Rather than watching me struggle to climb the handful of steps to the door, Ryan picked me up and deposited me at the entrance like I was a sequined piece of luggage. “You gotta warn me,” I said, wagging my clutch at the steps. “I can’t have you tossing me around like a sack of potatoes.” Ryan tucked my arm into his and led me to the elevator. Two bellhops held the doors open for us and went to the trouble of pressing the button for the correct floor. “You’re a lot prettier than a sack of potatoes. Softer too.” “That’s nice and all,” I said, “but the point is that you can’t pick people up
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