Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Ryder
I wake up early, the light filtering through the heavy curtains. It’s not the sunlight that stirs me, it’s the lingering memory of last night.
Her.
The way she felt, the way she looked at me. I can’t shake it.
Not yet.
For a moment, I lie still, listening to the quiet, the soft hum of the hotel waking up around us. The sheets are tangled between us, a reminder of a night I didn’t plan and didn’t expect.
I mean, I don’t even think I got her name.
She’s still asleep beside me, her breathing slow and steady. I watch her for a moment, the disheveled curls framing her face. She looks peaceful, untroubled, and for a fleeting second, I envy that.
I should leave. I should get up, get dressed, and slip away without a word. I don’t need a scene.
I don’t need complications.
I slide out of bed as quietly as I can, my muscles stiff from a night I didn’t plan for. As I pull on my clothes, I glance back at her.
It’s hard to ignore the ache in my chest. She was fun, and it’s been a long time since I had fun.
But I need to get back to work.
I leave without a word. I don’t need to wake her up with some half-baked excuse. She won’t even notice. I’m sure of it.
I slip into my office in the back of the hotel, a man seeking refuge. The space is cold, clinical, familiar. The walls are lined with shelves of ledgers, reports, and stacks of financial papers that could bury anyone who’s not careful.
But for me, it’s where I thrive. There’s no room for distractions in here, no room for feelings, no room for her.
I settle into the leather chair behind my desk, staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop. The reports, the spreadsheets, the numbers… they all start to blur together after a while.
I force myself to focus, clicking through projections for the hotel’s profitability, concentrating on keeping this place going. That is what’s important right now.
I don’t need the money. That’s not why I’m doing the job.
It’s for her—Evie.
I still can’t believe she’s gone.
I met her at a little café not far from here. We both went there for breakfast every morning, at the same time, without fail. She’d always order the same thing, an omelet with extra cheese, and I’d get my black coffee and toast.
Neither of us was a big talker at first, just two regulars sharing the same space, the same routine. But after a few weeks, I found myself nodding to her across the counter, and one morning, she slid a blueberry muffin over to me with a smile.
“Try this,” she said. “I know the secret ingredient.”
We started talking after that. Slowly, at first. Just idle conversation about the weather, the coffee, and the news. But as the weeks turned into months, I found myself looking forward to seeing her every morning.
She had this way about her, a quiet wisdom that settled in her bones. A no-nonsense attitude, but also a softness that made her one of the most dependable people I knew.
We never became best friends, not in the sense of deep personal confessions, but I trusted her. And over time, she became someone I genuinely cared for.
She didn’t need me to fix anything for her. But when she told me about the hotel, and how it was slipping through her fingers, I knew I had to do something.
I didn’t care about the money or the prestige. It was never about that.
Evie had a vision for this place, and I wanted to help her keep it alive. I never expected her to pass so soon, three months after I first walked in here. It still stings.
I promised her I’d do my best—and that is a promise I intend to keep.
“So,” my assistant, Nolan, declares as he finally leans back in his chair, “that’s the last of the reports you asked for.”
I nod slowly, but I think he senses my distraction.
“Ryder?” Nolan’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You hearing me?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, still staring at the spreadsheets. “Keep going.”
He continues, despite my lack of focus, rattling off details. I glance up briefly, nodding as he speaks, but my mind isn’t on business. It’s on her.
The woman from last night.
Why can’t I shake her? Even now? This is not my style at all.
The way her eyes held mine, her lips teasing mine, the feel of her body pressed against me… I can still taste her on my tongue.
Her scent lingers, the faint trace of vanilla and cinnamon, and the ache in my chest refuses to fade.
I rub my temples, trying to shake the thought of her out of my head.
A soft click of the door handle cuts through the air. My gaze instinctively snaps toward it, expecting nothing more than the usual hotel staff or maybe Dex with a request for the bar.
But…
What the hell?
It can’t be.
Her.
The woman.
My one-night stand.
Here?
She steps into the room, eyes scanning the space before locking onto me. Time seems to slow as she halts in the doorway, clearly caught off guard seeing me here.
Her eyes widen in shock, but she quickly masks it with a tight smile. It’s too late, though. The recognition is instant.
I know her. She knows me.
And just like that, the atmosphere shifts. Tension crackles, powerful and suffocating, the space between us charged.
