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“Dex, oh my God.”
Her voice was shrill and shaky.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, gripping the phone.
“I was attacked. I–”
I jolted and spun in a circle, then dropped onto the bench and tugged at the laces of one of my skates.
“Are you okay? Is he still there? Where are you?” I got one skate off and moved onto the next. I could run in skates, but I sure as shit couldn’t drive in them. Well, maybe I could.
“No. I, God. I’m okay. It was…” She laughed. “God, Dex, I was just attacked by a squirrel.”
I stilled, bent over and my fingers tangled in the laces.
“Say what?”
“I was attacked by a squirrel. It was in my closet, and I opened the door to get some more of the nighties you like and I guess it came in through one of the holes in the house and it got in my closet and one of the workers shut the door and then when I opened it–”
“Whoa, sugar, take a breath.”
I needed one too. Holy shit, my adrenaline was pumping harder than when I scored the winning goal for the championship.
I could hear her breathing hard. “I’m sorry. God, it scared the shit out of me.”
“You’re not the only one. Wait. Are you hurt? Did it bite you? Is it still in the house?”
“I’m fine. Really. I just got scratched. It bounced off my legs and I’m wearing pants today, but it jumped onto my arm which is bare, before launching itself across the room, I have little claw marks.”
Claw marks? I huffed out a laugh and ran a hand down my face.
“Okay. You’re at your house now?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t move. And don’t open any more doors.”
38
DEX
* * *
“When you said I should take some time off and come hang out with you and meet Lindy, this wasn’t the way I expected.”
I stood, feet spread, arms over my chest, as Theo dabbed antibiotic ointment on the thin cuts on Lindy’s arm. I didn’t like seeing anyone else touching my woman, especially my brother.
But his gaze held zero interest, only bewilderment and amusement.
In my panic, I’d called Theo from the car as I raced from the rink to Lindy’s house. He texted when he got to town, but I’d been in Finland. We hadn’t caught up since I’d been back and fortunately he was still here hanging with Mav. He must’ve had more punch cards saved up than I expected. The conversation had been–looking back–a little ridiculous.
“Lindy might have the plague,” I told him, turning out of the parking lot almost on two wheels.
“Sexual plague or just the flu?”
“What?” I shouted, gunning it through a yellow light. “What the hell is a sexual plague?”
He didn’t answer, but instead said, “So the flu then. I haven’t heard of many cases lately, but I don’t follow Montana’s health department reports.”
