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Now he was staring at the picture while he rode upstairs to the room where he and Denver had become even closer than they’d been before. He’d loved her before he walked into it, but somehow by the time he’d walked out, she had become everything.
His world.
In the photo he always carried with him, she was laughing. He’d pulled her against him for the shot. He was always tugging her closer.
Was that the problem? Had he finally yanked her too hard? Demanded too much? He’d tried to temper his needs, to slow down the timeline that kept speeding up in his head. Slow and steady had always been his mantra, but this entire time with Denver, he’d been on an accelerated schedule. The regular pace didn’t seem fast enough.
Probably because now that he knew exactly what and who he wanted, it didn’t make sense to him to screw around with maybes and tomorrows. He much preferred yeses and forevers.
Theirs.
The doors snicked open on their floor and he swept his thumb over the picture once more before he drew out his key card. He walked down the hall to their room, dread chasing every step. His trepidation didn’t make sense. She could have taken a quick nap or something and not awakened on time. Though he’d never seen Denver nap in her life, but she might have—
“Hey, wait a second,” Ryan said, coming around the corner to see a maid rolling her cart out of the open door of their suite. If the maid was in there, Denver surely wasn’t. “Who let you into the room?”
It was an asinine question. Maids didn’t have to wait for permission if the room appeared unoccupied, especially when they’d missed their scheduled room-cleaning
time that morning due to the helpful “Do Not Disturb” sign they’d hung on the doorknob. But he’d tried to hang his hopes on Denver napping or taking some time for herself or anything to explain why she wasn’t downstairs with him.
The maid didn’t hear him at first so he repeated the question. She glanced up, frowning as he stopped beside her cart. “The young lady and her gentlemen said they were finished with the room. I assumed they were checking out early.”
“What gentleman? I’m her gentleman. This is my room. Ours.” He shoved the cart out of the way and burst into the room, his gaze swinging in all directions. The bed was neatly made, as if they’d never slept in it. As if he’d never tied her open for his mouth, his hands, his cock.
Her bag was gone. Not his. His was still in the corner where he’d left it.
“Where did you put her bag?” He whirled on the bewildered maid, whose big dark eyes had grown even larger. “Denver’s bag isn’t here. Where is it?”
“I didn’t put it anywhere, sir. She took it with her. Her gentleman was carrying it—”
“She doesn’t have another gentleman! I’m it. It’s me.” He realized he was shouting and clamped a hand on the back of his neck to try to reel himself in. “Are you sure there isn’t a mistake? Maybe we aren’t talking about the same person. She has long dark hair, dark eyes, golden skin. She was wearing a green gown. She’s fucking beautiful.” He was too wound up to regret the curse word. All he cared about was finding his girl. “Did you see her?”
The maid nodded. “Yes, it was her. Green dress. She had on sneakers.”
Ryan swallowed and shut his eyes. Get it together, man. Think.
“I wasn’t sure, but since there was still a bag in the room…” The maid shrugged. “I just started cleaning the room.” She tugged at her smock nervously. “I left the note I found.”
His eyes blinked open, though his gaze was fuzzy at the edges. Panic was making him mental. He didn’t understand what the hell was going on. “What note?”
The maid pointed to the desk. He crossed the room and snatched up the cream-colored stationery. Denver’s small, cramped handwriting blurred, so he rubbed his eyes until he could make out the words.
Ryan,
This is hard to say, but it’s better I tell you now than later when we get too involved. We had some fun, but after thinking about it some more, I’m just not ready to settle down. I hope you understand. I know you’ll make another woman happy someday.
I wish you all the best. Good luck tonight.
Hummingbird
“What the fuck is this? I’ll make another woman happy someday? She would never fucking say this. Never.” He slammed a fist down on the desk, shaking the lamp so hard he thought it would fall to the floor. He wanted it to. Wanted to watch everything in the room shatter and disintegrate under his fists.
“Sir, do you want me to call security?”
“Oh sure. Yes, of course I do. Because if I’m going to fuck up a room, I want security to see it.” He punched the desk again for good measure. Then he ripped up the note into tiny pieces, marched into the bathroom, dumped them in the toilet, and hit flush.
It was only when he was watching the little cream flecks circle the bowl that the last word on the page registered.
Hummingbird.
