Once I’ve laid down, Ryland turns and walks from the room. His obligation to his pathetic tenant is complete. I try to prop the pillow behind me and glance over my outfit. Still in my button-down shirt and blue jeans, I give only a moment’s consideration to the effort it will take to change. I’ve slept in jeans before and right now it sounds better than any kind of moving.
Ryland’s head pops back through my doorway his hands full. Tucked under his arm is a pillow from the couch while a glass of water is in one hand and a bag of frozen green beans in the other.
“There are no ice packs in your freezer.” He shakes the frozen vegetables in my direction. There were vegetables in there?
“I told you, I don’t get hurt.” Limber is my middle name. I also choose not to exercise, but I’m sure my injury-free status is due to the former reason not the latter.
“Well you’re lucky I do. Sadly, there’s none frozen at my place either so we’ll work with this for now.” He places the glass of water on the night stand next to the bed. “Lift your foot up.”
Again for some reason I listen to his demands. I blame it on the pain. I grit my teeth and lift my twisted ankle a few inches while he props the pillow underneath it.
“Do you need to pick up a prescription?” he asks as he balances the bag of green beans on my ankle. It’s cold, but I swear the pain recedes right away.
I reach for my purse and pull out the bottle of pain meds the clinic filled for me at their on-site pharmacy. “Nope.”
“Good.” He shakes the bottle a few times, causing an instant headache to form behind my eyes, and then pulls one out, handing it and the glass of water to me.
Ryland turns and I swallow the pill as quickly as possible. I’ve never been good at forcing foreign objects down my throat. I don’t want to imagine my face as I gag on it. The pill feels stuck, a jagged edge scraping the soft tissue of my throat as it goes down, causing me to rapidly drain the glass of water.
Wood scrapes on wood and I return my attention to where it should be, the tall hot man in my bedroom. “What are you doing?” I sputter and put the empty glass back on the stand. Ryland stands in front of my dresser, a place I’ve not given him permission to look around in.
The giant turns with one of my pink nightgowns dangling from an outstretched finger. I send up a silent prayer it’s a decent one and not from my naughty collection or the hole-filled pair I’ve had since college. Or worse, the pants with My Little Ponies plastered all over them. They were a gift from my sister. And they’re super comfy.
“Will this work? It’d be easier to get into. If not, I’ll get the ponies.” He grins his stupid lopsided smile I’ve started to like a little too much, and I want to die.
“You’re not getting me dressed.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen.”
Who did I piss off to have Ryland Bates in my apartment pawing through my clothes? “Um, no. I’ll figure it out.”
The man catches some sense and doesn’t fight with me. Instead of pressing the issue, he folds up the nightie and lays it beside me on the bed.
“Fine.” He turns to leave again and I panic. This time he’ll be gone for good.
“Ryland.”
He turns back at my call.
“Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.” We’ll go back to our landlord and tenant agreement tomorrow, but I can’t let him go without knowing how much his help meant. Maybe the next time I break one of his rules he’ll take pity.
“No problem, Marissa. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” With those final words he walks out of my sight.
The front door latches before I recover from his parting remark. He’s coming back?
