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His change of attitude was because after glancing at the clock—it was nearly noon—he looked over and saw a naked Rachel in his bed. Yeah, this was pleasant, all right.
Jericho leaned over and kissed her.
“I heard you grunt in pain when you moved,” she said, and only then, did she open her eyes. So either she’d just been resting or wasn’t a sound sleeper because he didn’t think he’d made that loud of a noise.
“Just some twinges,” he lied.
Sighing, she got out of bed, giving him an amazing view of her curves. Full breasts and the ass to go with them. When it came to Rachel’s body, her maker had definitely understood the assignment.
She went into his bathroom and came back a few minutes later. She handed him two over-the-counter pain meds and a glass of water.
“The doctor left some prescription stuff,” she reminded him, “but I figured you wouldn’t want to take it.”
“You figured right.” Those things could cloud his mind, and he needed to be able to think straight. “A kiss or two might work better than these,” he said, swallowing the pills and washing them down with the entire glass of water.
Suddenly, he was thirsty. And hungry. And very interested in another round of sex with Rachel.
She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she gathered up her clothes from the floor. “I’ll fix us some lunch and then take a look at any reports that might have come in.”
Damn.
She knew just how to work this. The “us” in her lunch comment meant she needed to eat, too. And the reports? Well, yeah, he wanted to see those. In fact, he should be seeing them since this investigation was the very definition of active and high priority.
Following Rachel’s lead, he got up and dressed. Not easily, but he managed it, and even though he knew it would hurt like hell, he did some stretches with every part of him but his injured shoulder. That worked out some of the knots in his muscles and made him feel semi-human again.
Something else made him feel human, and even hungrier, when he caught the scent of something that definitely wasn’t Pop-Tarts. It was bacon, and Jericho followed his nose to the kitchen.
“It’s the breakfast sandwiches Marco brought over,” Rachel explained. “We had a lot of leftover, so I put them in the fridge, and I’m heating them up now. You want coffee?”
“You bet, but I can make it while you’re finishing the sandwiches.”
All of this food prep seemed so…cozy. Rachel and him being hip to hip in his small galley kitchen. Ironic, since he’d never thought of himself as a cozy person.
But Rachel was.
Despite her not wanting to have her own children, she was a caregiver to those in the group home she’d managed. Sex hadn’t changed that.
Hadn’t changed him.
Or the job he had, which had crappy hours, was dangerous as all get out, and it often meant living a life that didn’t play well with others.
Jericho frowned.
Because where did that leave Rachel and him? What kind of compromise could they make so they could hold onto what they’d recaptured in the past couple of days?
He was mulling that over while he made the coffee, poured two cups, and sat down at the counter with her to eat. It was tempting to dive right into the subject with her. But the other part of his mulling over brought him back to the “active investigation” part of his complex life.
“Spike, put any new reports on screen in the kitchen,” Jericho said.
“Will do,” Spike immediately responded. “I might be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.”
Jericho frowned.
Rachel laughed. “That’s from one of my favorite episodes.” But then she stopped. And maybe realized just how accurate the first part of that line was.
Yeah, Jericho did indeed feel like love’s bitch, and he might have even admitted it, but the screen on the front of the smart fridge came to life, and he put any possible admissions aside since the first report in the queue was an update from Ruby on Paulie.
Or rather the lack of an update.
