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Did that man say something horrible?
Did you go home with some random person you met in the bathroom line again? Jesus Christ, Sydney, I’ll never let you live it down.
Please just let me know you’re not dead. Who’s going to help me pick up girls? You’re the Barney to my Ted, the—
“Who is it?” Ronan interrupts as I read the long string of texts, his voice clipped.
I shoot him a scowl before going back to my phone.
I’m okay,I type back.I had to get out of there. I’m safe, I promise.
“Sydney.” Ronan snaps, his elbow slamming against the table. I look around, ensuring no one notices my ill-behaved friend. It’s one thing to be running from the law, apparently. It’s entirely another to act foolish in the middle of a diner full of drunk college kids. I’d look so uncool, and that just won’t fly.
“It’s my best friend. He was there and saw me leave.”
He rolls his eyes. “Did Jeremy know he was there with you?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe? If he’s an agent worth anything, he probably knows. Adam was with me the entire time we were at the funeral. He followed us to the club but stayed his distance.”
Ronan nods, looking at his own phone he holds in his lap. I try not to notice how tight his shirt is, his stomach muscles rippling as he rolls his eyes in irritation.
“What’s going to happen now?” I ask him, biting my nail before picking up another fry.
He sighs, closing his eyes as he massages his temples. “I need to make sure that no one is coming for you, and that includes Jeremy.”
I look around the busy diner. “Does that mean I can go home?”
That’s all I want to do right now. It’s been a long day and an even longer week. The only thing I want to do right now is go home, get in the bath, and curl up with Shiloh before falling asleep for the next two days.
Not that I have that luxury. My boss wants me in the office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow; dead parental figures be damned.
“You can go home for the moment,” he tells me sharply, back to looking at his phone. His wavy black hair falls into his face as his face twists in concentration. He scrolls briefly before biting his lip, his nose scrunching at whatever he’s reading. The freckles that dot his nose are cute, but his attitude is atrocious.
Usually, I wouldn’t give men with no facial hair a second glance, but something about him makes me stop and look. Really look.
“We should get you home soon, though,” he sighs when he finally looks up, meeting my eyes.
I nod, placing a twenty on the table and climbing out of the booth.
My feet hurt like a bitch in these heels, and my shoulders desperately need to be rubbed. I stretch, yawning as Ronan follows close behind. I feel the heat of his body on my back, the brush of his suit jacket on my arm as he puts it on.
“Are you okay?” he asks as I stop for a moment, fidgeting with my shoe.
I wave him off. “Yeah, these heels are just killing me.”
He nods, taking the lead as I thank our waitress on the way out.
The October air hits my face, nipping at my skin. Although being kidnapped in the middle of a date—if you can call it that—has sobered me up, I can’t help but feel the alcohol hit me once again the second the fall air nips at my skin.
“Do you need help?” Ronan asks, his brow arched.
I shake my head, but after taking another step, my ankle seems to have other ideas. I groan, adjusting my shoe again.
“Give them to me.” He says as he steps in front of me, reaching for them.
I gape. “I’m not walking barefoot in the city. Do you know how many people spit on these sidewalks? It’s a lot.”
He pauses, looking at me like I’m crazy. “That’s what you’re worried about stepping on? Spit? Not needles or glass or other, I don’t know, rats?” I don’t like the judgment in his tone, but the second I open my mouth, he cuts me off. “We’re going five steps and waiting for an Uber.” He seems angry, and that makes me happy for some sick and twisted reason.
