Page 78 of Against The Rules

“Oh my god,” I say, melting a little.

He’s not going to play fair. Of course he isn’t. Life-changing sex wasn’t enough. Nope, the guy is going all out to try and prove how he feels.

It might even be working.

I wander back over to my phone, still staring slack-jawed at the ridiculous flower arrangement, which brightens up my whole room.

It’s really sweet.

There’s a few more messages from Tyler, so I check those.

Ty: I made you a hair appointment today, too, I know you were disappointed with your roommate for leaving you high and dry. Sorry I couldn’t do it myself.

Ty: I’ll text you when I land

I don’t have a clue what to say to any of this. I feel like a freaking princess. The only flowers I’ve gotten from guys were always the saddest wilted bunch left at the grocery store on Valentine’s Day, if I was lucky, and if I wasn’t, whatever was there the day after.

I’ve never been spoiled by a guy. I mean, yeah, I haven’t dated in a long time, but still.

This is new territory.

I check the remaining two texts; one is an auto-reminder from my stylist’s salon and I grin at it, excited to get my roots under control and beaming at how thoughtful it was of Ty to remember.

The last text is from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hi Savannah! This is Kelsey from USBC-Philly. I was hoping you’d maybe have time to talk one-on-one and provide some background color for the piece I’m working on. I’d love to treat you to lunch or coffee! Let me know.

It came in early this morning and I swallow hard, staring at the flowers like they hold all the answers.

Why does the reporter want to talk to me?

What does she want?

I scroll back to the auto-reminder, and then smack my forehead as I check the time. Ty made the appointment for a half hour from now.

No way in hell am I going to miss it.

“Shit!” I mutter, scrambling to at least take a quick shower, not bothering with my hair because she’ll take care of that. But no way in heck am I going to go to the salon smelling like sex and queso. That’s a bad idea.

I brush my teeth, then throw on my favorite soft romper and try to pick up the evidence of sex from last night. I don’t know what Ty’s housekeepers think about me and why they’re here, but I strip the bed and glance around at the wreckage before giving up.

Sheepishly, I go into the living room, feeling awkward as hell. “Hi, um, a chair broke in there last night, and I picked up, but it’s kind of a mess.”

“We’ve seen it all.” They don’t even look up, scrubbing the floors and counters and making everything sparkle brilliantly.

“It looks incredible. Thank you all so much. I just have to run out, and—”

“Don’t worry, we’ll lock the door behind us. Go have fun. We’ve got this.”

“Okay,” I say. I’ve never had a housekeeper, except for in the hotel I stayed at in Vegas. “Thank you all so much, seriously.”

“We all need a little help sometimes, honey. Go have a good day,” the lady who must be in charge says, smiling at me softly.

“You got it, you too,” I say.

This is weird. Not bad weird, just weird. Good weird. I practically skip out of the house and start the car.

Me: This is… above and beyond. Thank you.

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