Left (Still Standing, #1)

by Graves, T. R.

  "You need shoes, also." Ryker intervenes as if I'd just been wronged.

  "Really? I have lots of shoes at home," I complain.

  "You can try them on and pick out the ones you like, or I'll have them send over one pair of every shoe in your size," Ryker says, challenging me.

  "You know... I was having the best time clothes shopping with you until you became obsessed with buying me everything I try on."

  "I'll keep that in mind for next time." He looks over at the saleswoman and says, "Shoes?"

  "If you'll follow me," she says, turning and leading us out of the dressing room area.

  Soon we're in an area filled with Christian Louboutins, my favorite shoes of all time. No matter how hard I try to pretend I don't care about the shoes in front of me, I can't. I love every red-soled one of them.

  Hastily, the saleswoman has dozens of size eights in front of me, and I'm trying them on. I don't look at the price tags as I pick out five of the most versatile pairs.

  I can tell by Ryker's lighthearted mood that he's happy I've conformed. Soon, he and my saleswoman are huddle up next to the register. I don't know what all they're talking about, but I do hear a snippet that tells me he's having the clothes delivered to my room.

  When he finishes spending enough on my clothes to feed a small country, he heads toward me with an ear-to-ear grin. He grabs my hand and says, "See. That wasn't so bad. Was it?"

  Sarcastic, I say, "It wasn't bad at all for me. Your pocketbook is what took the hit."

  Intertwining our fingers, he asks, "Can we go to the lounge and have a drink while we wait for your clothes to be delivered?"

  "That'd be nice."

  In the concierge lounge, Ryker and I find a seat next to the window and look out over the Riverwalk.

  "Have you ever been on the boat tour?" I ask Ryker, looking down at the river and noting how many twists and turns there are.

  "No. I've only been here for business. Never had time to be a tourist."

  I nod as if I understand his predicament. "My friend Sabrina came here a few weeks ago and said the boat tour was the only real way to appreciate the walk." Reflecting, I say, "She begged me to tag along. I didn't because I didn't want to upset Colt. He's been working night and day trying to appease a client, one he claims to be the future of his father's business. Now I wonder if he would have cared at all. Maybe I've spent too much time thinking he cared more about my comings and goings than he really did."

  Ryker takes a drink of his scotch and water before saying, "I think he cares as much as he's capable of caring."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  Ryker shrugs. "It seems to me that his father's approval means more to him than anything. He cares for you, but you—any woman—will always be second to his father."

  I think about what Ryker has said. "You're really good at reading people. That perfectly explains Colt. I've known for a while that I was third in his life, his father first, his job second. In fact, I hired a private investigator a while back just to make sure he wasn't cheating on me. I was in search of another woman. It never occurred to me his father and his job were his mistresses."

  I stare at the salt-lipped margarita sitting in front of me before taking a giant gulp.

  "We've been growing apart for a long time. I'm an idiot for not seeing it coming before last night... for acting like I had no clue that we were in trouble. I mean, for Christ's sake, who hires someone to investigate the person they love?"

  I take another giant gulp. On a roll, I continue, and Ryker sits quietly by, nonjudgmentally listening.

  "I've been bothered all day long by how attracted I am to you..." I clear my throat and try to put my feelings into words. "I mean... I wouldn't be attracted to any other man if I loved Colt like I claim to love him. That's when it hit me. Our separation has been so slow and so gradual that I didn't see it when it happened. Don't get me wrong. I love him... but it's not the way I should love him... or should have loved him. I'm as much to blame for all of this as he is."

  When I gulp down the last of my drink, Ryker asks, "Another?"

  As a wave of exhaustion—mental and physical—hits me, I shake my head. "No. I'd like to take a long hot bath and have a nap before we go out tonight. I hope you don't mind."

  "Not at all." Ryker stands, reaches out, and takes my hand.

  He and I walk hand in hand back to my room. He uses his card key and opens my door.

  "Call me when you're ready," he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my head.

  I nod. "I will."

