I'm looking up at the Nix Hospital and wondering how that building could look so one-dimensional. It's as if it were a door into a storybook where you open it and find room after room that couldn't possibly exist within the tall flat building overlooking the river. I'm about to say something to Ryker about it when I glance over and notice him staring at me with the same degree of awe that I was just giving to the unbelievable hospital.
Suddenly shy, I close my eyes and put my chin to my shoulder. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
Ryker leans into my ear and whispers, "I've already told you that I can't stop looking at you. You are too beautiful, and I know our day is slowly but surely coming to an end. I want to close my eyes tonight and recall your every perfect dimple."
I shake my head. "I'm a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them," I say, honestly, refocusing on the city's architecture.
"I disagree with you. I think you're just about as perfect as they come, Bay," Ryker says, kissing my cheek.
When he does, it's all I can do not to turn into his kiss and let our lips meet. Instead, I lean into his gaze and let it linger, enjoying his warm breath and glorious cucumber and melon scent. Soon, Captain Stan is drawing our attention back to a famous waddling duck and her quacking babies that are following close behind her.
Ryker must have rented Captain Stan's boat for the whole morning because we travel the entire Riverwalk dozens of time. Each time, we see something new. By the end of our time, Ryker has asked enough questions of Captain Stan for us to know he is the father of five, the grandfather of seventeen, and the great-grandfather of three. He is a retired school teacher who grew up in San Antonio and went to work making his dreams come true the day he retired by becoming a Riverwalk tour guide. He is as kind as he is dramatic... and is obviously loved as a tour guide given the shouts, whistles, and waves the other guides—on their own boats—offer to him throughout the morning.
Finally, Ryker gives my hand a final squeeze. "Why don't we go for a walk... check out the Alamo before we have to leave?"
I look sadly toward Captain Stan—hating to leave him and his wonderful stories—and nod. He grins at me and winks. "You'll love the city, amigo."
After we're off the boat and heading toward the Alamo, I say, "You have really changed the way this weekend could have gone for me. The boat tour was amazing."
"I'm glad you liked it."
"Are you kidding me? I loved it."
A few minutes later, we make our way through enough crowds to see the Alamo. It is an architecturally interesting building that is built of white stones and has two columns on each side of the dark-brown, arched door.
Acting like the tourists we are, Ryker and I stand appreciating every last detail of the building and the area surrounding it while the historian dramatically parts with interesting facts about the famous day and bloody battle.
As soon as the crowds overtake the area, Ryker pulls me toward him and says, "Let's get a bite to eat before we leave."
The thought of leaving this place and the memories I've made here makes me sad. Ryker notices.
"What's wrong, Bay?" he asks, wrinkling his forehead.
I shrug. "Nothing. I've just been enjoying our day. That's all."
"If I didn't have an important business dinner to go to, we could stay until tonight, but I have something I need to do for James."
"We have to go home sometime... I suppose," I say dreamily.
Ryker puts the back of my hand to his mouth and kisses me. "I suppose."
After we eat, we're back in Ryker's car and heading toward Houston. I'm concerned about the closet full of clothes we left behind, even though Ryker assured me they would be delivered to my house tonight. I make a mental note to fight for a full refund if they don't make it back to Houston.
As has become customary, Ryker holds my hand the entire way, periodically lifting my knuckles to his mouth and kissing them. When he does that, I have to think long and hard about anything but the way his kiss travels from my hand all the way to the bottom of my stomach in a way that makes me think there's a direct connection.
As soon as we hit Houston's Sunday traffic, Ryker breaks the comfortable silence. "Don't forget that you promised to go to a dinner party with me on Thursday."
"I haven't. What time should I be ready?"
"Is seven too soon?"
"No... that's perfect," I say, wanting to ask him if I'll see him before then.
As if he can read my mind, he says, "I'm not sure if I'll be able to see you any earlier in the week. I'm here on business. I'm not sure what that means just yet. I'll know more after tomorrow."
"I think you've babysat me enough for the last few days. I'll be fine on my own," I assure him.
"You say that... but I'll still worry."
I lean over to Ryker and kiss him on the jaw. "Don't worry. I'll call you if I need you. I promise."
He turns his head and kisses me on the lips (while we are speeding down the freeway) before turning back toward the road.
"That's what has me worried. You'll never admit that you need anyone."
I laugh. "You're probably right. Why don't I promise to call you every night even if I don't need you?"
Ryker nods. "That sounds like a good compromise."
Pulling into my parking garage, Ryker says, "I'm going to walk you up to your apartment. Then I need to go. I'm already going to be late for my meeting."
"Why don't you just drop me off?"
"I want to make sure that asshole ex-boyfriend of yours isn't there. I'm going to send someone by tomorrow to change the locks."
I think about what he's said and wonder why it's not occurred to me that I might need to change the locks, that the apartment is no longer Colt's, too. Then I remember how angry Colt was the day before and how he hurt me. He's never laid a hand on me before that moment.
Where did that come from?
I hate knowing I'm afraid of him now.
