(Mira)
I woke up to someone knocking on my door, and for a second I thought it was Tyler before I remembered where I was. Crosswell. The Spoke. Not there anymore.
It was Harlow, two coffee cups and a huge smile, pushing past me before I'd fully opened the door.
"Get dressed," she said. "We're going to the mall."
"I have to work later."
"Not until five. Hank told me." She handed me a coffee. "You need things, Mira. I can see it."
She wasn't wrong. Everything I owned was falling apart or stained from work. My jeans had seen better days.
"Nothing crazy expensive," I said.
She grinned. "Define crazy expensive."
I gave her a look.
"I'm kidding," she said. "Mostly."
She took me to stores I'd never have walked into on my own, pulled things off racks without looking at prices, added them to a pile I wouldn't have chosen myself. A dark green shirt she said would look great on me. Jeans that actually fit. A sweater. Two bags from the first store alone. I stopped arguing somewhere in the second one because it clearly wasn't doing anything useful.
We sat down for lunch after and she asked why I never talked about myself.
"There's not much to talk about," I said.
"I don't believe that. Everyone has a story."
"Mine isn't very interesting."
"Try me."
I picked at my salad. "I just needed a fresh start."
"Are you running from something?"
I looked up at her. "Yeah. Something like that."
She didn't judge. Just nodded. "Ridge is good at keeping people safe. If you're in trouble, he'd help."
"I don't need help."
"Everyone does sometimes." She shrugged. "But I get it if you're not ready. When you are, I'll be here."
On the way back to the car I mentioned I was thinking about dyeing my hair darker, closer to what it used to be before I'd gone blonde thinking it would help me disappear. Harlow's eyes lit up and she was already calling a salon before I finished the sentence.
Two hours later I looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. The dark brown made my eyes stand out and made me look less like someone running and more like someone who belonged somewhere.
"You look beautiful," Harlow said.
"It's just hair."
"It's not just hair. It's a fresh start."
She paid without looking at the total. On the drive back she said Ridge was going to lose his mind when he saw me and I said I didn't care what Ridge thought and she called me a liar and I didn't argue because she was probably right.
Back at The Spoke I changed into the green shirt for my shift and let my new hair fall around my face instead of pulling it back. Right at six o'clock the door opened and Ridge walked in wearing his usual. Dark jeans, black tee, leather vest with the president patch. He looked tired like he'd had a long day. Then he saw me and stopped walking.
His eyes moved from my face to my hair to the new clothes and back again. He didn't say anything for a moment.
"You changed your hair," he said.
"Went back to my natural color."
"Looks good." He sat at his usual spot and ordered his burger, but he kept looking at me like he was trying to figure something out. When I brought his water he said, "You look more relaxed than when you first got here."
"Maybe I am."
"You should be. This is a safe place. You don't have to keep looking over your shoulder here."
I wanted to believe that. But Tyler was still out there, still calling, still looking. Believing in safe places was something I hadn't been able to afford for a long time.
Around seven a guy I didn't recognize came in and sat at the bar. He ordered a beer, called me sweetheart when I brought it, asked if I was new. Said he'd remember a pretty face like mine. Introduced himself as Dave. He wasn't creepy. Just friendly. But before I could answer his next question Ridge was there beside me without a word, standing close enough that Dave looked between us and got the message.
"Sorry," Dave said. "Didn't know she was taken."
"She is," Ridge said. Flat and certain.
I started to say I wasn't and Dave put his hands up and left money on the bar and walked away fast.
I turned to Ridge. "I had that handled."
"I know."
"Then why did you step in?"
"Because I wanted to." He looked at me. "You're mine, Mira. Everyone in this town needs to know that."
"I'm not yours."
"Not yet." Like it was already decided and I just hadn't caught up. "Everyone else already knows it. Even if you haven't accepted it."
The arrogance should have made me angry. Should have made me want to run. Instead something warm and dangerous moved through me that I didn't want to think about, and I turned and walked away before he could see it on my face.
When I brought his order back Dane was there smiling like he knew something I didn't.
"New hair looks good," he said. "Ridge couldn't stop staring."
"Shut up," Ridge said.
"You got it bad, brother."
Ridge didn't deny it. I went back to work and felt him watching me the whole night.
At the end of the night after everyone had cleared out and Hank had gone home I was wiping down tables when Ridge walked over, picked up a rag, and started on the bar without asking. We worked in silence for a few minutes.
"You really do look good," he said. "The hair and all of it."
"Harlow wouldn't take no for an answer."
"It's not the clothes." He looked at me across the bar. "You look like you're not scared anymore."
"I'm always scared."
"I know. But less than before." He put the rag down. "Whatever you're running from, whoever he is, he's not getting to you. Not while I'm here."
I wanted to tell him everything then. About Tyler and the hospitals and the nights I'd spent sitting in my car because going home was worse. But the words wouldn't come. I just said thank you and he said I didn't have to thank him and headed for the door.
He stopped halfway there and turned back.
"Mira."
"Yeah."
"You looked beautiful tonight. Thought you should know."
He left before I could respond.
I stood there in the empty bar and realized something that scared me more than Tyler ever had.
I was starting to fall for Ridge Dalton. And I had no idea what to do about that.