckle, because he might be one of my best friends, but I'm not about to tell him just what kind of fun I would like to have this week. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here. Even with Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there."

This time his laugh isn't as subtle. "Yeah. To be honest, they're only here because their wives are best friends with Clara. If it were up to me, I'd just spend the day surfing with you and Jer. But she really wants us to hang out and get to know each other, so she planned all of this."

"You could've told her what you wanted," I say bluntly.

Eddie just shrugs, then stands and scratches his chest before looking down at me. "Someday you'll find a woman who makes you realize the whole ‘happy wife, happy life' thing isn't total bullshit. When she's happy, I'm happy. It's that simple. And this, fishing with a bunch of guys, is not exactly a hardship."

I nod because what else am I meant to say? He's right, a fishing charter in Hawaii isn't exactly torture, even if it's not where I want to be right now. Eddie wanders over to the other guys, and I watch him for a second.

He is happy. That's clear to anyone who sees him and Clara together. And someday, sure, I'd love to find that. A partner, someone to do this life with. But today isn't that day.

Today I'd settle for a dinner date with a beautiful brunette.