Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

RYLEE

T he next morning, I got out of bed around eleven. I didn't get home until after three. Twelve hours on my feet had wiped me out. I put on my slippers, fluffy bear-claw-looking things that I thought were adorable, and followed the scent of coffee downstairs. I needed a lot of caffeine. My eyes were burning and scratching from the lack of sleep.

I stumbled downstairs in my sleep shorts and tank, hoping none of my friends' husbands or fiancés were in the house. I was too tired to care if they saw my butt hanging out. It wasn't like I didn't wear similar outfits when I was wearing a bikini.

The coffee pot was full when I made it into the kitchen. I grabbed my favorite mug that had the dumbest looking llama driving a car on it, another gift from my roommates. Without paying attention, I dumped in the God awful pumpkin spice creamer that I used because it was there. I hated pumpkin spice, but Karen loved it—gag.

With cup in hand, I walked into the living room and found Karen sitting on the couch scrolling through social media. She barely looked up at me. "Late night?"

"I think I went to bed at four."

"I don't know how you do it," she said with a shake of her head.

Karen was already showered and dressed for the day, wearing one of her cute but a little too vanilla outfits.

"I'm a night owl," I replied. "Always have been. Yesterday was just a really long day."

"How was the fundraiser?"

"Wild," I answered. "You will never believe who showed up at the bar."

Intrigued, Karen looked up from her phone, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Who?"

I pointed to the magazine with his face on it that was still sitting on the coffee table. "Him."

"Him, who?" she asked with confusion.

"Mr. Locke himself," I announced, watching for her reaction.

Karen's mouth fell open, a tiny gasp escaping her. "The billionaire oil guy? No way!"

I nodded, smirking at her look of surprise. "Yep."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Unfortunately," I muttered.

"What are you talking about!" She jumped up and stared down at me. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"I'm not." I laughed. "He was there. All rich and hot and bossy."

"You served him?"

"I kind of had to." I shrugged. "He was an asshole, just like everyone said."

"What did he say?"

"He called the bar a shithole."

"It is a shithole," she replied.

"But it's rude to say that. And he asked why I was working there like it was some horrible fate I had to endure."

"I can't believe he went to your bar. Was he there for the fundraiser? That should have been on the advertising. People, including those with deep pockets, would have shown up just for the chance to rub elbows with him."

"He wasn't there for the fundraiser." I stopped to think about it for a second. "I really don't know why he was there. It was like he just stumbled in. But he did donate."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep." I nodded. "A fat check."

"How much was the check for?" Karen asked, clearly enthralled by Simon Locke's impromptu and unexpected appearance.

I took a sip of my coffee. I still couldn't believe it myself. "A hundred thousand dollars."

Karen's mouth fell open. "No way!"

"I know. I know! It's crazy, right? Out of nowhere, he just handed me the check and told me to give it to them. By the time I'd processed the number of zeroes at the end, he was gone. Poof." I held up my hands and widened my fingers, mimicking him disappearing into thin air. "That's enough money for them to host their Christmas Eve banquet for the next eight years!"

Karen shook her head in amazement. "That's insanely generous. What a guy. And to not even be asked and just do it out of the goodness of his own heart?"

I shook my head, doubting the notion. "I'm not sure that's why he did it. I doubt a guy like him has much goodness in his heart. He probably expects to get something in return for it."

Karen rolled her eyes at me. "You're being jaded. But I guess you usually have good intuition about this kind of thing. Still, he's an insanely wealthy oil and gas businessman. A hundred grand to us is pennies to him."

I sighed, knowing she had a point but unable to shake my suspicion. "I know, but still," I started, setting my empty coffee mug on the table. "The way he just handed it over, no emotion, no fanfare. It was odd."

"That's probably how he handles all his business," Karen mused, seemingly lost in thought. "Detached and cold. But hey, whatever his reasons were, that money is going to do a lot of good."

"I hope so." I sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions.

A silence fell between us as we both contemplated the implications of Mr. Locke's generous donation.

"Do you know how much the fundraiser took in?" she asked.

"No. It was crazy busy. I was supposed to be off at eight. I got sucked into staying. The fundraiser was supposed to be over at eight, but people stuck around and then we had the usual weekend night rush. None of us got the chance to breathe."

"That sounds exhausting," Karen sympathized.

"It was," I replied, rubbing my temples. "But I guess it was worth it, especially with that check from Locke. And I made some killer tips."

"The world works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?" she said with a laugh.

I nodded and took another drink. "That it does."

We lapsed into silence once more, the whole interaction with Simon Locke still replaying vividly in my mind. His cold demeanor, the dismissive way he handed over the check like it was nothing more than a piece of scrap paper. It was so strange. And the way he was showing interest. Why would a man like him be interested in me?

"Do you think you'll see him again?" Karen asked.

I scoffed. "No. Definitely not. I think he stumbled into the bar by accident. He probably won't even remember where it was."

