“Hey, Mike. Yeah, I’m safe. I’m at some bar,” Ryan muttered, trying to sound like he was fine. The hand that rubbed his forehead was still

shaking. He wasn’t fine.

He looked at me as he held his phone away from his face. He was blinking rapidly and he looked confused for a moment. “Ahh, what’s the name

of this place?”

“Mitchell’s Pub.” I slid a new napkin with our family name on it to him.

“A place called Mitchell’s Pub. Listen, I’ll call you when I’m ready. I’m just having a beer.”

“My driver,” he stated, like he could read the question in my mind. “I suppose he thinks he might get fired by the studio for losing track of me.”

I had no idea what to say, so I gave him a brief smile and darted away into the kitchen. I figured he wanted to be left alone anyway; distracting

myself by stocking the coolers sounded like a good idea. I took my time to load up two cases of beer onto the metal cart and wheeled them back

into the bar.

He was still sitting there as I unloaded the cases by the bar refrigerators. I tried not to look at him. He’s probably so sick of people bugging him.

As soon as he finishes that beer, he’ll call his driver. What would be the point of talking to him? Just leave him alone.

He stared at me while I emptied the cases of beer into the coolers. I could see out of the corner of my eye that his head turned and his eyes

followed me when I took the empty boxes back to the kitchen. I still couldn’t make myself look at him.

Ryan cleared his throat when I returned. “Well, you obviously know who I am. Can I ask what your name is?” His tone was very polite and friendly.

“Taryn,” I replied, glancing at him for a split second through the curtain of hair that spilled from my shoulder. I pulled my hair back out of my way

and tried to refocus my eyes on putting away the clean glasses that remained on the sink counter.

“It’s nice to meet you, Taryn.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” My nervousness made my responses sound unintentionally indifferent.

“So, Taryn, do you have a last name?”

“Mitchell?” I squeaked. So much for appearing casual and un-ruffled!

“Ah, I see,” he murmured as he held up the bar napkin with Mitchell’s Pub insignia on it. “Are you sure you don’t mind if I stay for a few minutes?

Then I promise I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It’s no problem, really,” I whispered, giving him a brief, friendly smile.

My nerves were tangled in knots so I had to keep busy. I grabbed a new liquor order form and took it to the other end of the bar to fill it out.

I could feel him watching me, even though I refused to look up and confirm that feeling. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this top today? Could he

see down the front when I bent over? I fixed my shirt at the shoulders, trying to inconspicuously see if I could see any cleavage. I’ll have to change

my shirt after he leaves. His beer is almost finished.

I tried not to make eye contact with him, but I could still tell that he was staring; his head turned and followed every move I made. I felt a little

strange as he gawked at me, so I picked up the television remote and turned the large flat screen on; maybe he needed something else to look at.

But he didn’t seem to notice the television.

I allowed myself another quick look at him and observed that his brow was pulled together. He looked confused; either that or he was deep in

thought.

“Are you doing okay?” I asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I think so.” He nodded and combed his fingers back through his hair. “I was just wondering, are you always this talkative?”

I was trying to appear preoccupied by filling the garnish holder with drink swizzle straws. I smiled bashfully at his comment.

“I thought you’d prefer to be left alone. I’m sure the silence and peace must be refreshing,” I murmured, assuming he’d agree.

He laughed lightly at my comment.

“It is, but it’s also nice to be able to talk to a woman who isn’t screaming at me,” he said, looking a bit more relaxed. “You’re not going to

scream at me, are you?”

“No,” I said in my softest, non-threatening tone. That’s when I noticed the laceration on his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t know if you realize it, but you have a pretty big scratch on your face.” Now that I was able to actually look at

him more closely, I saw the dried streak of blood that ran down his neck.

Ryan rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Unbelievable,” he murmured.

I opened up the first aid kit I kept behind the bar and picked out an alcohol swab.

“Is it that bad?” he asked.

I nodded gently. “There’s some blood. It’s not that bad, but you should clean it just in case.”

“I can feel it,” Ryan muttered as he ran his fingers over the raised marks. “My jaw hurts.”

“Don’t touch it,” I cautioned, pulling the first aid kit closer. I attempted to hand him the swab, but he seemed perfectly fine with letting me tend to

him.“

Um, can you tilt a little bit more?” I asked nervously. My hand trembled slightly as I wiped the swab across his wound, trying to be as gentle as

possible. There were actually two distinct fingernail marks across his jaw, though the stubble on his face covered most of it up. I saw his eyes

scrunch together; the alcohol must have stung a little.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Almost done.”

Ryan was gazing at my face while I put some antibiotic cream over the raised scratches. I noticed his eye color was a lovely mix of blue and

green, making them very striking. It was hard to look at anything else.

“Thanks,” he said, softly and sincerely.

I wiped the remaining cream off my finger. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but may I ask what happened to you today?” Secretly I was dying to

know how he got in this condition.

“Um,” he began, “I had some errands to run but I guess I didn’t get too far.” A broken smile appeared on his lips as he scratched his eyebrow

with his thumb. “It’s actually a bit embarrassing.”

“That’s okay. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.” I politely dismissed my question and closed the lid on the first aid kit.

“Ahh,” he groaned, keeping me engaged in conversation. “I went out to see if I could get a present for my mom; her birthday is in a few weeks. I

had some free time today, so I escaped from the hotel and went for a walk. I managed to go into one of the shops down the street, but couldn’t find

anything I wanted to buy.”

He took a sip of beer, pausing to collect his thoughts. His eyes focused on the bar instead. “When I left the store, there were a handful of women

waiting for pictures or autographs or something. I tried to be polite and walk away but…”

He let out a big sigh. “One girl grabbed me and tried to pull my shirt off. Then the chase started.” His lips twisted in disgust. “I took off running

and here I am. I feel like I just got mugged.”

“It sounds to me like you did get mugged. Do you want me to call the police?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head infinitesimally. “They were just excited fans.”

I reached up to the top shelf for my unopened bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, thinking that we both needed something special to calm us down.

“Would you like one?” I asked.

His eyes widened and he nodded enthusiastically.

“You have good taste,” he complimented.

I briefly smiled and pushed a filled shot glass in his direction. He tapped his glass into mine before tossing it back in his mouth.

“Do you mind if I ask you another question?” I asked tentatively. I still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be ignored.

“No, I don’t mind. Please – ask.” Ryan winced and puckered his lips from the after burn of the whiskey. His expression was slightly amusing.

“Well, I’m just curious why you’re walking around without an escort. Don’t you usually have bodyguards with you?”