Chapter 4 #2
She had me there. My comments bordered on flirting. She was just too damned irresistible. I accepted the soft drink. “Sorry. You’re right.” I popped the top on the can and took a gulp. “So, Peyton, where are you from originally?”
She waved a finger. “Oh, no, you don’t. We’re not playing get-to-know-you. That falls under flirting, which falls under propositioning, which you lost the right to do. So no talking.”
I stayed quiet while she dropped two pills in her mouth and chased them with ginger ale. She slowly drank more before she broke the silence. “Let me show you to your room.”
I grabbed my backpack and followed her, watching that sweet ass the whole way.
She opened a door to one of the two non-master bedrooms. “Is this okay?”
I nodded. “Sure. Which door is your bedroom?” Since I’d cleared the entire space, I knew which one was the master. But the beds had all been made, so I didn’t know for sure which one she was using.
She stiffened.
“Calm down. It’s a purely professional question, in case you call for help.”
“At the end.” She indicated the master bedroom and started that way. “See you in the morning.”
“Not so fast.”
With a creased brow, she turned. “What now? I’ve had a long day.”
“Time for your checkup.”
“Very funny. I’m not playing doctor with you.”
My cock stirred as an image of me examining her naked body came to mind.
“Remember your promise?”
I put a hand in my pocket and locked down my raging desire for this woman. Now was not the time. “It’s not a come-on. The doc put me in charge of monitoring you, and I’m not shirking that duty.”
“It’s very gallant of you to offer, but I feel fine.”
With the huge bump on the back of her head, I doubted that. “If you don’t want to cooperate with me, I can take you back to the ER to get checked by them. We have to be diligent in monitoring for worsening symptoms.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t take your jokes right now.”
“How much do you know about concussion protocols?” I didn’t know much either, but we’d been taught a few things as SEALs in case of head injuries.
She stood defiantly with her hands on her hips for a second before giving in. “Make it quick… And no touching.”
She had a real contact phobia.
The pleasant memory of her pressed against me on the bull made me want to understand why it bothered her. “Put one foot directly in front of the other, heel to toe, and walk toward me.”
“This is silly.”
“Heel to toe, please. In a straight line.” I counted off six steps as she took them.
She only wobbled slightly and didn’t lose her balance.
I nodded. “That’s good. Now recite the alphabet backwards.”
“I can barely do it forwards.”
“Go ahead.”
I stopped her when she got to P without any mistakes. “Very good. Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Do I pass, doctor?”
I couldn’t help myself. “Open your shirt. I’d like to listen to your heart to be sure.”
“March, you are incorrigible.” She still hadn’t used my first name.
“You can call me Zane.”
She turned. “Goodnight, March.”
“I’m going to take a quick tour around the building and be right back in. Don’t lock me out.”
Her bedroom door closed without a response.
Once outside, I did a quick circle of the building and then opened the Cayenne and sat inside. I looked up to check the windows of Peyton’s condo before dialing Jordy. Was I opening Pandora’s box?
“It’s late. This better be a matter of life or death,” he answered.
“I need you to check out someone,” I answered.
“Who you talking to, baby?” a woman’s voice asked in the background.
“It’s work,” Jordy said. “Who do you need checked?”
“Peyton. Peyton Smith.”
“How is she?”
I looked up again and checked for lights in the windows of her condo. “Better.”
“Why her, and what am I looking for?”
“Come back to bed, baby,” the woman cajoled.
“She’s running from something or someone, and I need to know if she’s a fugitive or something. She’s afraid to get the cops involved.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
I scratched the back of my head. “She’s lying about it.”
“Are you sure you want to do this behind her back?”
How could I protect her without complete information? “I’m sure.”
“She’s gonna be pissed when she finds out.”
“Look, is this too difficult for you?”
“Ye of little faith. I’ll get to it tomorrow.”
“If you don’t get off the phone, I’m leaving,” the woman complained.
“Thanks, man. Get back to your guest.”
“Don’t blame me when she comes after you with something sharp.”
I returned to find Peyton, phone in hand, tossing couch cushions aside. “What’s up?”
“The tracker says my AirPod is here, but I can’t find it.”
I took a different approach, and kneeling down, found the tiny thing under the couch. “Is this it?”
“Thanks.” She grabbed it and scampered off.
Watching her ass as she left was no hardship.
Later, as I lay in bed, I wondered what I would do if it turned out Peyton was an escaped prisoner, or a bail jumper. Did I really want to know? It wasn’t too late to call off Jordy.
My memory drifted to the section of the evening before the mugging, and I felt myself grow hard.
With great difficulty, I pushed back the urge to rub one out to images of Peyton, to memories of the way she felt clinging to me on the bull, the way she smelled, the way she felt on top of me on the mat.
I rolled over. Nope, not going there.
Not tonight.