It had been a year since you first met Ronan, the charming Irish boy who had wandered into the bar where you worked. He had been on vacation in Malibu, spending his days surfing and his nights sitting at the bar, chatting with you over drinks. Conversations with him had been effortless—filled with laughter, teasing, and stories of far-off places.

But vacations don’t last forever. Eventually, Ronan had to return to Ireland, leaving behind the golden beaches and, more importantly, you. You had known from the start that he wouldn’t stay, but that hadn’t made saying goodbye any easier. Still, you had parted on good terms, promising to remember your time together fondly.

Now, a year later, you were wiping down the counter when a familiar figure strolled through the door. Your breath caught, disbelief flashing across your face before excitement took over.

"Ronan!" you gasped, eyes lighting up as you hurried around the bar.

He grinned, that same easy, boyish smile you remembered. "Hey, Sugar" he drawled.

"Came for the beach?" You asked.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, I came for you," he said, his voice softer this time.

Your smile faltered for just a second, heart stumbling over his words.

Ronan leaned against the counter, watching your reaction with a quiet confidence. "Spent every penny I had just to get back here," he admitted. "Figured I left something behind last time. Thought I’d come back and see if I could steal it properly this time."

Warmth bloomed in your chest. He had come back. For you.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "You’re a terrible thief, Ronan," you murmured, your grin returning. "Because I think I was already yours."