night curled up beside him.
After everything they’d been through, after being reminded so graphically of Kevin’s murder, she wanted to be able to scoot her toes across the mattress and find King there. She wanted his warmth, his scent, his weight on the mattress to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
It was hard to process that she was finally letting her guard down because of someone she didn’t even know.
She tossed her backpack to the bed nearest the door. King did the same with the bags of things they’d found waiting in Fitzwilliam McKie’s car.
Who he’d sent shopping for them and when was as much a mystery as the man, but Cady wasn’t going to worry about anything involving McKie or what he wanted of her.
At least not for the next eighteen hours.
He was due to deliver a replacement vehicle to King in the morning. Thinking about him could wait until then. It might be only noon, but she needed a good night’s sleep.
She also needed a shower.
“I’m going to take a shower,” King said before she could make a move toward the bathroom door.
She stood watching as he ripped off the paper scrub top and wadded it into a ball. “Feel better now?”
He glanced around the room. “No beer, no crawfish, no sunshine. Nope. Don’t feel any better at all.”
He was here because of her. He’d lost his way home, everything he had with him, and his plans because of her. Yet since driving away from Freehold Township, his complaints had been tempered by humor, couched in sarcasm.
Either he was all bark and no bite, or she hadn’t yet felt his teeth.
The thought of his teeth brought to mind his mouth, and thinking about his mouth with him standing shirtless in front of her wasn’t smart.
Especially when thinking about him in the shower had her thinking about his fig leaf, and oh, she did not need to go there when she was this incredibly tired.
“I can’t do anything about the crawfish or the sunshine, but I can probably find you a beer.” That would require making a trip to the hotel bar if they didn’t have room service to deliver.
She wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but she should be safe enough. No doubt McKie had his minions lurking, ready to ride in and save the day.
King nipped off her worries. “I’ll settle for a pain pill. And about ten hours of sleep.”
Except for his taking the meds, they were on the same page. A long hot shower and plenty of shut-eye.
She’d be so glad to get out of these clothes and rid herself of the sooty grit from the fire and smoke and the sterile pine hospital smell that lingered.
“Go ahead, then. Take your shower.” She pulled her laptop from the padded slot in her backpack. “I’ll see if the wireless is working since I never did get into my bank yesterday. I may need to stop and wait tables for a month before getting on with the rest of my life.”
King stopped at the door to the bathroom. “If you’re going to be working with McKie, I’m sure he’ll be seeing to your finances.”
That was one way to put it. “You mean paying me for being bait? Do you think I’ll get more than minimum wage? Or is bait a job grade at the bottom of the government pay scale?”
“I mean he’ll see to your needs. Until you’re back on your feet.”
Back on her feet. Was that King’s way of saying “out of my life”? Because that’s what this was about, wasn’t it? King handing her off to Agent McKie?
“I’d rather see to my own needs.”
“Yeah. I figured you would, seeing how that’s been working so well for you the past eight years,” he said, then slammed the door behind him.
They were both tired and cranky and dealing with the sort of disaster aftermath very few people faced. She knew that. She knew better than to let his comment rile her.
But those words—“working so well for you the past eight years”—scooted and squirreled their way into her mind like an irritation too deep to scratch. And his presumptive gall started to drive her
After everything they’d been through, after being reminded so graphically of Kevin’s murder, she wanted to be able to scoot her toes across the mattress and find King there. She wanted his warmth, his scent, his weight on the mattress to remind her that she wasn’t alone.
It was hard to process that she was finally letting her guard down because of someone she didn’t even know.
She tossed her backpack to the bed nearest the door. King did the same with the bags of things they’d found waiting in Fitzwilliam McKie’s car.
Who he’d sent shopping for them and when was as much a mystery as the man, but Cady wasn’t going to worry about anything involving McKie or what he wanted of her.
At least not for the next eighteen hours.
He was due to deliver a replacement vehicle to King in the morning. Thinking about him could wait until then. It might be only noon, but she needed a good night’s sleep.
She also needed a shower.
“I’m going to take a shower,” King said before she could make a move toward the bathroom door.
She stood watching as he ripped off the paper scrub top and wadded it into a ball. “Feel better now?”
He glanced around the room. “No beer, no crawfish, no sunshine. Nope. Don’t feel any better at all.”
He was here because of her. He’d lost his way home, everything he had with him, and his plans because of her. Yet since driving away from Freehold Township, his complaints had been tempered by humor, couched in sarcasm.
Either he was all bark and no bite, or she hadn’t yet felt his teeth.
The thought of his teeth brought to mind his mouth, and thinking about his mouth with him standing shirtless in front of her wasn’t smart.
Especially when thinking about him in the shower had her thinking about his fig leaf, and oh, she did not need to go there when she was this incredibly tired.
“I can’t do anything about the crawfish or the sunshine, but I can probably find you a beer.” That would require making a trip to the hotel bar if they didn’t have room service to deliver.
She wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but she should be safe enough. No doubt McKie had his minions lurking, ready to ride in and save the day.
King nipped off her worries. “I’ll settle for a pain pill. And about ten hours of sleep.”
Except for his taking the meds, they were on the same page. A long hot shower and plenty of shut-eye.
She’d be so glad to get out of these clothes and rid herself of the sooty grit from the fire and smoke and the sterile pine hospital smell that lingered.
“Go ahead, then. Take your shower.” She pulled her laptop from the padded slot in her backpack. “I’ll see if the wireless is working since I never did get into my bank yesterday. I may need to stop and wait tables for a month before getting on with the rest of my life.”
King stopped at the door to the bathroom. “If you’re going to be working with McKie, I’m sure he’ll be seeing to your finances.”
That was one way to put it. “You mean paying me for being bait? Do you think I’ll get more than minimum wage? Or is bait a job grade at the bottom of the government pay scale?”
“I mean he’ll see to your needs. Until you’re back on your feet.”
Back on her feet. Was that King’s way of saying “out of my life”? Because that’s what this was about, wasn’t it? King handing her off to Agent McKie?
“I’d rather see to my own needs.”
“Yeah. I figured you would, seeing how that’s been working so well for you the past eight years,” he said, then slammed the door behind him.
They were both tired and cranky and dealing with the sort of disaster aftermath very few people faced. She knew that. She knew better than to let his comment rile her.
But those words—“working so well for you the past eight years”—scooted and squirreled their way into her mind like an irritation too deep to scratch. And his presumptive gall started to drive her
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