Chapter 55
Tim Sadlier managed to get through eight long chapters of the fantasy novel he was reading before Sabine Drew reappeared. He put it away as soon as he saw her, storing it in his jacket pocket. He really didn’t want her to ask what he was reading.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“How are you feeling?”
“I asked first.”
He removed the book from his pocket and showed it to her. She took it from him and read the synopsis on the back cover.
“Do they actually have sex on the dragons?”
Heat rose to Sadlier’s cheeks.
“Not in this one,” he said. “Not yet.”
“One can only live in hope, I suppose.” She handed the book back.
“I’ve always believed that escapism is underrated and we should never feel guilty about our reading pleasures, within reason.
If I’d discovered you reading The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, I’d have been obliged to call that taxi after all. ”
Sadlier didn’t know what The Protocols of the Elders of Zion might be, but was now determined to avoid it, or them, at all costs.
“So how are you feeling?” he asked again.
“Sore, and wrapped up like a mummy, but there’s no internal damage, the fracture apart.
I’ve been instructed to rest, ice the area a couple of times a day, do my breathing exercises, and take ibuprofen for the pain.
I’m also supposed to cough regularly.” She coughed, then winced.
“But I may interpret ‘regularly’ loosely.”
“What about driving?”
“I’m okay to drive.”
Sadlier did his best to hide his disappointment. His best wasn’t good enough, though, because Sabine noticed.
“But,” she added, “I’m going to hold off on heading home until tomorrow. It’s been a long day, and I’m too tired and achy to drive for hours. I took a room last night at the Motor Inn, and I doubt they’ll refuse me a second night. I’m worried about my car, though.”
“It’ll be safe where it is,” said Sadlier. “But if it’ll make you happier, I can ask someone in town to head out there with me and drive it back. I know a few people who’d be happy to do it.”
Sabine said that she thought she might prefer to have the car where she could see it. Sadlier told her that he’d drop her at the inn and take care of the car after.
“And then I’d like a stiff drink,” said Sabine, “and something to eat. Perhaps you might care to join me? The least I can do is buy you dinner in return for your assistance. We might have to dine at the Motor Inn, though. I don’t really feel up to another long ride.”
Tim Sadlier grinned like a Halloween jack-o’-lantern and said he thought that would be fine, just fine.
“But my treat,” he added. “You’re the visitor. And the patient.”
Sabine didn’t argue. She was, she thought, getting rather good at staying out of her own way.