Seconds later, Ryker pulls his Bugatti into one of the open parking spots before saying. "Stay there. I'll come around."
He gets out and strolls around to my side of the car before opening my door and putting his hand out to help me out. As soon as I'm upright and face to face with him, he leans down and kisses me. It's long and hard, but he doesn't pull me into him.
He's hoarse when he says, "I've wanted to do that since you kissed me while I was driving."
I'm breathless when I say, "I've been wanting you to do that since then."
Ryker raises his brows. "You never cease to amaze me, Bay."
I laugh as he reconnects our fingers and drags me behind him toward the elevator in a way that tells me he's anxious for us to be in the privacy of my apartment. As if Ryker has special powers and the gods are shining on us, it opens as soon as we get close. A man I've not seen before exists without glancing our way.
Inside the elevator, Ryker and I are alone, and we still have the hormones from our earlier kiss pumping through our veins, and we're both anxious about being away from one another.
Forty-eight hours of having a person with you non-stop will do that to you.
I can tell by the way he looks at me he wants to kiss again... that he's longing for us to kiss again. Just as the door closes, I nod and Ryker has me pinned against the wall of the elevator. He cups my ass in his hands and pushes himself between my open legs that are suddenly hooked all the way around him.
He's sliding one of his hands along my side and up toward my breast—Dear God, I need him to touch me there—when the elevator door pings, letting us know we're about to have company. Ryker groans, and I drop back to the ground. We're both breathing like we've just run the hundred yard dash.
After the newest passenger joins us and is facing the front of the elevator and reading a message on his phone, I glance up and see the heated way Ryker's staring at me. The determination in his eyes to finish what we've just started makes my chest squeeze and burn and the lowest part of my belly ache for him
. Silently consenting, I squeeze myself into him and rest my head on his shoulder, seductively kissing his neck.
When I do, his breath hitches, and he plays along by gliding his hand up the back of my shirt, rubbing my spine with his fingertips and teasing the hook of my bra. Assuming he's about to unhook it and expose my breast to his touch, chills cover me and I shiver.
To my dismay, this man is one of my neighbor's visitors, which means he stays on the elevator with us the entire time. His presence prevents our foreplay from progressing. As soon as the 25 lights up and the door opens for us to exit, Ryker drags me behind him and toward my apartment. I can't help but giggle at his urgency.
A few steps before my door, Ryker's phone rings. It's an unusual ringtone, one that makes him immediately—anxiously—reach toward it. He glances at it and a frown of pure frustration crosses his face. "I can safely say I'm late for my meeting, and my tardiness has not gone unnoticed by James."
"I told you that you didn't have to walk me up."
Ryker grins his almost devilish grin. "If I'd have dropped you off, I'd have missed our time in the elevator. I don't care how pissed James is. That was worth every second of his wrath," he says before giving me one of the most disappointed looks I've ever seen. "Rain check on the rest?"
I grin. "Absolutely."
Suddenly, he's all business. "Now, open the door so I can search your apartment before I go."
I swing the door open, step to the side, and say, "It's all yours. Let me know what you find."
Five minutes later, he returns, and he is seething. "He's not here, but I have a feeling you're going to be shocked when you see that he took everything that wasn't nailed down.
My brows wrinkle. "What?"
I push past Ryker and go into my apartment.
Damn! He's right.
The only pieces of furniture left are the ones I purchased myself: a vintage desk near the kitchen where I keep my laptop and work papers, three barstools, and the entryway table. My remaining possessions are haphazardly strewn about on the floor and kitchen counters.
"You would think that since I didn't take his million-dollar check, he'd have left me with the furniture," I say with every ounce of the disillusionment I feel—in Colt, in the time I wasted decorating this apartment, in myself for not keeping the check so I wouldn't have to worry about money.
I already know I'll find a mattress and box springs upstairs since I bought them, but I go up anyway. For some unexplainable reason, I need to see if Colt's as petty as this makes him seem. While I wish he'd have proved me wrong, he didn't. He took everything but the clothes that were in the dresser and the bare mattress, even taking the sheets, blankets, and covers.
Speechless and knowing what I'm going to find, I open my closet. He's taken every piece of clothing and every pair of shoes he's ever bought me. Of course, that means my extensive collection of Christian Louboutins is missing. Only an affluent attorney could afford those shoes, and I'm nothing more than a nurse on assignment as a consultant.
I lean against the doorjamb and murmur, "It looks like it's a good thing you bought me those clothes after all."
Ryker pulls me into his arms from behind and says into my ear, "Bay, this is just further proof that he's an asshole who isn't nearly good enough for you."
When Ryker's phone chimes again, I turn toward him and say, "Go! I'm fine. I've got plenty of things to keep me busy with all of the straightening and organizing I have ahead of me."
Ryker studies me carefully before saying. "Okay... I'm going, but I don't want you to take any calls from him or answer the door if he comes. Call me if you need me. I can be here in less than ten minutes."
I nod and go to work weeding through the mess I've been left with and deciding what's salvageable and what's a true casualty of Colt's vindictiveness.
Behind me, Ryker says, "I mean it. Call me if you need me."
