“Sounds like a challenge,” I said. “I’m in.”
“Yeah?”
“I’d love to. Anything to help. We’ll be like the house flippers on HGTV. But let’s be more Chip and Joanna, less Tarek and Christina.”
Ronan stared at me blankly. “I don’t know who any of those people are, but…sure.”
I laughed and lowered my mouth to his. He kissed me back with intention, but I still couldn’t feel my legs. I slid like butter off his hard, warm body and cuddled against him.
“Not yet, you beast.”
“Water?”
Without waiting for an answer, he drew on his flannel sleep pants and padded out to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water, handed it to me, then stripped naked again and climbed into bed.
I laughed. “You’re insatiable.”
“You’re naked,” he said. As if that explained everything.
I took a few sips, then curled into the warm solidity of him. His fingers played in my hair while mine trailed over his skin, his tattoos. The owl watched me, and I smiled. Ronan had explained it was for his mother. The owl symbolized wisdom and vigilance and was her favorite animal. He got the tattoo so she could watch over him and make sure he always did right by those who needed him. To trust and keep going.
She’d be so proud of him, a thousand times over.
“Maybe, just maybe, after you and Hector get that house flipped and after the Boardwalk Crafts Fair, we can take some time off,” I said. “I think we’ve both earned a vacation.” I frowned. “But hold up. Do I remember what that word means? I think I do…”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know. France maybe.” I ran my fingertip over his luscious lips. “You can kiss me under the Eiffel Tower.”
“Sounds like mushy romantic shit. The kind you hate.”
“Maybe I’m changing my mind about mushy romantic shit. I blame you. The prom night you made for us with the butterflies and the lights… I was helpless to resist.”
“We’ll go wherever you want,” he said.
I pressed my cheek to listen to his heartbeat. “Paris might be a bit much for a two-and-a-half-year-old, and I don’t think I can be that far away from August just yet.”
“Me neither.”
Ugh, this man.
“A long weekend in San Francisco maybe?”
“That works too.” Ronan nuzzled my neck. “I’d settle for anywhere I can make you come until you scream without worrying about waking up toddlers or grandmothers.”
“Amen tothat,” I said, listening to the rain and reveling in the feel of Ronan in my arms. In my bed. Back in my life after three years of excruciating absence.
“Speaking of France,” I said after a minute, “I got a very interesting order from Paris last week on the shop’s website.”
“What kind of order?”
“For a wedding ring. Do we know an Albert Bernard?”
“Don’t think so.”
“He’s a lawyer—and an artist on the side apparently, because he designed the ring himself, and it’s…”
“Ugly as hell?” Ronan supplied. “Tacky? Ridiculous?”