Page 19 of The Scout

My mind raced with every unspoken word, every flicker of something dangerous I’d seen in his eyes moments ago. He wasn’t just my brother’s best friend. He was a man who could tie me in knots without even trying. And I’d never been tied in knots like that before.

I took a slow breath as I stepped behind the front desk of The Palmetto Rose, shaking off the residual tension from our walk. The familiar rhythm of the hotel washed over me, grounding me. Crisp white linens. The rich scents wafting from the café. The soft sounds of guests passing through, their conversations blending into a gentle, cultured murmur.

This was my world. A world I’d built for myself—one of luxury and polished perfection. Everything about hospitality called to me, from the intricate ballet of staff moving seamlessly through their tasks to the quiet satisfaction of making someone’s stay unforgettable. My job was more than just checking people in and handingover keycards. It was about creating an experience, about offering a sliver of warmth and comfort to people who, for a few nights, called this place home.

I’d chosen this career because I loved it. Because I loved the rush of solving problems, the art of making things run smoothly even when chaos lurked beneath the surface. It was something I could control, something I was good at. And after years of feeling like my life had been dictated by circumstances beyond my control—losing Mom, then Dad, and now Will leaving again—having something that was mine felt necessary.

I pulled my shoulders back, forcing my mind away from Ryker and his impossible intensity. He didn’t belong in this part of my life. He belonged in the shadows, in places where people whispered about danger and power, where men like him dictated the rules instead of following them.

And yet …

I sighed, forcing my focus onto the monitor in front of me as I checked in a middle-aged couple from up North. They smiled warmly as I handed them their keys, their fingers brushing when they reached for them. The kind of simple, affectionate touch that spoke of years spent together, of a love so ingrained it didn’t need grand gestures.

A love I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.

I plastered on my best professional smile, ready to assist the next guest, when a voice—deep, smooth,interested—cut through the hum of the lobby.

“Tell me something, do they make the dress code at this hotel that good on purpose, or are you just the exception?”

I blinked up at the man leaning casually against the counter, and, okay—wow. Not Ryker.

He was young, maybe early twenties, with the kind of lean, athletic build that suggested he spent as much time running drills as he did studying. His short brown hair was neatly trimmed, his jaw strong and dusted with the faintest hint of stubble. But it was his smile that got me—easy, charming, the kind that made a girl feel noticed.

He couldn’t have been more than a couple of years younger than me.

I arched a brow, but my stomach did a tiny, traitorous flip at the way his eyes lingered.

The Palmetto Rose had a strict dress code for staff—polished, professional, elegant without being flashy. For the front desk, that meant a crisp white blouse and a matching pencil skirt that hugged just enough without being inappropriate. Classic black heels—nothing too high, just enough to add a touch of sophistication. My name tag was pinned neatly to my lapel, and my dark hair was swept into a sleek low bun, not a strand out of place.

I arched an eyebrow, crossing my arms on the counter. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

He grinned, unrepentant. “Only when they’re true.”

I let out a soft laugh despite myself. “Can I help you with something, Mr …?”

“Matt,” he supplied. “Matt Ralston. I’m a cadet at The Citadel. Just stopped in for coffee before class.”

That explained the crisp gray wool uniform, the high collar fastened neatly at his throat, the gleaming brass buttons marching down the front of his jacket in perfect symmetry. A polished black belt cinched around his waist, emphasizing the sharp lines of his posture, and his dark trousers, complete with a military crease, looked as if they’d been ironed that morning with a ruler. Even thesilver insignia on his lapels reflected the light of the lobby chandeliers, a testament to the discipline The Citadel drilled into its cadets.

The military college was a Charleston staple, known for turning out some of the most disciplined men in the country. And yet, despite the rigid uniform and the air of precision that came with it, there was something distinctly easy about Matt. A confidence that wasn’t just rehearsed military bearing—it was playfulness, charm, the kind of energy that reminded me of the guys I’d dated before.

Safe. Fun. Predictable. The kind of guy I should be interested in. The kind of guy who would never look at me the way Ryker Dane did.

Matt’s eyes swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin warm under his gaze. “What about you? You always work the front desk, or do they keep you hidden away to prevent a riot?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “I think you’ve had too much caffeine.”

“Not yet,” he said, his voice dipping slightly. “But I’m about to. Unless you want to be the reason I stay a little longer.”

He was testing the waters, waiting to see if I’d swim toward him or push away. I didn’t want to push away. Not after the way Ryker had looked at me this morning, like I was something he had already claimed. I was tired of men deciding things for me.

So, when Matt reached across the counter, letting his fingers skim lightly over my wrist, I didn’t pull away. I let the touch linger, let the warmth of his skin seep into mine.

I smiled, tilting my head slightly. “Enjoy your coffee, Matt.”

His grin widened. “You made it a whole lot better.”

And then, just as he turned to leave, I felt it.

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