  In the room and by myself, I strip and head toward the bathroom. I draw a scalding hot bath and step into it and sink beneath it, holding my breath and wishing away the last twenty-four hours of hurt, betrayal, and disappointment. I stay below the water until my lungs burn for a fresh breath.

  Popping up, I take several long, deep breaths before scrubbing my body, washing my hair, and lying back to relax. Calming me into sedation is the hot water and the cucumber melon fragrance saturating the bathroom. Before I fall asleep, I drag myself out of the tub, brush through my hair, and climb into the bed.

  * * *

  In a faraway dream, I hear a knock on the door. I moan with the realization that my head aches, my neck is stiff, my shoulder blades feel bruised, and my fingers are tingling.

  Surely I'd remember if I'd been plowed into by a Mack truck.

  "Baylee, can you tell me what's wrong?" Ryker says quietly, tenderly.

  I slit one eye and see that he's kneeling next to my bed. I try to shake my head, but my neck revolts.

  "My neck and upper back are on fire. I feel like I've been in a car accident," I mumble before my eyes pop closed of their own volition. "I-I just need to sleep. I'll be better after I rest. Do you mind if we miss supper?"

  Ryker chuckles. "Since it's midnight, I believe it's okay."

  My eyes bounce open. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

  "I'm worried about you, Bay. I don't want to leave you by yourself," Ryker says.

  I scoot over and pat the bed next to me. I hear his shoes hit the floor when he takes them off. Then he climbs in the bed with me—under the covers—and pulls me over until my cheek is resting on this chest.

  "Thanks," I say.

  "For what?"

  "For being there for me when no one else was. It means a lot to me, and I want you to know that," I say, yawning like I haven't been asleep for hours.

  "You know... I've been thinking about how I was there last night even though I wasn't supposed to be. The business meeting I was supposed to be at got cancelled, and I had a few minutes to kill before going to that party. If I had been at that business meeting, I wouldn't have been there for you. The thought of where you would've been... or what you might have done last night scares me, Bay. You want everyone to think you're so strong, but I see the person you keep hidden deep inside, the one who can be easily broken, the one who was broken last night."

  I don't say anything. I'm groggy, but not too groggy to know Ryker is right. I've known for a long time that I'm a lot like my mother. Too much like her. I'm not sure what broke my mother's heart and caused her to commit suicide, but I know there are people in the world who can push me to that point... and if Ryker hadn't been there last night, Colt's leaving me might have unleashed the woman inside of me that would have convinced me there is a way to ease the pain.

  "M-my mother committed suicide when I was ten years old. I still remember it." I laugh sardonically. "I'll never forget it. My dad was in Africa. Nothing came before Doctors without Borders. One of our neighbors was a high school art teacher who taught summer classes at her house. I rode my bike to my lesson and stayed longer than normal because I was finishing a picture that I'd made especially for my mother, hoping it would make her happy again. When I got home, the house was empty. I, carrying the drawing I'd made of me and my mother holding hands, wandered through the house, calling for her, going room to room."

  I feel the warm tear as
it drips from the corner of my eye and soaks into Ryker's shirt.

  "I found her in the tub. Her wrists were slit. She was floating beneath the water diluted with every ounce of her blood. I screamed until I passed out. I don't know who found me, but I do know I was in such shock that it took weeks for me to utter the first word. My father came back from Africa immediately. He was so worried about me that he slept on the floor of my room, holding my hand, every night until I turned thirteen. He sees her in me. That's why he's coming back from Africa this weekend."

  Ryker and I are silent. The only sounds in the room are those of our slow, steady, and completely awake breaths.

  Finally, Ryker says, "Do you remember when I told you about James?"

  "The man who single-handedly saved your mother?"

  Ryker laughs. "He'd loved to hear someone describe him like he's a hero, but yes, that James."

  I nod.

  "Well, I remember how desperate I was that night. I was angry at the world because I was convinced there were people who could help but those same people were going to stand by and watch her die, refuse to lift a hand to help a maid because she wasn't rich or famous or someone who mattered to anyone but me.

