Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

RYLEE

I was wiping down one of the tables near the large TV hanging by the pool table when something caught my eye. I stepped closer and turned up the volume.

A reporter was standing in front of men wearing waders and orange shirts. The red ticker tape on the bottom of the screen announced an oil spill.

"Oh no, please don't be Simon's company."

And then it cut to a video of Simon, standing tall and composed, giving a press release amidst the chaos. What a mess. I could only imagine how much pressure he was under.

The look on his face revealed no emotion. Clearly, he was reading from a prepared speech. It was strange to see him in his suit and tie without that goofy smile I had gotten used to. The Simon on TV was not the man I knew. I could understand why some people thought he was a cold, callous asshole. He looked robotic on TV. Like he didn't have a soul.

But that wasn't the man I knew.

I went back behind the bar, glancing at the TV. I knew he was obviously busy, but I felt like I should reach out. I knew he didn't have anyone else. His family certainly wasn't going to be there for him. I pulled out my phone to shoot him a quick text. "I know you're probably up to your eyeballs in shit, but I'm here if you need anything. Good luck."

He didn't answer, which wasn't surprising. I put my phone back in the little cubby under the bar and got to work.

A couple of regulars sauntered in. The channel was changed to some sports show. I couldn't worry about Simon. Not that he needed me to worry. He was a capable man and had probably dealt with this kind of thing more than once.

The evening wore on, regulars popping in and out, keeping me busy enough to forget about Simon and his troubles. I had a brief lull and quickly grabbed my phone to see if he replied to my text. I wasn't surprised he didn't reply. I knew he was busy and wasn't going to take it personally.

Mike's shout from the back snapped me back to reality. "Rylee! Order up!"

I hoped he was okay. I knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but I really felt bad for the guy.

I busted ass all night, serving customers and doing my best to earn all the tips I could. By the end of the night, while counting my tips, I realized I had saved the lowest goal amount I had set for myself for my trip. It was a good thing too. I was leaving in a week, and it was coming up fast.

I chatted with some of my regulars as the night wound down.

"You're not really going to leave us, are you, Rylee?" one of the guys asked.

"I'm not just leaving, I'm running," I joked. "You'll have to find someone else to sling beer for you."

"But I only like the way you do it." He grinned.

"I guess you'll just have to not drink while I'm gone," I shot back, unable to keep the smile off my face.

He laughed, raising his glass for a good-natured toast. "We both know that is not going to happen."

A few of the other regulars joined him in toasting my pending departure. I blushed at the attention.

"You guys are silly," I said. "It's just beer."

"You know that's not true," he said. "Who's going to make all those fancy drinks?"

I laughed. "You guys always order the same thing anyway."

"But sometimes we like to change things up," he replied.

"No, you don't." I laughed. "I'm out of here. You guys behave."

I clocked out and grabbed my things before heading to my car. Just as I was about to start the engine, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Simon.

Yes.

I frowned as I read the message. "Yes? What does that mean?"

Before I could ask, another message came in.

I'll take you up on your offer. I do need something.

I stared at my phone, stunned. A man like him admitting he needed help?

I quickly texted him back. "Do you want to call me? I'm off work and headed home?"

"I have a car on the way to pick you up. Sleep on the way. You're going to need it."

Before I could process what he texted, a shiny black luxury sedan pulled up beside me, making me yelp in surprise.

At first, I thought the guy might just be parking or waiting for someone else. He got out of his car and knocked on my window. Normally, I would not roll down my window, but this felt weird.

"Yes?" I asked, rolling down the window.

"Hello, Rylee? I'm here to pick you up."

"Right now?" I asked with surprise.

"Yes, ma'am."

"But I don't have a bag," I said.

"Mr. Locke told me to pick you up and he would handle everything."

I wanted to argue and assert my independence but there was another part of me that wanted to get to him. I understood the urgency. He needed me. That feeling was hard to explain. Knowing Simon and who he was, for him to request my presence was pretty special.

"Is he at his office?" I asked.

"He's in Houston."

"That's what I thought." I sighed. "Okay."

I grabbed my purse and locked the door. The driver opened the back door for me. I climbed inside. There were blankets and pillows, snacks and drinks, and a tablet loaded with movies.

The driver got into the driver's seat and we were off. I still could not believe I was doing this. It wasn't totally out of my character, but I wouldn't normally do this for a man.

