“Fine.” She releases a breathy mock sigh. “I’m not unwell, not bleeding, no weird side effects, still a little buzzed on thepep, but it’s not a bad buzz, it’s just a standard morning after infusion buzz, which I kinda like.”
“Mmm. That probably means I’m gonna get lucky tonight.” I stride along the hall, past the staircase, and into the kitchen, only to skid to a stop at Steve’s unimpressed glare. He slumps on a stool and glowers, while behind him, Mary prepares dinner.
“I seem to recall both of us getting lucky this morning,” Minka argues. “And last night in the pool. And didn’t we spend a little time in the shower together yesterday? And?—”
“Uh-huh. Cool. Love you. See you soon.”
“Wh—”
I end our call with a chuckle and slip the phone into my pocket.
I wouldn’t typically hang up on my darling wife before she was ready to be done, but she’s safe with Harrison, and it’s not often I get time to speak to Steve without her around, so I move to the fridge, peruse my options, then I select a can of Coke and turn back to the surly old man. “I’d offer you one, but caffeine’s probably not good for your heart, huh?”
He watches me through shrewd eyes, following my movements as I come around the massive stone counter and pull up a stool to his left.
He flattens his lips and works hard in my peripheral vision to makedroopyappear a little scary. “You may be a married man, Detective, but Doctor Mayet is still a lady. Perhaps you could consider a more respectful way of communication.”
Because I mentioned getting lucky? I’ll take your feedback on board. “How are you feeling today?” I pop the seal on my soda and cast a quick glance Mary’s way. “Anything to report?”
“I can speak for myself, Detective.” The strength in Steve’s voice pleases me. The attitude he brings with that strength amuses me. He loves our Minka the way Tairneyy Keen’s dad loved Josey. Both too shy to admit it. But the love remains. The protection, too. “My specialist team is pleased with my recovery. My wound is closing well. My medication schedule has been modified for maximum benefit. My tolerance for a brisk walk around the yard is increasing, my water intake is satisfactory, my sleep is consistent and restful, and Mary seems pleased with my progress.”
Curious, I glance across and catch her satisfied nod.
“I appreciate your hospitality, Detective Malone, but I assure you, I’m working as quickly as possible. I won’t be a bother inside your home for much longer.”
“You think I want you out?” Chuckling, I bring my soda up and take a long pull of the icy cold liquid until I feel the chill race along my throat and into the base of my belly. Bringing it down again, I meet his muddy brown eyes, both shrouded with long eyebrows he’s never considered trimming, then I flash a bright smile that disarms the cranky fool who came into this discussion thinking I was sick of him. “I ask about your recovery, not because I’m booting you out, but because I want to be sure you’re well enough to return to work.”
“That’s what I just?—”
“And then, when I’m certain you’re back to fighting fit, I intend to offer you a job.”
“A j—” He flounders for sense. For something useful to say. His jowls wobble, and his lips flap. “What?”
“You have decades of experience successfully managing a building and its tenants. You have excellent administration and organizational skills, keep a tight maintenance schedule, and not once in all the time managing Minka’s building have you skimmed off the top, mismanaged contractors, or allowed your tenants to suffer in an uninhabitable apartment.”
“How… but…”Close your mouth, old man, or you might swallow a fly.“What?”
“Which part do you need clarification on?” I look to Mary, then back to him again. “I’m not sure where you’re getting caught up.”
“You’re being rude,” Mary admonishes quietly. And since she’s feeling brave, she leans across the counter and taps my arm.
If she were my father, she would’ve shot me point-blank.
“Mr. Morris, I believe Archer is attempting to congratulate you on many years of service at your current place of employment. He was raised without manners, though, so he lacks the social skills to express his thoughts appropriately.”
“Yeah.” I hook my thumb in her direction. “What she said.” Then I glance over my shoulder and estimate we have five more minutes before Minka walks through that door. “Your building was bought out by an investor approximately two months ago. You recall the changeover?”
Silently, Steve bobs his head.
I take another sip of my Coke and grin behind the lip of the can. “That building belongs to the Malones now, which means technically, your contract belongs to the Malones, too.”
His eyes swing impossibly wide. “Y-yours?” And then he explodes. “You let me lecture you!? You let me gripe and grumble and eat your food and sleep in your guest bedroom? Jesus, Mr. Malone! You can’t expect a man to conduct himself perfectly at all times when that man doesn’t have all the information. If I knew?—”
“This isn’t like that.” I set my soda on the counter and press down on his shoulder before he bounces clear off his seat. “We’re not turning this into one of those relationships where youyes sir, no sirme. Your job is not at risk. You’re welcome in my guest bedroom for as long as you wish to stay, and no,” I meet his eyes with a steely glare, “Minka doesn’t know. So zip it.”
He gulps. Then he nods.
“I want you to stay here. Inside this house. Permanently.”
