I’m not sure what the game plan is, but Lauren says loudly, “Bree, can you sit here and answer the phone if anyone calls? I want to grab a snack from the vending machine.”
I agree to do it and take her seat.
She disappears down the hall to the vending machines, only to reappear about sixty seconds later. She pokes her head into the reception room, focusing her gaze on Ryan. “The vending machine is stuck again, and I can’t get my candy bar out. Would you help me?”
He glances at the security monitors, scanning for signs of trouble, before he nods and follows her out of the room.
The moment he’s gone, I make my move. I hurry over to his desk and start searching for the yellow legal pads. They’re in the bottom drawer. I pull the one on top out, scanning the first few pages.
I quickly realize that his writing style doesn’t match. It’s more than just the quick, messy scrawl he has. The way he forms his letters is all wrong. Unless he spent a couple of hours working on unusual penmanship, he’s not my guy.
I hear Ryan and Lauren’s voices getting closer. I shove the yellow legal pad back in the drawer and close it as quietly as I can then sprint back to the reception desk.
My butt has just graced the seat when Ryan pops in, carrying an energy drink. He hurries back to his desk, scans the monitors, and picks up his thriller book.
“So what did you think about Ryan?” Lauren asks me at lunch when we’re alone in the employee kitchenette.
I stab a bite of my casserole and shake my head. “He’s not it. That’s definitely not his penmanship or his style of word choice. The letter was flowery and the penmanship flowed too well. Though Ryan is an amazing writer, so I’m not sure who our next suspect is.”
Lauren looks around the room to make sure we’re alone. When she’s certain we are, she leans across the table to whisper, “Ethan.”
I frown. The doctor working here hasn’t paid me any special attention. When I point this out, she shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe he’s just shy. Besides, he was working late when we were at the cubbies.”
I think of that for a minute, then shake my head. “I’ve seen his signature on countless documents. He’s way too messy of a writer.”
“Or maybe he’s trying to throw you off his trail,” Lauren suggests, then gives me a wink. “Don’t worry, I have a foolproof idea.”
A few minutes later, Ethan comes into the kitchenette, and Lauren magically produces a greeting card. “Hey Ethan, Joyce is recovering from her hip surgery in the hospital. She’ll be back here in a few days and some of the staff were signing a get well card.” She opens the card where she’s already added a message. “Elaine signed too.”
Ethan takes the pen from Lauren. He leans down and quickly adds his name. Lauren frowns at it. We both know that we need a larger sample of his handwriting to compare to the letter.
“We really need a personal message, so it feels warm,” Lauren says to Ethan.
He takes the pen from her and adds a few words before handing the card back to her. We wait until he’s gone to open it and examine the message. Get well soon. Don’t sue us for those wet floors.
I drum my fingers on the table. “Well, Ryan is not it. Ethan is not it. Maybe you should cross out his note for Joyce.”
“Joyce isn’t even in the hospital. She’s here, and she’s teaching the tango class in five minutes. But there goes my last suspect. Also, she only fell one time. I put down a non-slip mat after that.”
I blow out a soft breath, disappointed that I can’t figure this out. I didn’t want it to be Ethan or Ryan.
“Maybe your secret admirer will come forward all on his own,” Lauren suggests, but her tone doesn’t sound very hopeful.
I don’t blame her. I’m not sure we can hope for that. If he doesn’t come forward, I may never know the identity of the man who made me feel seen.
Chapter 6
Dalton
Jealousy burns in my gut as I see Bree talking with Ryan. He says something that makes her laugh, and I squeeze the bag of mulch I’m carrying just a little bit harder.
Earlier she was talking in the employee kitchenette with Ethan, and it made me want to snap his scrawny frame in half. I don’t understand what right these guys think they have to talk to her.
She’s mine. I’m the one she should be talking with and laughing with and sharing about her day. Not these other bastards who don’t appreciate her generous curves and easy smiles.
Except maybe they do. The thought has a feral growl building in my chest.
“What’s gotten into you?” Cord asks as he tosses down his bag of mulch onto the ground beside me. He straightens up and catches sight of Bree. He makes a soft noise. “Oh, I see.”