After finishing our coffees, we moved to the kitchen to clean our mugs and the dishes from yesterday. Normally, the dishwasher would be full after a meal. But with just the two of us, it took a couple of days to fill up the dishwasher.

I turned to Karen as we worked. "So, how's work?"

Karen heaved a dramatic sigh. "I'm itching for a change. My uncle pitched me an idea that I'm chewing on. But it's a big change."

I leaned against the counter, curiosity piqued. "Oh? Care to share?"

Karen hesitated before responding. "I'd have to go to Kentucky for a little while."

My stomach dropped. "How long?" I asked, the thought of being alone in the Big House unsettling. Karen and I had grown so much closer since Mary Ellen moved in with Archer. Now that it was just the two of us, the house felt massive. There were three empty bedrooms upstairs. One we had intended to use as a home gym but hardly did, another was full of storage boxes we should get rid of, and the third was just empty space. I didn't want to think about a fourth empty bedroom. I wasn't sure how I would handle being alone. The space was too big for the two of us. Living here alone was ridiculous.

Karen saw the worry on my face and quickly reassured me. "Don't worry. I'm just thinking about it. No decisions have been made. Besides, it's on a ranch. Not my speed. I'm not big on dirt and horses and cow poop."

I laughed. "You're a city girl."

"Yes, I am."

But despite her saying she wasn't interested, I could see it in her eyes. She was thinking about it. She wanted to go. "I've got to get to work," she said. "I'll see you later."

"Later," I said.

I tried to shake off the feeling of the walls closing in on me. Everyone seemed to be moving on except for me. The silence of the house felt deafening. A year ago, I would have loved the chance to have an hour in the house alone.

I went upstairs to grab my laptop and came back to sit at the table. I stared at the screen for a long moment before finally taking a deep breath and searching for tickets to Europe. I wasn't rich and needed to find the cheapest ticket I could.

As I scrolled through the countless options, my mind began to wander. Maybe this was what I really needed, a change of scenery, a brush with a different culture, an escape from the mundane. England, Italy, Spain. They all seemed enticing in their own ways, but which one should I pick? And how long would I be gone for?

After spending a good hour or two on the internet, comparing prices and reading up on the different cities each country had to offer, I finally took the plunge and bought a one-way ticket to Europe. It was time to stop dilly-dallying and daydreaming. Time to do the damn thing. I could dream about it all day, or I could make it happen. I was the master of my future. I chose how to spend my money.

As the confirmation email popped up in my inbox, I felt a mix of excitement and fear. I had talked about this trip for so long, but now it was real. I was actually going to leave, to make some memories of my own. I tried to imagine the adventures that awaited me in Europe—the sights, the sounds, the people. If I happened to find a sexy Italian man or a big, burly Scot, even better.

I spent the next hour researching hostels and budget-friendly travel tips, feeling a spark of excitement I hadn't felt in a long time. The house felt less oppressive with every click.

My phone buzzed with a message from Karen, a photo of a sunset over a dusty field. "This is what I'd be trading city life for," she wrote in the caption.

I smiled and sent back a thumbs-up emoji, feeling a bit more at ease with her possible departure. She needed a change, just like I did. How weird would it be if we both went on our big adventures at the same time?

After spending a couple of hours doing nothing, I got dressed and ready for another day at work. Today's outfit was black leather pants, a black sheer shirt, and a sexy bra underneath. I put my hair up in a messy bun and slapped on my red lipstick.

I got to the bar a little early. I wanted to double-check on the fundraiser's proceeds. When I walked in, the bar was already buzzing with the usual mix of regulars and new faces. The familiar smell of chicken wings and vodka greeted me, and the rock music playing in the background made me feel at home.

"Rylee!" One of the regulars, Dave, waved me over. "Heard about last night. That true? Simon Locke himself was here?"

I nodded, still a bit in disbelief myself. "Yep. And he dropped a hundred grand on the fundraiser."

Dave let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's something. You got the magic touch, girl."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Just doing my job."

As I made my way to the back office, I overheard snippets of conversations about Simon Locke's visit. It seemed like everyone had their own version of the story, each one more exaggerated than the last. I couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. In the office, I found the fundraiser organizer, Beth, sorting through donation envelopes.

"Hey, Beth," I greeted her. "Just wanted to check in and see how we did."

Beth looked up with a tired but happy smile. "We did amazing, Rylee. Thanks in no small part to that check you handed over. I still can't believe it."

"Yeah, me neither," I admitted, sitting down across from her. "But I'm glad it's going to a good cause."

We talked for a while about the plans for the Christmas Eve event. I felt a sense of pride knowing I had played a part in making it happen. As I left the office and headed back to the bar, I thought about Simon Locke again. Despite my reservations about his motives, I couldn't deny that his donation had made a huge difference. Maybe he wasn't so evil.