"I will," I mumble.
A few seconds later, I hear the door downstairs close as he leaves. Without him watching me, I decide to take a few minutes to wander around the apartment and mentally inventory everything Colt has stripped from me—physically and emotionally.
The chaotic, empty, and echoing apartment suddenly becomes symbolic of the state of my relationship with Colt, a state I'd never have imagined possible before today.
I wipe a single tear from my cheek right before beginning the long and arduous chore of reorganizing each and every room and coming to terms with my new single and living alone status.
CHAPTER 11
THE PROPOSITION
Baylee
A few hours after I start, the house is as organized as it can be considering the fact that I have no place to store most of the books, lamps, and trinkets that are now lining the baseboards and window seats and acting as clear reminders that I'll have to get furniture.
Sooner rather than later.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The buzzing snaps me back to reality, and I skip over to the apartment building's monitoring system. It's one that allows me see who is downstairs while I talk to them.
Calling is a young man that I've never seen before. He has the phone to his ear and is anxiously looking around. He's not at all comfortable with the way I can see him, but he can't see me.
"Hello," I say.
"Hi, I'm Byron from Gowns and Shoes in San Antonio. I'm here to deliver your purchases from yesterday," he says in his most professional voice.
"Hi, Byron. There's a service elevator on the wall behind the phone you're using. If you'll take it up to the twenty-fifth floor, I'll meet you there in a few minutes."
Byron looks relieved. He's a fish out of water who seems to be happy his assignment is nearly complete. I watch as he hangs up the phone and wheels two carts filled with clothes and shoes past the camera.
Good Lord! How many clothes did Ryker buy?
Grabbing the keys to my apartment, I run out the door and toward the service elevator. It only takes a minute or two before the elevator doors are opening to Byron's fake smile, one he's plastered on as part of his good customer service pledge.
I reach my hand out to him. "Thank you so much for bringing these to me, Byron. I really appreciate it, and I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience."
Byron, the man who is built like a boxer and looks like he had his nose broke at least once, instantly relaxes and offers me a genuine grin and his own hand, shaking mine tightly.
"It hasn't been. My sister works there and thought I could use the extra money your boyfriend offered to pay me if I'd deliver them today."
I thought he looked familiar. The saleswoman from the day before must be his sister.
I bristle when he labels Ryker as my boyfriend. "Ryker's a very good friend who just happens to do everything excessively. Since I love the clothes your sister picked out, I refuse to complain about his extravagance," I say, laughing.
Byron smiles and looks at me in a new light, like I might be someone he'd consider dating. Shyly tucking my hair behind my ears, I turn away from him and head back to the apartment. I open the door, step inside, and wait while he wheels in the carts.
He looks around, inspecting the apartment.
"I'm redecorating," I offer as an excuse for the lack of furniture.
"It's beautiful," he says, studying every nook and cranny like it's completely furnished and decorated.
Finally, he asks, "Where would you like these?"
"Upstairs," I say, again leading the way as he follows close behind me with the carts.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stops to grab an armload of the bagged gowns. I help him by picking up as many shoe boxes as I can carry.
"I can get this," Byron says quickly.
"Follow me," I order over my shoulder, ignoring the fact that he's reluctant to accept my help.
Upstairs, I show him to my very empty closet. Colt took so many of my clothes that there is plenty of open space for us to stack boxes and hang the clothes. In the spirit of rol
ling my sleeves up, I work side by side with Byron emptying his racks. I've noticed that with every new load, he is more and more impressed with me and my willingness to help him.
After all the clothes are upstairs and my closet is completely packed, I walk Byron to the door and am reaching for my purse to give him a tip when he puts his hands up.
"Heck no! Mr. Russell already paid me, and I'm not sure he would be happy with the fact that you insisted on helping me do what he paid me to do."
I laugh. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," I say, winking conspiratorially at Bryon.
"Yeah... you're right, but I'm still not takin' your money. I hope you enjoy the clothes and that you'll recommend my sister to your friends if they ever go shopping in San Antonio. These kinds of commissions don't come around every day for her. She was so happy about it that she took my nephew and me out to dinner. Her treat," Byron says, and I can tell by the gleam in his eyes how proud he is of his sister.
I don't have any siblings, so the bond between them—any two siblings—is instantly intriguing for me.
"I certainly will. Thanks," I say, grateful I didn't make Ryker take all of the clothes back.
There is an entire working family basking off of his need to excessively spend his money.
After Byron leaves and while I watch him exit the building on the downstairs monitor, I pick up my phone to text Ryker. I'm disappointed when I realize I don't know his number. Then I glance next to my purse and see a note.
832-555-5555 Call me for anything.
Ryker
I punch his number in my phone and hit the message button.
Me: The clothes arrived. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to repay you for all you've done for me.
Ryker: You could repay me by letting me buy you all new furniture.
Me: I appreciate the offer, but no. Thank you. It's time for me to stand on my own two feet. I'll buy furniture when I can afford it. I never want to have to worry about someone taking everything away from me again.
Left (Still Standing, #1) Page 10