“Are you okay?” His voice is husky, sending another shiver down my spine.
I nod, my gaze locked on his, drowning in the intensity I find there. A jolt of fear shoots through me as I remember my friend. “What about Alex?” I ask, my voice tinged with worry.
Ryder’s expression softens. “She’s okay,” he says. “She wasn’t hurt just a little shaken. The crowd has gone away. She’s safe.”
Relief washes over me, but confusion follows. “What happened in there?” My voice comes out shaky and barely recognizable. I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure.
“An over-enthusiastic fan broke the window,” Ryder explains, his thumb stroking my wrist where he still holds it.
I shake my head, trying to understand. “What do you mean?”
“Paparazzi got a tip that some movie star was buying a wedding dress at the store. Everyone wanted to be the one to get the scoop on the star about to get married. One of the fans crossed the line and threw a rock at the window, shattering it.”
The reality of what just happened crashes over me, and my heart rate spikes again. I take a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry,” Ryder says, his voice laced with self-recrimination. “I should have gotten you out of there the moment I saw them arriving. But the crowd gathered so fast. I didn’t realize this was going to happen.”
“You saved me,” I whisper back, meeting his gaze.
“No.” He shakes his head, jaw clenching.
“You got me out of there. You protected me.”
His expression hardens. “That’s my job, Cora. And they weren’t looking for you. Once they realized you weren’t the star they were after, they left.”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I lower my hands from him, suddenly aware of how close we are.
It’s his job.
He’s not here because he cares about me or even likes me. He’s here because he was hired to be here. Because he was hired to protect me. To risk his life for me. The moment my father stops paying him, he’ll leave without looking back.
I’m building castles in the air and fantasizing aboutsomeone who just wants to do his job. I don’t know what I was thinking; this isn’t like me at all.
“I want to go home,” I say, turning my head and straightening up in the car seat, trying to put some distance between us.
“Cora,” he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. I won’t cry in front of him. “Take me home, please.”
The drive home is silent, tension thick in the air. When we arrive, Ryder parks in the driveway and comes around to open my door. He offers his hand to help me out, and despite my better judgment, I take it. His skin is warm against mine, and I have to stop myself from falling into his arms, seeking comfort I have no right to ask for.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks, his voice gentle.
I want to say no, that I don’t need his professional concern, that I’m fine. But the thought of being alone in this big, empty house after what just happened makes my chest tighten with anxiety.
“Yes,” I admit, hating how vulnerable I sound.
He nods, leading me to the door. I fumble with the keys, my hands still shaking, and he takes them from me to unlock it himself. As we step inside, the familiar surroundings of my home do little to calm my nerves.
“Can I get you something?” Ryder turns off the alarm.
“Tea,” I respond, my voice small.
He nods and heads to the kitchen, the sound of opening cabinets filling the silence. I sink onto the couch, covering my face with my hands as the events of the day replay in my mind.
“What if the incident at the store wasn’t an accident?” I say, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me.
Ryder pauses, turning to face me with a concerned expression. “What do you mean?”
