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“That you are.” He put his hand on my forearm and gave it a squeeze.
His touch electrified my skin with an energy that pulsed through my body. I pulled away from him as if I’d touched a hot coal. He thinned his lips, his gaze now on the steering wheel.
“We better get to it,” I said to cover my embarrassment. Shit. What was wrong with me?
I should have apologized. He was being kind. It wasn’t his fault my stupid hormones did a jig every time he walked into a room, or that my whole being wanted him whenever he touched me. It was as if he was the socket and I was the bulb. Every time he touched me my body would light up. I’d never had that reaction to another man. Ever. I’d like to say it was some transference because he was my doctor, my caregiver, during some of my darkest hours, but truthfully, he’d made me feel that way before I’d been kidnapped.
He opened his door, got out, and shut it hard behind him. I winced. After a few calming breaths, I got out too. By the time I reached the clinic, Billy Bob and Mark had already pulled the victim out of the back of the funeral home van on a gurney. Billy Bob handed the key to Mark’s oldest son, Jackson, who had gone into business with his father right out of high school.
I caught up with Jackson at the door. His face looked as pale as his pale blond, almost white hair, typical of opossum shifters. “You okay?” I asked.
“I never saw anything like that, Chav.” He shook his head, his eyes haunted.
I could smell vomit on his breath. Poor guy must have gotten sick. I’d lived in a cage for almost three weeks with only a bucket for my bodily functions, and sometimes, they’d messed me up so badly I couldn’t use it. Even so, seeing that skinned corpse, having its blood cover me, had almost made me empty my stomach too.
I patted his shoulder and took the keys from his shaking hands. “Why don’t you go sit on one of those benches? Get some fresh air.”
He didn’t argue with me. Shoulders slumped, he walked the ten feet to the nearest bench and sat down. Billy Bob and Mark had pulled the gurney up the ramp by the time I got there to help. I put the door wedge in to hold it open so I could get out of their way and then followed them inside.
“You have anyone in the clinic tonight, Dr. Smith?” Mark asked.
“No,” he said. “Nothing too major this week to warrant an overnight stay. I guess I can be grateful for that.”
I was grateful I wasn’t the body being moved to the metal table in his surgical suite. After all, the body had been left near my restaurant…while I was in the kitchen. Suddenly the air left my lungs as if I’d been socked in the stomach. “I was there,” I said.
“What, Chavvah?” Billy Bob asked.
I looked at him, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. “I was cleaning the kitchen.” My hand went to my trembling lips. “The killer was right outside the door. He could have waited until I … Damn it, Doc. He could have killed me too.”
Strong arms wrapped around me before I realized that Billy Bob had me in his embrace. I could hear his heart thumping as I pressed my face against his chest. I’m tall, only an inch shy of six foot, but next to Billy Bob most people were short. His hands threaded my hair, still damp from the shower, and my skin pulsed, threatening to strip my self-control. I wanted to shift. To run. To forget about my human side. My broken, damaged, emotionally stunted human side, and just let instinct and nature take over.
“You smell like the woods and the wind,” Billy Bob whispered to me. “You smell of home.”
I pulled back, curiously freaked out. What game was he playing? “I need some air.” I stepped out of his arms. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Why don’t you just go on over to the house,” he said. “After the Smarts get on their way, I’ll show you the guest room. Until then, get something to eat or drink from the kitchen.” He raised a brow. “There’s a liquor cabinet in the living room if you want something stronger than water or tea.”
“Thanks,” I told him and meant it. “You have bourbon?”
He smiled. “Yep.”
“Awesome.” I headed out the door of the surgical suite without a single look back. I wanted to lose myself in a glass of liquid amber.
I’d never been in Billy Bob’s home before, the non-medical side of his ranch house, so, I really hadn’t known what to expect. Maybe something rustic, a lot of weathered wood, and oh, I don’t know, dream catchers. Something in the Southwestern motif of design. It was none of that. The walls were pale green but earthy and warm with brown and gold accents. The furniture was modern, but still comfortable and inviting. The living room had a large fireplace, a deep brown semi-circular sofa with a round coffee table made of several types of wood that complimented the rest of the room. On the wall nearest me, I saw a tall liquor cabinet with see-through doors. The alcohol bottles were neatly shelved by type.
I retrieved a highball glass from the lower part of the cabinet where I also spotted a built-in ice maker. Fancy. I plopped a couple of chunks into my glass and grabbed the only bottle of bourbon in the cabinet. I took a long pull straight from the bottle. The potent liquor burned its way down my throat to my stomach. I waited for the blossoming warmth I knew would come. When it finally did, I poured two fingers into the glass and made my way to the sofa. It was July, so there was no need for a fire in the fireplace, but still, I huddled around my glass of booze as if it were ablaze.
I could smell Billy Bob’s scent—earthy musk with a hint of bergamot permeating everything in the room, including my shirt, which had been pressed up against him. Sometimes a heightened sense of smell could be a curse. At least the scent of the freshly murdered man was gone. I reclined against the backrest of the couch, marveling at the comfort, when I heard the door between his clinic and home open, his footsteps down the hallway, his slow, steady breathing as he entered the room.
“Hey, Doc,” I said, without turning around to look at him.
“Hey,” he said back. “I see you found the bourbon.”
I held up my glass and shook it so the ice clinked. “Yep.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “It’s nice.”
“If you’re ready, I’ll give you a quick tour and take you to your room.”
I stood up and turned my gaze on him. He was carrying my overnight bag. “Oh, shoot. Thanks.” I strolled to him and tried to take it, but he waved me off.
