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“Right now.” He moves off the bed, but he rests his fists on the mattress beside my thigh and grins so I see him, even in the dark. “Get up. Get dressed. If you want a shower first, you can, but you get ten minutes, tops.”
“Shower.” I shove my blankets off and reveal my panties and shirt. But I don’t care. Everyone sees panties. Women wear less at the beach. So although Drake’s attention drops to my legs, I bound across the bed and hiss when my feet touch the floor and my legs smart from the movement. But just like the underwear, I don’t care. Because I’m going to see my mom.
I dash through the doorway and into the bathroom I used last night to brush my teeth. Flipping the shower on, but leaving the light off, I close the door and peel my clothes away, dropping them to the floor. “I’ll be two minutes,” I call out. And because I was too excited to go before stepping into the water, I turn the heat as high as I can tolerate and release my bladder. “And I’m definitelynotpeeing in the shower!”
“I feel like you’re lying to me, Aurora.” He opens the bathroom door and sends panic lancing through my blood.
I grab the fluffy loofah and use it to cover up. But when he remains outside, I lean a little to the left, searching. “C-can you see me?”
“Nope.” The click-click-click of what I think may be a gun being loaded echoes into the room. “But I wanted to hear you, so we don’t have to shout. I’m not looking. I promise.”
“Is that, like…” Wary, I pump soap into my hands and start washing. “Is that ano I can’t see youthe same as myno, I’m not peeing in the shower?”
He chuckles, low and throaty and just warm enough to get my blood moving at this godawful hour. “I won’t lie to you. If I was looking, I’d do it so you knew. I’m a pervert,” he adds playfully. “But I’m not a creep.”
“Oh, well… I guess that makes everything better.” I bend and contort in every way possible, all so I can keep my hair dry, and once I’ve washed the important bits, I flip the shower off and step toward the glass door. “I’m coming out. So if you can seeanything…”
“I’m facing away.” A dull thud hits the wall in the hall and brings my brows together in question. But I grab a towel anyway and make quick work of drying off.
“How am I doing on time?”
“I gave you ten,” he rumbles. “You still have eight. Feel better with an empty bladder now?”
“Yep. And shut up about it.” I wrap the towel around my body and cinch it in at my breasts, then bending, I grab my dirty laundry and bundle it in my arms. “We won’t speak of it again. I’m coming out.”
“I’m still facing away.”
I open the door all the way and make my way through, much slower now than I did on the way in. I wish for my cane but know I can make do without it. So I keep my steps measured and ignore the goosebumps that break across my skin when the cold air finally touches down.
I head into the bedroom I chose last night in my sleepy stupor, guilt lancing through my stomach when I realize I have no clue where Drake slept. I mean, there are a half-dozen more bedrooms in this house, so I’m confident he found somewhere. But the fact I didn’t check, I didn’t ask, and I didn’t care enough to make sure he slept, makes me feel bad.
Heading to the bag sitting in the corner of my lavish, albeit, out of date, bedroom, I select a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then I search the pockets for fresh underwear. “Did you sleep last night?”
“Yeah,” he answers from the hall. “I always catch a couple of hours somewhere. How are you feeling today?”
“Same as always.” I step into black panties and slide a matching black bra on next. “My leg is stiff and sore in the mornings. But I’m young and fit andyada yada yada.” If my hands weren’t busy fastening my bra, I’d make the little gesture with my fingers to mock my surgeon. “I’ll be good as new eventually. So I’ve just gotta put in the time and wait for everything to go back to normal.”
“And your other leg?” His shadow stops by my door. But again, he doesn’t come in. “I saw that bruise on your thigh, Aurora. When the car hit you?”
“Call me Rory.”For the love of god, call me Rory… or Little Bird. I like that. “And that side hurts more this week. The bruising is fresher, and that car came outta nowhere.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t die,” he growls. “Do you often run into the street without looking?”
I step into a pair of jeans and fix the button with a snigger. “Only when people are shooting at me. I’m honestly hopeful that never happens again. In which case, it’s unlikely I’ll run into the street again.” I slip my shirt on and snag a hoodie from my bag. Then scooping up a pair of socks and my sneakers, I grab my cane and head into the hall, smiling up at the man who waits with his back pressed to the wall and his foot lifted to sit beneath his butt. “Time?”
Grinning in the shadows, he looks down at his phone screen and nods his approval. “Took you seven minutes from start to finish.”
“Rocked it.” I lean on my stick and hug my shoes and hoodie to my chest, then walk the hall and make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. “Is that coffee I smell already?” I lift my nose into the air and inhale. “Really?”
“The only way I wake up.” Drake circles me, much faster on his feet, and grabs down a mug from a cupboard I’ve yet to inspect. Setting it on the counter and picking up a half-full pot, he pours. Though, his back is to me so my focus is on his shirt that stretches from shoulder to shoulder. The leather holster that strains tight and makes him appear all the broader. His hair is combed again, his chin, shaved down to a neat stubble.
He goes to bed after me and wakes before me. He manages to shower and shave and be wherever he needs to be to ensure I’m safe and alive, and he somehow does it all when I’m not looking.
“I’m gonna head to the station later today to talk to Buchanan.” Setting the pot back in its stand, Drake turns to me and offers the mug. No cream. No milk. No sugar. He sets it on the counter and slides it across until it stops just six-inches from my hand. “Detective Fletcher and Officer Clay will stay here with you.”
I pick up the mug and cup it between my hands. But my brows pull tight in curiosity. “First of all: why can’t I come with you?”
“Because you don’t need to be there. And the more you’re outside this house, the more vulnerable you become. There’s literally no reason to put you at risk like that. So…”