I grabbed one of the bottles of water and settled in for the nearly four-hour drive to Houston. I texted Karen, letting her know I wouldn't be home tonight. Hell, I wasn't even sure I would be home tomorrow. I truly had no idea what I was doing.

She texted back that I was crazy to get close to this oil-spill mess. I put my phone on silent, got comfy, and watched a movie to pass the time. I reached for one of the bags of chips and figured I may as well enjoy the luxury ride. I opened one of the cold beers, ate my Doritos, and watched a silly rom-com. I truly felt like I was thrust into the royal life.

The blanket and pillow made the ride even better. Eventually, I fell asleep.

I was woken by my door opening. "Are we here?" I asked with some confusion.

"We are." He smiled. "Can I help you out?"

"I'm good," I said, rubbing my eyes and trying to wake myself up.

I climbed out and looked around. I found myself at the front doors of a five-star hotel in downtown Houston.

"Everything you'll need for your time here has been picked up and delivered to your room."

"What I need?" I questioned.

"Clothes. Toiletries. If you need anything, the concierge will happily get it for you." He handed me a room key. "Can I get you anything else? Would you like me to escort you to your room?"

"No, thank you." I smiled. "I think I can handle it."

"Very good."

I looked down at my outfit, ripped jeans, a tiny tank that showed off my belly button, and my knee-high boots. This was not the kind of outfit one would wear to a hotel like this. But I was here.

I had no idea where Simon was. The driver said my room was ready. Was Simon putting me up in a hotel alone? I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I didn't just come all the way here to sit in a hotel room alone.

I walked into the opulent hotel. The place was very quiet. A large fountain in the center of the lobby greeted me. I looked around, taking it all in.

"Can I help you?" a woman behind the reception desk asked with a slightly judgmental tone.

"No, thank you."

"I'm sorry, but do you have a room here?"

I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I wasn't exactly a streetwalker, but I understood my outfit wasn't what she would normally see in here.

"I do." I walked to the desk and showed her the key. "Feel free to check it, and then if you could kindly point me to the right elevator, that'd be great."

Yes, I was a little snotty about it, but she deserved it. She shouldn't be so judgy. I handed her the key. She quickly scanned it and then looked at me, then her screen.

"You're Mr. Locke's…"

"Guest." I smiled. "Can I have my key now?"

"Yes, ma'am." She nodded, nearly swallowing her tongue. "I apologize for the misunderstanding."

"It's cool. Maybe don't judge a book by its cover next time."

"Of course." She nodded. "You'll find the elevator to the right. Your key will take you to the top floor."

I looked at the key in my hand. Top floor?

I played it cool. "Thank you."

I walked to the elevator and was required to use my key. The elevator went to the top floor just like she said. I stepped out into a hallway with two doors. I saw my room number and slid the key in. The door unlocked, and I stepped inside a dimly lit, gorgeous suite with dazzling views of Houston's city lights outside. And there, standing in front of one of the windows looking out at the city with his back to me, was Simon.

My breath hitched. Something wild was about to happen. I could feel it. I knew exactly what was going to happen. I think I knew it when I got into that car. I made the decision at that moment to get in the car knowing I was going to be seeing Simon away from my normal life. I wasn't na?ve or innocent. I knew exactly what was coming.

"Simon?" I called softly.

He turned around, his expression a mixture of relief and exhaustion. "Rylee. I'm glad you're here."

"I wasn't sure what to expect," I admitted, stepping further into the room. "This is…"

"Overwhelming?" he finished for me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I know. Trust me, I know. The last thing you want is to be connected to me."

"No, it's okay," I said quickly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Everything's a disaster. The spill, the media, the community? I just needed someone I could trust. Someone who isn't looking at me like I'm a monster."

I crossed the room to stand beside him, looking out at the city lights. "You're not a monster, Simon. You're doing everything you can to fix this."

"I'm trying," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it feels like it's not enough."

I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're doing what you can. And you're not alone."

He turned to face me fully, his eyes searching mine. "Thank you, Rylee. You have no idea how much that means to me."

We stood there for a moment. Then, in a swift motion, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. I could feel the tension in his body.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. There was something raw and vulnerable in his gaze, something I hadn't seen before. And then, slowly, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was gentle at first, a tentative brush of lips, but it quickly deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. I could taste the exhaustion and desperation on his lips but also a fierce need, a hunger that matched my own.