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I pull away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Thanks. I might have one, actually. A service, I mean.”
It’s something I literally just thought of. But suddenly, I know it’s something I want to do.
“I think that would be lovely. I’ll be sure to come. He was such a sweet boy.”
I exhale slowly. “Yeah, he really was.”
Gail sighs, draining the last of her wine before she glances at my mostly-empty glass. “Can I top you off?”
“I…” I grin. “Sure. Thank you.”
“Excellent,” she beams, watching me kill the glass before taking it. “I need to go check on dinner anyway. I hope Shepherd’s Pie is okay?”
I chuckle. “I mean I’m Irish, so, absolutely. Our housekeeper growing up was like off-the-boat Irish, too. She made it all the time.”
Gail smiles. “Same. I mean, not the Irish housekeeper, but the Irish blood and appetite for Shepherd’s Pie, one hundred per cent.”
“I had no idea you were Irish!”
She laughs. “Full on. My maiden name is McCurdy and everything.”
“Wow, I also didn’t know you were married.”
“Divorced. Long before you and I met in Colorado.” She sighs. “All right, give me five. I’ll go refill our wine and check on dinner.”
I grin. “I’ll go find Bones and make sure he’s not pooping on one of your priceless rugs somewhere.”
She chuckles heartily. “Oh, I’m sure that good boy is doing just fine.”
When she waltzes out of the room toward the kitchen, I get up and head out the other doorway into the main hallway of Gail’s gorgeous apartment.
“Bones?” I frown, peering into the guest bathroom and finding it empty. “Bones, where are you, you little dick? You’ve got her fooled into thinking you’re a good boy, but we both know that’s bullshit. Where are ya? I swear, if you’ve pooped on Dr. Thompson’s floor, we’re going to have some serious words.”
There’s still no answer. I check the formal dining room, the entryway, the guest room, and the bathroom again just to make sure. Nothing. I even gingerly approach what’s clearly the door to the master bedroom. Thankfully, the door is firmly shut. And while Bones does have a way of using his head to butt doors open, this one clearly stood up to the assault by his fuzzy little dome.
“Dude,c’mon. Where are ya?”
I’m heading back down the hall to the living room when I pause, my nose wrinkling horribly.
God, that smell isreallyfoul—way worse than when I walked in. Like, I’m almost concerned for her upstairs neighbor, it’s so bad. I’m about to head back into the library when I glance to the side and frown.
“Dammit, Bones.”
The door to Gail’s study, which was closed when she invited me in earlier, is now ajar. Unlike the bedroom door, this one seems to have yielded to Bones’ patented head butt move.
Gingerly, realizing this is someone’s private space, I push the door wider and step inside.
“Bones?”
I almost retch. The smell is almost overwhelming in here. Like rotting food, or spoiled milk. I gag, covering my nose with the crook of my arm as I peer into the dimness of the room.
There’s a desk to one side in front of the windows, their shades closed. A table, a bunch of gorgeous hardwood and brass shelving. And, oddly, an ornate curtain drawn across the far wall, covered in Celtic-inspired designs.
“Bones!” I hiss. “Comeon! We can’t be in here! This is someone’s private space, not your fucking litter box. And besides, there’s no way either one of us should be breathing this air. Jesus.”
On my knees, I crawl-walk over to Gail’s desk and peer underneath it. “Bones?” Still nothing. Fuck. I start to stand. “Goddammit, you fuzzy fucking—”
Something glitches. Something chokes the air from my lungs as my mind tries to process what the insane fuck I’m looking at on Gail’s desk.
