Her head rests over my chest. My hand strokes her back once, twice, until her breathing evens out.
When she falls asleep, I kiss the top of her hair.
"Goodnight, schoolmarm."
And for the first time in years, I don’t feel alone.
CHAPTER 21
MADDIE
Snort. Snort. Snort.
Something warm and wet licks my ear.
It takes a moment to realize it’s my dog.
“Snorty, stop,” I yawn, stretching as I struggle to remember where I am. There’s a gray light outside the window.
And I’m not in my bed. With a man’s pair of jeans thrown over the desk chair, I’m not even in my own room.
Then I remember last night. The bath. The martini. The way I fell asleep in his arms.
Snorty scuffles over, blowing morning puppy breath my way as he licks my face.
“All right, Snorts, I’m getting up,” I say, reaching for my phone.
It’s almost nine. According to the schedule, Rio and I are supposed to meet Henry Lemon, the founder of Quench after breakfast.
“Rio?” I call out, but the room is silent. His bathroom is dark and empty.
I shower quickly in my own room, letting the hot water wash away the confusion of the morning.
When I'm done, I grab one of those fancy hotel washcloths withthe gold monogram stitched into the corner to clean Snorty's scrunched-up little face.
He lets out little grunts of delight while I'm doing it. Like he’s at some exclusive doggy spa getting a facial.
“You're getting way too used to this five-star treatment, aren't you?”
I put on one of Antoine’s more conservative dresses, then twist my hair into my usual teacher-appropriate style before catching myself.
Something about my evening with the hot rockstar has made me bold.
I fluff out my hair with my fingers, letting it fall loose around my shoulders. Then I add a swipe of berry lipstick.
The last thing I need is for some paparazzi to snap a photo of me looking like I just rolled out of bed.
Especially after everyone saw me all glammed up yesterday with Antoine’s professional hair and makeup job.
I tie the bandana Antoine gave me around Snorty's neck, but can't quite manage to knot it the way Rio showed me at dinner.
At least Snorty seems pleased by my work as he examines himself in the mirror. My pup jumps into his Vuitton carrier, and we head to breakfast.
“Good morning, Miss Smith,” the too-perky hostess says. “Would your dog like the puppy menu?”
I look down at him. “Want a menu, Snorts?”
He yips yes.