The woman from last night. She stands frozen for a moment, uncertainty written all over her.
Her face is flushed, her hair slightly messy, as if she didn’t sleep all that well. Same as me. She’s wearing a bright blazer now, the crisp fabric looking totally different from the woman I saw last night, but the way she looks at me now is new.
It’s all business, all calm professionalism—nothing like the playful, carefree chemistry that simmered between us before.
But underneath the surface, I can feel it—that pull.
Nolan, ever oblivious, glances up, his face shifting to confusion. “Uh, do you two know each other?”
She stands there for a second too long, her eyes flicking between me and Nolan, trying to compose herself.
I don’t even know her name.
Shit.
“I… I’m the new owner of the hotel,” she says, the words leaving her mouth in a sharp, almost biting tone. She takes a step into the room, as if daring me to meet her gaze. “Sunny Quinn.”
Sunny Quinn.
It hits me like a punch to the gut. The name floats through my mind, but it doesn’t make things any easier. This is her. She’s the owner.
Evie’s niece.
Shit.
A wave of discomfort washes over me, tightening my chest, but I force myself to stay calm. I shouldn’t be feeling this. I’m the CFO. I’m in control here.
But that thought is nothing more than a flimsy barrier, and I can feel it cracking beneath the pressure of the tension between us.
My throat goes dry as I stand up, moving instinctively, as if my body knows what it’s supposed to do. But the words are slow to come, heavy on my tongue.
“Sunny,” I finally say, nodding once, coldly. “I’m Ryder Hale. CFO.”
I can’t help it. My eyes slide over her. Damn it, Ryder, focus.
How do I handle this?
“Well, I assume you’ll want to know all the details about the hotel?”
She doesn’t answer right away, but after a pause, she gives a tight nod and steps further into the room, closing the door softly behind her.
I sit back down, keeping my hands folded on the desk, the smooth leather of the chair trapping me in place. The last thing I need right now is this distraction.
“So,” I start, opening the first report, “let’s go over the hotel’s financials. The transition hasn’t been smooth, and I’ll be blunt, it’s not looking good.”
I don’t sugarcoat it. I can’t afford to. This hotel is deep in the red. Evie for sure had her issues. There’s no room for missteps, no time for small talk.
I glance up at her, expecting to see the confident, no-nonsense demeanor of a businesswoman. But there’s something else there. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe even frustration, as she takes a seat opposite me.
Her fingers tap lightly against the desk, betraying her nerves. She’s trying to keep it together, to process everything, but I can tell she’s flustered. Still, I’m not giving her any time to catch up.
I flip through the documents as I explain the grim details.
“As you can see, the hotel’s profitability has been in decline for the past few years. Expenses are up, occupancy rates are down, and the staff has been stretched thin. We’re in a tough spot, and the financials don’t lie.”
She shifts in her seat, leaning forward slightly, her arms crossed. “I see.”
“Following so far?”
She nods. “Yeah, it’s just a lot. I inherited this hotel, and I wonder if I’ll even be able to turn it around. With no background…”
“Well, I mean, I’m here to help.”
“Yeah, okay.” She sucks in a sharp breath. “So, tell me what I’m missing here, Ryder. What’s the plan? How do we fix this mess?”
Her question is simple, but it hangs above us. I take a breath, calming myself.
“The plan is straightforward,” I say, my tone cutting through the tension. “We need to stabilize the hotel first, cut back on unnecessary expenses, and focus on increasing occupancy.”
“That sounds rough.” Her hands knot together in front of her. “What about instead making things more exciting around here.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What are you talking about?”
She offers me a one-shouldered shrug. “Well, it’s nearly Christmas. Why not have some events?”
Instantly, I see money hemorrhaging.
“Events, huh?” I lean back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest as my lips turn down into a frown. “And where exactly do you think the funds are coming from for this excitement you’re proposing?”
Her eyes flash with a spark of defiance, and for a second, I almost forget we’re talking about the hotel’s financial collapse. She’s got a fire that I already know is going to be hard to handle.
“We could start small,” she says confidently. “Some themed dinners or something. Something that gets people in here.”
I hate that idea.
I see no need to create a scene around the holidays.
“Sounds risky,” I mutter, tapping my fingers on the desk. “Events like that take time, they take resources, and they definitely take money. I don’t know if we have enough to pull it off.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think I can do it.”
Oh boy. And I thought Evie was stubborn.