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“I’ll take it. No, argument, please.”
“I’m too tired to argue anyhow.” I wanted to forget about the night, but I knew some things would be burned into my memories no matter how much brain bleach I applied.
I let him lead the way down a wide, wainscoted hallway, and couldn’t stop myself noticing the nice view aka his firmly, muscular ass in some spectacular fitted jeans. Jesus, why was I thinking about his butt? There was a dead man in the clinic next door, possibly a neighbor, even a friend, and here I was letting my hormones have their way. I felt like the most awful human being ever.
He slowed up, and his scent grew stronger, the bergamot turning bright and citrusy to my senses. He stopped at a door near the end of the hall. I crossed my arms because my stupid nipples had gone rigid with alert. He put down the case and pivoted to face me. The raw expression in his silvery-gray eyes melted me to my toes. I gulped.
“Uh, this my room?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Where is your room?”
His eyes darkened with an expression I hadn’t seen before. “Right across the hall.” He reached back and rapped the knuckles of his left hand on the door.
“Oh. That close.”
“Don’t worry,” he growled in a very un-Billy Bob way. “I won’t bother you tonight.”
“I didn’t…” I realized I didn’t know how to respond.
“If you need me I’ll be in the clinic.”
“Right,” I said. “Right. The guy.”
He pointed at the door just up the hall from the guest bedroom. “Bathroom if you need it.” His words were tight, squeezed, as if his throat had swelled. He didn’t open the door for me. Instead, he skirted around me as if I had Ebola and quickly walked away down the hall and out of sight.
What the hell was that all about?I’d never seen Billy Bob act so strangely. It had to be the body. Had he found something? Something that affected him personally? Or me? “Oh God.” I put my hand to my mouth. What if it really was someone I knew? Someone close to me? I hadn’t looked close enough to determine the height or build of the corpse. I’d wanted so badly to get away from it. I couldn’t even put a voice to my worst fears. I wouldn’t. I’d already lost one brother.
My hands shook bad enough that I dropped the highball glass. It didn’t shatter but ice skid across the hardwood floor and bourbon splattered everywhere. I sprinted up the hall, my wet soles sliding as I tried to slow down for the transition around the corner. I slammed to the floor, landing hard on my backside. The impact made my right leg throb with renewed pain, and my elbow bleed where it had smacked into wainscoting trim. It made me angry that I couldn’t keep the tears from my eyes as I pulled myself up from the floor and limped down the next hall toward the clinic.
