A folded note, propped against the base of the lamp beside a bottle of water and a couple of Tylenol, caught my eye.
I turned on the lamp and squinted at the scrawl.
The handwriting was barely legible, like it had been written on the run or during an earthquake.
I laughed softly. Noah.
If I’d needed any more proof that he was a doctor, his handwriting sealed the deal.
Faraday.
My name, scribbled in his hand. The tiniest flutter stirred in my chest.
Like he’d wanted to make sure I knew I hadn’t been alone.
Rest up today. I’ll let Tay know you’re not joining the group. Drink. Relax. Don’t worry. Also… DRINK. See you tonight. —N
I couldn’t help but smile.
Housekeeping hadn’t knocked all morning, and I only realized why later, when I opened the door for the room service I’d finally ordered—Noah had hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle.
So him.
“I’m not just being nice, Luna.”
Nope. Nope. Not gonna go there.
He would have done the same for anyone on our trip, surely. Because he was a helper. Because he truly was one of the good ones.
The fact that he’d stayed most of the night with me didn’t mean anything.
It just meant he was more of a hero than I’d thought before.
Had I called him that? Had I actually told him he was a hero?
Nothing wrong with that. We were friends now.
I lifted the cloche off my plate and sat down to eat.
And it could have been because I was just that hungry, but honestly, the Eggs Benedict was amazing. With a perfectly runny yolk and a hollandaise that didn’t taste like it came from a packet. I was almost startled by how good it was. The muffin wasn’t soggy, the ham had a nice sear, and someone in that kitchen actually knew how to plate.
I must be feeling more like myself if I was judging another cook.
After finishing more than half of the meal and then taking a leisurely shower, I finally felt human enough to pull on some real clothes.
That’s when I spotted my poor K Jacques by the door, the broken strap dangling like a sad little noodle. I picked it up and winced.
Yeah…that was not going to get me through the rest of the trip. But I had all day. And it was up to me to do something to rectify the situation.
I was in an unfamiliar town, not on another planet.
I mean, even small western towns had to have stores, right?
After straightening up the room, because I couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a mess for the housekeepers, I dropped my keycard into my purse and headed downstairs. At the front desk, a bubbly woman sat at a smaller station just off to the side of check-in, practically bouncing in her chair.
“I know just the place.” She barely let me finish my question. “Head down Main Street about two blocks—you’ll see Wild Canyon Outfitters on the corner. They’ll fix you right up.”
And, to my surprise, she was right.