  "At the moment when I was the most desperate, James pulled into that hotel. He's told me a million times that he'd never stayed at that hotel in his life... that he always stayed at another hotel. That night he made an exception. That night he met me. If James had gone to the other hotel, he would never have known about my mother, and we never would have gotten the help we needed to save her life.

  "In some ways, I think my meeting got cancelled last night so I could be there for you much the way James has been there for me and my mother for the last ten years.

  "I want you to stop fighting this thing between me and you. It's bigger than both of us, and I'm convinced there's a reason we met. I'm going to take care of you the way James took care of me. I'm doing it because I care for you... but I'm also doing it in order to pay respects for what James did for me. Soon, you'll have your own person who will need to be rescued. When you find them, you'll do everything in your power to help them. That's how this works, Bay," Ryker says.

  "Ryker?" I whisper and it echoes through the quiet room.

  "Hm?"

  "I'm glad it was you who was sent to help me through all of this. I think you're a very kind person with a good heart. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't helped me, but I can tell you what I'm not going to do because of you," I say, and Ryker hugs me tight.

  CHAPTER 10

  AVENGING ANGEL

  Baylee

  The next morning, I wake and Ryker has me hugged into his chest like he's afraid to let me go. He's dead to the world, and I can honestly say more beautiful when he's peacefully sleeping than when he's awake and acting as my avenging angel.

  While he rests, I think about all of the personal facts he shared with me... I shared with him. I've never told anyone anything about my mother. That moment of disclosure is a reminder for me of how much I trust Ryker. He and I may have only known each other for a few days, but he's filled a void I didn't even know existed. With him and in him, I realize that I can never again be with a man that I don't unconditionally trust. Colt will never be that person for me.

  Ryker shifts the tiniest bit. When I try to accommodate his new position, my necks burns and the fire travels to my shoulder blades and sends a numbing sensation all the way down to my fingertips.

  Holy hell! Why does my neck hurt like this?

  Without meaning to, I moan and try repositioning my head. Ryker is instantly awake and concerned for me.

  "What's wrong, Bay? Did I hurt you?"

  I'm holding my neck and messaging it. The muscles beneath my fingers are spasming and throbbing. I'm flipping through the events of the last twenty-four hours and trying to pinpoint anything that would have caused my neck to hurt like this.

  Ohhhh!

  "I-I think when Colt shook me yesterday, he gave me whiplash," I explain to Ryker after putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

  Ryker is very gentle as he twists from beneath me, studying every hair on my head. He may be gentle with me, but I can see the rage in his eyes. If Colt were here, he'd punch him again.

  "Flip onto your stomach," Ryker orders.

  I decide not to challenge him. His mood is sour enough. I turn over and spread my arms out by my head. Ryker straddles my rear but doesn't put an ounce of pressure on me. The next thing I know, he's reaching under my stomach and loosening the tie to my robe. Once it's unfastened, he slips the collar down until he has open access to my neck and my upper back—all the way down to the bottom of my shoulder blades. I don't move.

  I trust him.

  The second he begins massaging me, I relax. I've never felt anything so wonderful in my life. He kneads and rubs and rubs and kneads every tiny and aching muscle until I'm sure they'll never be more malleable. Soon, my symptoms have disappeared.

  I'm shocked back to reality when Ryker leans down and kisses my neck in the exact place where he'd just been kneading it.

  "If you're not a massage therapist, you have missed your calling," I sing. "I've never felt so peaceful in my entire life."

  Ryker laughs. "You're the only person I'd want to give massages to. Besides, I had an ulterior motive. This lets me touch you in places that might otherwise be off-limits."

  A second later, he slides the robe back up on my shoulders, ties it back together, and twists me until he and I are facing each other.

  "I have a surprise for you at nine... if you're up to it," he says, looking like a kid who wants me to beg for clues about his surprise.

  I glance at the clock. It's seven. "I'm absolutely up to it. Let me get dressed."

  As if he can't stop himself, he leans over and kisses me again. It's soft and warm and gentle... and makes my heart squeeze tight. I know he's holding back, and for now, I'm glad.

