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It's been a rollercoaster of a night, from getting mugged to being rescued by Ryan to now finding myself in a stranger's bed. I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach as I think about Ryan, his easy smile, and the way he seemed genuinely interested in me and my life.
But I push those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand: getting some rest. I strip down to my underwear and slip under the covers, the soft mattress enveloping me in warmth and comfort. Tex hops onto the bed and snuggles up against me, his warm body a soothing presence next to mine. The bed smells like Ryan—like expensive aftershave and whiskey and wood smoke—and I give into the impulse to nestle into that scent and pretend he's here.
Maybe it's wrong…perhaps it's just the painkillers.
But whether it's wrong or not, the thought of his presence helps me drift off to sleep.
I wake up in a stranger's bed with a dog licking my face.
Well...not exactly a total stranger, I guess. After spending a whole evening with Ryan Wright, it's fair to say that he's not a stranger anymore—in fact, he's more of a friend. A stranger wouldn't have driven me to the hospital, sat with me in the ER, and let me crash in their bed.
Yeah. He's a friend.
And the whole night, I was safe.
Tex wags his tail excitedly as I stir, stretching my arms over my head only to remember that I have a knife wound on my forearm. I can smell breakfast downstairs, though, and my stomach rumbles as I sit up with a groggy yawn.
My head is still a little fuzzy from the painkillers they gave me at the ER, but I'm starting to come back to myself as I set my feet on the spiral staircase and go downstairs. Ryan is standing at the stove, looking over his shoulder at me with a smile.
"Good...you're up," he says. "I hope Tex didn't disturb you."
"He didn't," I frown, looking out the window at the urban sprawl of New York. "Wait a second...what time is it?"
"Ten."
"Shit," I curse. "Where did I put my phone last night?"
"It's on the counter," Ryan says, watching me with concern as I bolt for it. "Whoa...take it easy. You're still hurt."
"I'm fine," I say. "I had an appointment with a bride this morning, and...oh no, she already left a bad review…"
"For what?"
"I work as a tailor on the side," I murmur. "I had a bride who needed alterations on a vintage gown, and she's pissed."
"I'm sure she'll forgive you when you explain that you were mugged and spent the night in the ER—"
I snort. "You would be shocked at how entitled these girls can be...but I sure hope so."
Ryan chuckles, then gestures towards the island counter where breakfast is set up as I type out a message to her apologizing. He's right—she should understand—but I'm not holding out hope. I just hope my star rating will recover soon.
"Well, let's not focus on that right now," Ryan says. "You need to eat. You had quite the night, and I just...don't want you passing out or anything."
I nod in agreement before grabbing a plate at the counter. The smell of coffee, bacon, and eggs is making my mouth water, and I can't help but feel grateful for Ryan's hospitality. As I start to eat, Ryan leans against the counter and watches me thoughtfully.
"What?" I ask with a mouthful of food.
"I was just thinking," Ryan says, "about how differently last night could have gone."
I swallow the bite in my mouth before responding. "What do you mean?"
"You were mugged and could have been hurt worse than you were," Ryan says. "And you're just...acting like nothing happened."
I shrug. "Life goes on. I've got money to make, places to be."
"How many jobs do you have anyway?"
I put down my fork and look up at the ceiling, holding up my hands to count on my fingers. "Let's see," I hum. "Staff manager at the White Oak, that's one. Then...owner of an online boutique,pet sitter, tailor...I think that's it. Oh, but I also work as a personal shopper when I can get the gigs for it."
