Cruising down the street, he turned in to a cul-de-sac, the headlights of the SUV illuminating a 70s’ era ranch. As we pulled into the driveway next to an old blue and white pick-up truck, the security light above the garage clicked on, bathing us in garish light. Squinting against the glare, I reached for Loki and felt a stab of betrayal as I watched him crawl up onto Holbrook’s shoulder. Biting my tongue against the hurt and anger, I grabbed the bag of take-out and slid out of the SUV, closing the door with a little more force than was necessary.
I knew I shouldn’t have begrudged them their burgeoning bromance, but dammit, I was the one who’d just gone through hell. I wanted to be coddled and pampered.
As I shuffled along behind Holbrook up the walk and through the front door, my thoughts grew increasingly uncharitable. While the outside of the house was 70s’ chic, complete with beige siding and light blue shutters, the interior was much more in keeping with a modern bachelor’s style. The front door opened onto a living room dominated by a flat screen TV that was at least three times the size of the clunky TV I’d had since college. Launching himself off of Holbrook’s shoulder with an excited trill, Loki landed on the back of a recliner, instantly making himself at home.
“Is it even worth telling him no?” Holbrook asked with a weary sigh.
“Not really, but you’re welcome to give it a try,” I replied, fighting to keep the acid out of my voice.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the couch while shaking his head. “Kitchen’s this way.”
Three short steps led up into a kitchen and dine-in nook that looked to be halfway through a remodel. Modern appliances stood out in stark relief against the original cabinets that still smelled faintly of their recent coat of off-white paint. Paint cans and tools littered one end of a new kitchen table that sat under a layer of plastic, a set of IKEA assembly instructions poking out of the nearby trashcan.
“Sorry about the mess. I was taking some time off to do a bit of remodeling when the call about Reed came in.”
“No worries,” I replied, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, feeling out of place, more than a little grumpy, and bone tired. As good as the Chinese food smelled all I wanted to do was tell the world to go to hell, and find a dark spot to curl up in and go to sleep. Not necessarily in that order.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen in a daze, unsure of what to do, while Holbrook bustled around me, clearing off one end of the table and retrieving plates and silverware. His hands settling on my shoulders roused me from my dream-like trance, guiding me to the table and pushing me down into a chair. A hand appeared at my elbow with a glass of water and two little white pills.
“Take these, eat some food, and then off to bed.”
“Yes, Mom.” I popped the pills in my mouth and took a long drink. I wasn’t sure I’d ever tasted anything so good and pure, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat.
I’m sure the sweet and sour pork and fried rice Holbrook piled onto my plate was delicious, but as the painkillers began to soften the edges of my vision and make my limbs feel light as a feather, I struggled to coordinate my fork and mouth. I ended up with more food in my lap than in my mouth.
Taking pity on me, or maybe not wanting to spend all night cleaning up spilled rice and sticky sweet and sour sauce, Holbrook cleaned away our plates and helped me up from my chair. Effortlessly sweeping me up off my feet, he cradled me against his chest and carried me through the house into his bedroom. As a teenager, and even a college student, I’d had fantasies about a man with rippling muscles and perfect hair sweeping me off my feet in some obscenely romantic way. It figures that when it finally happened I was too drugged to give a damn.
His bedroom was blessedly dark and cool when he deposited me on the bed, letting me fall backwards to sprawl across the oh-so-soft comforter, while he busied himself tugging off my boots. I was fading fast, but hadn’t quite slipped over into unconsciousness yet, teetering on the edge of drugged oblivion where I felt like I’d had one too many margaritas.
“Hey baby, wanna wrestle?” I slurred, gazing up at Holbrook’s blurry shape in the darkness as he leaned over me to unbutton my jeans.
Rather than jumping my bones as I’d hoped, he just told me to “Hush” and peeled off my jeans as gently as he could manage while I flopped around like a seal having a seizure. Irresistible sex kitten, that’s me.
“Aw come on, Agent Tight Pants. Don’t you want to frisk me?” I asked with what was intended to be a sexy leer. Judging by his frown I think I just ended up looking mildly constipated. Ignoring my attempts at seduction, he wrestled me into a sitting position to pull off my shirt.
“Hold still,” he admonished as I tried to assist in his efforts by pawing at his shirt. Surely if we were going to get down and dirty he needed to lose his clothes too.
Somehow he succeeded in getting me stripped down to my underwear, and then much to my disappointment pulled a clean t-shirt over my head, and tucked my legs under the covers before I could make any more attempts to lure him into bed with me.
“Go to sleep, Riley,” he said brushing my hair back from my forehead before leaning in to place a tender kiss against my temple.
“Not…tired…” I protested even as I snuggled into the pillows and drifted into sleep’s waiting embrace.
Chapter 20