“No. Thanks. I’m good.”
Once he’d gone I’d summon up some strength to do it for myself. A nice quick hot bath. Emphasis on quick. Baths and I had a bad history. Long story.
He shuffled his feet, crossed his arms. I stared off at the wall, embarrassed for some reason. Being in such close quarters was weird. Would it be rude to tell him to go back to work? It felt rude. The things he’d done for me today, he’d been kind, caring. I had no idea what he thought he’d achieve here. Guess the least I could do was not be a raging bitch. Besides, who had the energy?
I swallowed hard. “Actually, could I have the Kleenex, please?”
“Sure.” He tore open the box, setting it beside me.
“You’d make a great nurse.” I tried to smile. It felt wrong, wonky and weak, like the rest of me. Blergh.
An amused glance. Then more silence.
God, the spaces between words were so awkward. All difficult and embarrassing. And I was so off balance, I couldn’t help but fill them up with meaningless conversation. “Ever considered going into that field, Joe? Nursing?”
With both hands, he smoothed back his golden hair, getting it out of his face. “No. This is strictly a one-off gig.”
A pause. “I do about five shifts a week behind the bar and work with my dad a few days as well. He’s a carpenter, trained me too. He used to build houses until his arthritis got too bad. Now we just do renovations and maintenance mostly.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing as fancy as part-owning a restaurant and bar like my brother.”
Wow. I so wasn’t going near that comment. I drank some more of my soup, then fished out chunks of vegetables and noodles with the spoon. “That’s where the interest in old buildings came from, then, working with your father?”
“Yeah.” He sat down in the dumb decorative chair they always have in posh hotel rooms. Made for quite the combination, Joe and peach cushions.
Man, everything hurt. I sagged further, wilting before his very eyes. Having something hot in my stomach helped, but I seriously couldn’t wait for the drugs to kick in. Every inch of me ached, but my head was a total mess. Maybe I should get it removed. At least then my nose would stop running.
Steam might help me breathe. I gave the bathroom door a longing look. A bath was starting to sound nice, it just seemed so far away. Miles. States. And I smelled funky, sweaty. Must have had a fever while I slept. Just as well Joe was sticking to the other side of the room.
“You really do want that bath, don’t you?”
I just looked at him, waiting for my brain to cough up something to say.
“Look, Alex, it’s okay to let me help you. I’m not going to use it against you or something.”
“Ha.” I smiled for real. “That doesn’t make me sound paranoid or anything at all.”
“I’ve given you enough reason not to trust me. I get it.” With wrinkles all around his eyes, the guy gave me a truly pained look. The whole being-the-bad-guy thing really wasn’t sitting well with him.
Good. I would not feel pity for him. The man had burned me bad. Desperately, I tried to shove any empathy, sympathy, or any of the above back from whence they came. It didn’t quite work. I was such a sucker. “If you wouldn’t mind running me a bath that would be great. But you don’t have to, you’ve done more than enough already.”
Without another word he got up and went into the bathroom. The sound of water rushing in to fill the fancy jetted tub was music to my ears. This had been the only room they had available when I booked back into the hotel after our conversation attempt at breakfast this morning. My original basic room had been gone. Luckily, the lady on the front desk took pity on me and dropped the price some. She probably didn’t want me hanging around the lobby, infecting people with my germs. Whatever the reason, she deserved sainthood and I’d be emailing the pope ASAP. The room was damn nice.
“Done.” Joe rubbed his hands together. “Shit, I didn’t think to buy any bubble bath. Sorry.”
I smiled. “I think just this once I can live without bubbles.”
His answering smile didn’t fit quite right. Guess his need to please wasn’t appeased. Awkward looks started up again as neither of us knew where to go from here, what happened next. I broke the standoff by blowing my nose. Such a delicate, lady-like sound. Not the least bit like a trombone on acid with added gargling noises. Seriously, the human body could be spectacularly gross.
“Speaking of renovations,” he started, sitting back down. “You ever get a chance to look at those pictures I sent you?”
“Pictures?” I played dumb, picking at the stitching on the hem of my top.
“Of the upper floor of the Bird Building where Dive Bar is.”
“Oh, right.”
A pause.
He shrugged. “No problem if you didn’t. Just thought you might have been interested.”
“I was.” Internally, I gave myself a good hard slap. Then another. Might as well just paint a target on my back and be done with it, rather than admitting to being interested in his life or work any further; disappointment and disaster were sure to follow. You only had to look at our recent awesome history to see that. I should just ask him to leave. Or fake my own death and then lock the door when he ran to get help.
Gaze glued to me, the man waited.
“Hand me the laptop on the table,” I grumbled.
Curiosity lit his dark eyes and he did as requested, sitting beside me on the end of the bed. Big fingers brushed mine as he handed over the computer. His skin was cooler than mine. Though not unpleasantly so. Surreptitiously, I wiggled an inch or two away from him as we waited for the machine to power up.
“You have Marty the squirrel as your screensaver?” The corner of his lips curled into a smile and he nodded at my screen.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I said, frowning. Nervous, shaking fingers stumbled across the keyboard, entering the password then bringing up the relevant file. “Sure, Marty doesn’t always remember where he’s left his nuts. But he’s never once misled me or done me wrong.”
“Hey, calm down. I was just going to say, great shot of him.” He turned back to the computer. Then he stopped and gaped at the screen. “Wow, what’s all this?”
“It’s nothing, really,” I babbled. “Actually, let’s not do this.”
“Wait.” He leaned in closer, tilting his head, checking things out. “No. These are really something.”
“It was just … I was just messing around.” I tucked my hair behind my ears, rubbed at the old scar high on my forehead. “Seriously, it’s nothing. Not like I’m an architect or anything.”
“Bullshit.” The dude leveled me with a look. One that I neither liked nor took comfort in. “Alex, we need to show these to Andre.”
“Who? The owner of the building?”
A nod.