  "You haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Meet me in my room after you're dressed, and we'll have breakfast before we go," Ryker says before I climb out of the bed.

  He doesn't jump up and rush out. Instead, he puts his hands behind his head and rests like he's preparing to stare up at the clouds on a beautiful sunny day... only I'm the view he appreciates.

  "Stop watching me," I demand.

  "I can't. You're too beautiful for me to take my eyes off," he says, giving me one of his now infamous winks.

  I ignore him and head toward the bathroom, closing the door behind me. After I look in the mirror and see that my hair is wiry and rippled from going to sleep with it wet, I hop in the shower for a quick rinse. This time, I'm not sedated by the warm water and the melony scent of all the soap.

  What a difference a day makes.

  After a night with Ryker, the world doesn't look so bleak. I hum contentedly throughout my entire shower, and I sing out loud while I put on my makeup and blow-dry my hair until its silky straight.

  I throw the robe back on so I can go back into the room and retrieve the clothes I wore the day before. Ryker only bought gowns and none of them would be suitable for a day of San Antonio fun.

  In the closet hangs an entire wardrobe of clothes (play clothes, exercise outfits, pajamas, swimsuits, work clothes...).

  What the hell?

  Since I can't find my sun dress from yesterday, I have few options but to grab a pair of petite white shorts and a breezy navy blouse. There are dozens of shoes at the bottom of the closet. Again, I can't find the ones I wore the day before, so I pick up a pair with a nautically themed anchor as part of the strap. Even irritated by the new wardrobe, I have to admit my outfit—all of my new outfits—perfectly fit my personality.

  I knock on the door separating my room from Ryker's and paint a scowl on my face. I can tell when he opens it he was prepared for my wrath.

  "What in the hell have you done? I'm not destitute. I have clothes. I just don't have them hundreds of miles away from my apartment," I scold.

&nbs
p; He flashes me his angelic grin and says, "It makes me happy to buy things for you." He steps back and takes in my clothes. "They're perfect."

  I roll my eyes at him and head into his room. He has a giant buffet spread out on a breakfast table that has been set up especially for him. The only thing missing is the Cristal, and I'm glad I don't need his special remedy today.

  My stomach growls as soon as the aroma of bacon, eggs, waffles, sausage, and toast wafts its way over to me.

  Looking every ounce the Ralph Lauren model he could be, Ryker casually sits back down and picks up his newspaper. Then he glances up at me and says, "Eat."

  He doesn't have to ask twice. I'm starved. A giant cup of coffee, one waffle, a half of a boiled egg, and a piece of sausage later, I can't eat another bite.

  Ryker's eyes twinkle with excitement. "Are you ready to go, Bay?"

  "I am."

  I can't help but be as excited as him. He's gone to a lot of trouble for his surprise. I know it means a lot to him for me to like it.

  He takes me by the hand, and we leave the hotel room. We stand side by side in the elevator as we head out on our adventure. As soon as we exit the hotel's lobby (the back way because that's where the Riverwalk is), an older gentleman approaches Ryker.

  "Mr. Russell, your boat is waiting for you," he says, bowing his greying head reverently Ryker's way.

  "Thank you, Captain Stan," Ryker says politely.

  Shocked, I glance up at Ryker. I told him the evening before that a boat tour was the only way to see the walk, and now, he's gifting me the chance I missed a few weeks ago with Sabrina. I squeeze Ryker's hand tight and hope he knows how much I appreciate his gesture. He holds on to my hand tighter.

  We follow Captain Stan over to his boat. The river is narrow, which means the boats allowed on it have to be relatively small. That doesn't matter to him. He's a captain who is as proud of his vessel as the captain of a giant cruise ship would be.

  Ryker climbs on board before reaching back and helping me. Ryker and I are directed toward a bench seat, and after we are seated and looking out from the boat toward all of the giant buildings, Captain Stan revs the motor and begins his very slow and absolutely interesting tour of the San Antonio Riverwalk and the buildings, monuments, and history lining the area.