Page 90 of Too Good to Be True

Last night (or more aptly, early this morning) came crashing into my brain and I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed about how I’d lost it or terrified out of my head at how much I was beginning to feel for Ian Alcott.

While my just-awake brain was sifting through these things, Ian got up and walked toward me.

I watched as he came right up to the bed then reached beyond the nightstand to pull a wide velvet ribbon that, considering the room was so masculine, was the odd color of white with a faint stripe of pink down the middle. The silk tassel at the bottom was a bright, leafy green.

It hit me.

The colors of a hawthorn blossom.

“I overslept,” I announced.

“Correction,” Ian replied, standing beside the bed looking down at me and also looking pretty scrumptious in some gray joggers and a navy, long-sleeved shirt. His feet, I’d noted, were encased in some OluKai, gray shadow slippers. “You caught up on sleep,” he finished.

I nodded.

“They know if I ring the bell, you’re awake. They’ll be bringing up some coffee and food for you in a minute.”

“Okay. I’ll head back to my room.”

To that, he went to the end of the bed and picked up my camel-colored, merino wool duster cardie, which was so long, it hit my ankles.

Someone had been to the Rose Room.

“You’d only have to come back here,” he said. “They brought your bathroom things too. They did this because I asked. I want you with me for a while, if you don’t mind. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

So sweet.

That said…

“I’m okay, Ian.”

“I’m asking you to humor me.”

I’d been really freaked out, and I’d brought that right to Ian’s door, as it were, and freaked him out too.

Now, understandably, he was worried.

There was no reason to fight it, so I didn’t.

I nodded again.

He held out the cardigan like it was a coat.

I slid out of bed and turned my back to him, shoving my hands in the arms.

He settled it on my shoulders then used those shoulders to guide me down the dais toward a door. He ended putting his hand on the small of my back and giving me a gentle shove before flipping a switch, which artfully lit a bathroom that was a study of rich browns with stark-white porcelain bathroom accessories and gold fixtures.

Once I was inside, he shut the door behind me.

I used the facilities, and when I got to the sink, I saw a silver tray with a thick, rose-colored hand towel draped over it, on top of which were my Sonic toothbrush, toothpaste, box of dental floss, cleanser, toner, moisturizer, my hairbrush and a scrunchie.

Easy to use here, easy to carry back with me.

The staff really had it going on in Duncroft.

I gazed at myself in the mirror.

Although my eyes were puffy, they didn’t seem hollow like they’d been getting of a morning, and the shadows I’d needed to use concealer to cover were gone.

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