As the door swung shut behind him, I thought I’d be glad to finally be alone. My nerves felt frayed and my temper was dangerously short. Instead, I felt an emptiness in the center of my chest that hadn’t been there before. Holbrook’s earthy cologne lingered in the room, but there was a sense of something missing. It was like his presence had warmed the room, and his departure had left it feeling cold and empty.
“Man, I’m losing it,” I mused, rubbing my hands over my face in an attempt to wipe away my sudden sentimentality. In the span of just a few hours I’d gone from jilted lover to lovesick adolescent.
Figuring that a shower might help ease the tension in my shoulders and the dull ache behind my eyes, I bounced up from the bed and grabbed my toiletry bag and some clean underwear. Shedding my clothes along the way I slipped into the bathroom, my toes curling against the cool tile floor, and felt the first layer of stress ease out of my shoulders at the sight of the glass encased shower.
Now this is what I’m talking about, I thought, eyeing the large showerhead appreciatively.
After fiddling with the faucets and showerhead to get the water almost blistering hot and the spray turned to the massage setting, I stepped into the shower and moaned in sheer delight. Hot water pummeled my skin, easing the knot of tension in the muscles across my shoulders, thickening the air around me until I could barely see my hands through the steam.
I’d considered upgrading my bathroom at home a few times over the years since I moved back. As ugly as the old mint green bathtub was, it held a lifetime of memories. It also held a horrendous ring of soap scum that I’d been meaning to attack for weeks.
Yeah, I’ll add that to my to-do list, right after “Survive maniac ex-boyfriend.”
Thirty minutes later, when my fingers resembled a bunch of prunes, I managed to pull myself away from the amazing shower, figuring that I should leave some hot water for the other hotel guests. Dressed in a pair of comfy sweats, I wrapped a towel around my hair, and sprawled out on the bed. Turning on the TV, I flipped through the limited range of channels before settling on reruns of The Big Bang Theory.
***
Several hours later, the sun had sunk below the buildings across the street, and the Big Bang Theory marathon had transitioned into some crappy made-for-TV movie. Uninterested by the new show, I sat up and stretched until a series of pops rippled down my spine, my back and shoulders feeling loose and liquid in a way they hadn’t in days. I almost felt as good as I did after shifting and letting the wolf run free.
To hell with the memories, I need one of those showers at home!
A curt knock on the door interrupted my channel surfing. Getting up, I checked my reflection in the mirror above the writing desk across the room and frowned. At some point during my binge watching the towel around my hair had unraveled, leaving me sporting a tangled mess of dark curls. Not the best I’d ever looked, but by far not the worst either. Another knock at the door put a stop to my fretful primping, forcing me to shrug it off as a loss.
I padded on bare feet to the door, pausing to look through the little peephole, though from the smell wafting into the room from beneath the door, I already knew it was Holbrook. His familiar cologne mingled with the warm caramel scent of his skin invaded my senses along with the mouthwatering smell of pizza. My stomach growled loud enough for the entire hotel to hear in response to the scent of melted cheese and tomato sauce.
“Room service!” Holbrook said, beaming wide when I opened the door. He held up a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of Mountain Dew with the other.
“No beer?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Sorry, this is about as exciting as it gets while I’m on duty,” he replied with a shrug and lopsided smile.
Stepping back, I let him into the room, not sure what smelled more delicious—him or the pizza. Shooing Loki off the bed, I snatched up the remote to mute the TV when Chrismer’s face appeared, dominating the screen.
“That’s right, Kelly,” she was saying, somehow managing to sound both cheerful and solemn at the same time. “Reports are coming in that there has been another werewolf attack. Law enforcement officials believe that Samson Reed, who recently escaped from the White Sands Supernatural Penitentiary, was the perpetrator of this horrific and senseless act.”
The remote fell to my side as my jaw dropped open.
“What the…”
“The attack took place last night around ten p.m. just outside of Bailey. The FBI has not yet released the name of the victim,” Chrismer continued. “For those of you who have been following the latest developments of Reed’s escape and flight from justice, it would appear that he is making a beeline for Denver. We can only assume that he is searching for his one surviving victim, Ms. Riley Cray.”
“Is this true? Was there another murder?” I demanded, rounding on Holbrook.
The guilty look on his face was answer enough.
“Fuck!”
I flung the remote across the room in a fit of rage. It broke when it hit the wall, raining plastic and electronics onto the carpet. As quickly as the anger had risen, it faded away, leaving me hollow and fragile. “Why didn’t you tell me?”