“Don’t be an ass.”
“I think you’d be better off here with me for a few days while you get your head screwed back on in a decent manner. Take care of you before going home to her and ending up back in caretaker mode.”
“Okay, whoa.” I said it as much to my whirling balance as to him, while finding a barstool at his kitchen counter to conveniently drop onto. “Who said I was her damn—”
“Nope. You don’t want to go there with me. Not right now. Whatever the semantics, we both know it’s true. If you get within ten feet of that woman, your shit isn’t going to get handled.”
“So, what?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that spread across my lips. “You’re going to handle my shit instead?”
“Now who’s being the ass?”
We stared intensely at each other for a few more moments until my weary body screamed at me to lie down.
“Listen, man. I don’t have the energy to argue with you on this,” I conceded, rubbing the back of my stiff neck. “You’re right. I’m exhausted. Just point me toward the room I can catch a few hours of sleep in, and then I’ll get out of your hair. I promise.”
“You can stay as long as you want, and you know it.”
“Shower and bed?” I persisted.
“All right, all right.” He splayed both hands in surrender. “See how you feel after some sleep, chief. I was thinking we could set you up in the room off the courtyard by the pool. I know you always like it out there. The sound of the water on the infinity edge—”
“No!”
I sliced the air with my hand, maybe a bit too forcefully based on his facial expression.
“If it’s all the same, I don’t want to hear water sloshing, lapping, rippling, dripping, or trickling.” I winced just thinking about it. A physical shudder racked my body. “Yeah…no. Not in any way, shape, or form for a very long time. Maybe ever again.”
“All right, all right,” Elijah repeated. “I get that. I do.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“How about the blue room? You’ve been in there a couple of times…just not ever by yourself. But maybe the nice memories will help? Shit, what were the names of those two fine females we last had there?”
“Seriously?” I snapped. “I just want to lie in a bed that won’t have rats running across it in the middle of the night.” My body gave in to another shudder before I continued my thought. “And I don’t want to be woken up by a boot to my stomach. That’s probably not too much to ask in this palace you have here.”
I forced a chuckle when the asshole factor of my words sank in. My friend was just trying to be accommodating, and I threw it all back at him with dickhead word choices.
“Hey. I’m sorry, man.” I shook my head and dropped my stare to my toes after behaving like such a cad.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Twombley. You’ve acted like a much bigger ass than this in our years. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up so you can get some sleep. You look like shit.”
Chapter Three
Grant
After nearly eighteen hours of sleep, I felt like a new man. Well, relatively speaking, at least. I indulged in another shower before going in search of my host. With nothing but a white towel wrapped shamelessly low around my hips, I followed my nose back toward his large gourmet kitchen. The delicious scent of coffee steered me like the Pied Piper’s own rodents before they ditched Hamelin.
Just before entering the kitchen, I heard Elijah’s voice as though he was having a conversation. I figured it was a phone call because I only heard his voice. Only after coming around the corner from the back hallway and through the butler’s pantry did I see the back of the woman he was speaking to.
Swiftly I shrank back into the pantry’s shadows and just as quickly gave myself a mental what the fuck?
Damn it. This wasn’t like me at all. But what exactly was me right now? My body had suffered a considerable amount of physical abuse over the past nine days, and I had the rainbow-colored bruises to show for it. I’d also been alternately starved and then fed, which put me on the brink of dehydration. That sort of abuse wreaked havoc on everything from sleep patterns to muscle tone and mass. All of that was definitely already showing as well.
And I hated it. With a deep vehemence.
It had been close to two decades since I’d been this self-conscious about my body. Nearly twenty damn years. But suddenly, I yearned to become invisible. Exactly the opposite happened when the icemaker in the spare refrigerator whirred, and I jolted.
At once, Elijah’s guest spun around.
My inner profanities turned the inside of my brain blue. No way could I get out of her sightline fast enough, nor did she appear to want that. Elijah’s visitor was actually a woman we both knew intimately.
Fuck.
Who the hell bought a backup fridge with an icemaker?
“Hey, Shawna.” I looked around for our host, but he seemed to have pulled the magic trick I was fantasizing about.
None of that was lost on the pretty redhead.
“Looking for Elijah?” she prompted.
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. Just not feeling so great. Do you know where he went? I thought I just heard him in here.” I couldn’t meet her gaze, so I looked over her shoulder to the courtyard just beyond the windows. Sure enough, there was my target, speaking animatedly to a man servicing the pool.
“Anyhow…it was…umm…nice seeing you again. If you’ll excuse me?”
No way was I waiting around to hear her reply. Instead I focused on beelining for the pool deck before Elijah was off to manage another household problem.
Still only in the bath towel, I stepped out into the late-morning sun. The warm rays felt so good on my skin that I surreptitiously gave the lounge chair deep consideration instead of having a conversation with my best friend.
Really, what was another lost afternoon at this point? No one knew I was back. I could lie there, just relaxing and pulling my shit together before going back to my place. It wouldn’t hurt anything. Or anyone.
Well, maybe someone.
“Hey, there you are. How do you feel? Did you sleep well? I see you found the shower stuff I set out.”
Elijah’s smile was genuine, his questions sincere. They always were. The man never asked if he didn’t really want to know. Each query’s answer was a building block to the carefully constructed vision he had of a person. Banks didn’t take friendships lightly. He gave all of himself to a relationship and expected the same in return. Unfortunately, there were times he ended up getting hurt because of it.
“Yes, Martha Stewart,” I teased him. “The thread count on the sheets could be a little higher, though.” I gestured toward the towel around my hips. “But seriously, do you have something I can throw on for the drive home? I don’t think an Uber driver will appreciate my balls on their upholstery.”
We both chuckled, especially as the pool guy whipped his head in our direction.
“Yeah, I can make that happen,” Elijah said. “But chief, listen, we need to talk.”
I cocked a brow. “About the fact that Shawna’s inside and you’re out here dicking with your pool filters?”