As soon as I slammed the door shut behind me, my thinly veiled composure evaporated and mortification replaced it. At the sound of muffled laughter from Mr. Patterson’s room, I hustled down the hallway, wanting to put as much distance as I could between myself and what had just happened. But as hard as I tried, AJ’s words, coupled with the image of me giving him a rubdown, kept playing over and over in my head. “Jesus,” I grumbled. Rubbing my eyes, I wished more than anything I could bleach those images out of my mind forever.
I skidded into the nurse’s station, mowing into Dee. “Oomph,” he muttered, as multi-colored paperwork scattered through the air like confetti. “Damn girl, where’s the fire?”
“In AJ’s pants,” I muttered.
“Huh?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Lemme pick these up for you.”
“Why is your face so red?”
“I said, it’s nothing. Just drop it, okay?” I bent over and started sorting the papers.
Dee harrumphed before crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t tell me Mr. Gordon in 409 asked you for another sponge bath? Cause you know I’ll go down there and tell him I’ll take care of whatever he needs. I’m sure that’ll shut his perverted, old ass up!”
I rose up off the floor. “That’s not it.”
With a skeptical look, Dee took the paperwork and tossed it onto the desk. “Well, something sure has you riled, Mimi.”
“Okay, fine. You want it, so here it is. I’m totally mortified because I knocked a drink onto one of Mr. Patterson’s visitors.”
Dee shrugged. “What’s so embarrassing about that?”
“Well, I panicked and started cleaning him up—”
“Once again, not a crime considering our profession is to help people.”
I rolled my eyes. “Would you let me finish?”
“Fine, fine.”
“Anyway, of all places, the drink fell in the guy’s lap and—”
Dee gave me a contemptuous snort. “Mia Martinelli, how many times have I told you not to molest the guests of hospital patients?”
“Wait, what?” I questioned, trying to process his response.
“You know your little drink spill routine is just a ploy to get to rub up on some hot dude.”
My eyes widened. “Dee, what the hell is wrong with you? I just told you I was mortified, and now you’re acting like I’m some crotch grabbing pervert?”
A throat cleared behind me, and I whirled around. “Oh shit,” I muttered, before I could stop myself. With an ‘I can melt your panties at twenty paces’ smirk, AJ stood at the door with his hands shoved in the pockets of his holey jeans. While the front was still damp, they were no longer tented like when I left him. From his expression, I could tell my little tirade hadn’t had a lasting effect on him at all.
Pointing at Dee, I said, “Just for the record, he is being a total ass right now.”
AJ chuckled. “Yeah, I know.” He took a tentative step forward. “I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute?”
Grabbing a chart, Dee batted his eyelashes at AJ. “I’ll just duck in the medicine room real quick, Mimi, and let you and sweet cheeks have some privacy.”
As he sashayed away from us, AJ’s brows furrowed, and he blinked a few times in disbelief. “Is it just me or does he remind you of—”
“Lafayette on True Blood?”
AJ’s dark eyes widened. “Holy shit, yes!”
“Yeah, he gets it all the time.” With a laugh, I added, “Most of the time, he uses it to scam free drinks or get closer to a guy he’s scoping out. People never seem to be disappointed that it’s not really the actor—I mean, that guy doesn’t act like LaFayette in real life anyway.” When I realized I was rambling, I pinched my lips shut. It had been a long time since any guy had gotten me rattled enough to run my mouth like an idiot.
“You a fan of the show?” AJ asked.
“Oh, yeah, I adored it—well, until the whole sixth season and Billith.”
AJ snickered. “I couldn’t agree more. I used to be pretty much obsessed with it, but yeah, I couldn’t get it up for the last two seasons. Now I’m more a Walking Dead and Sons of Anarchy fan myself.”