10. Scott
TEN
SCOTT
Unknown: I have a business proposition for you.
Unknown: Call me before it’s too late.
“You alright?” I ask, gently bumping Naz’s arm with mine as we make our way out of the hospital. It feels like we’ve been there for days, when it’s only been a few hours.
I overheard the conversation between him, his grandparents, and the doctor, and I really feel for them all.
I can’t imagine how hard it would be to lose your independence like that, to have people think you’re not capable just because you’re old.
But that’s not what Naz thinks. If anything, he’s been doing exactly what the doctor said, trying to help them keep their independence.
He just wants them safe. And however much they might stress him out and treat him like a disappointment, he loves them and wants them closer, too.
I can feel the stress rolling off him in waves and hope there’s something I can do to lessen his burden.
Naz blows out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.
Glad that part is over with.” He rifles through the small stack of pamphlets and papers he was given after a short meeting with one of the hospital coordinators to work out details about what he’ll need and who to contact.
“Do you mind driving? I need to make a list of who to call first and do some research for the best home health services.”
“Happy to,” I say, taking the key fob he holds out to me. “But Emmy’s already on it.”
“What?”
I shrug. “While I was waiting, I called Blake’s office to check in. Emmy asked what we were up to, and I told him a little about your grandfather being in the hospital. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t have an excuse ready for where we were or why we were here.”
The actual reason I called was to talk to Blake or Cory about the text messages, but they were in a meeting with someone way too important to interrupt. It’s fine. I’ll call them back later. I’m probably making this a bigger deal than it is.
“It’s okay,” he says, shrugging. “It wasn’t a secret or anything.”
I wipe imaginary sweat from my brow. “Phew. Good. I was worried I’d be in trouble for opening my big mouth.”
Naz cracks at least a small grin, and I kind of feel like my insides are radioactive. I don’t know if it’s my fried nerves or just being around him. It’s probably some combination of both. The protectiveness I feel over him is heavier than ever right now.
“Well, Emmy is, well… being Emmy. You’ll probably have a short list of fully vetted and background-checked, overqualified home health nurses to interview by tomorrow.”
“Sounds about right,” he says, laughing softly as he climbs into the passenger seat.
I hope I’m not imagining his shoulders relaxing a bit, releasing some of the tension he’s been holding since I showed up yesterday.
As much as I’m happy to be out here with him, I’m acutely aware that I’ve infringed on his peace.
Not only by showing up and pushing myself into his space, but by bringing the real world with me in the form of actually being reachable by phone.
Not that anyone has bothered him. He was the one who called his grandparents.
The only difference was that he didn’t have to leave and go up to the big house to make the call.
My phone is really the only one that’s been pinging. And damn if I haven’t been tempted to turn it off and pretend it doesn’t exist. If I didn’t need to be reachable in case of emergency, I probably would.
I would like nothing better than to burrow into Naz’s sexy little hermit cave with him and never come up for air. Surrounding myself with nothing but him makes it too easy to forget everything that’s been happening and get wrapped up in far more interesting events…
Like whatever that was that happened between us last night. Not that Naz is likely to acknowledge it at all.
What he needs—what we both need—is a distraction.
To get out of our heads and forget the real world for just a little while, because it’s all going to come crashing back once his grandparents are officially moved in, and as soon as the investigators have found the person behind the bomb threat and he has to go back to his life in the public eye, balancing not just stardom but all the extra attention the recent drama and attacks have brought them.
It just so happens that getting my pet out of his head is my specialty. And distracting him is exactly what I need to get out of mine.
The first step is breaking through the barriers he puts up when he’s overthinking or stressed, and to not let him retreat into himself, which he’s already starting to do. I need his attention on me.
If we were home already, all it would take is a look or a command to snap him out of it and let him know it was time to play, but since we’re in public, and there’s always the chance someone could be watching, now isn’t the time or place.
This also isn’t a good time to poke the bear. I’m not above doing things to provoke him just to get a reaction. That can lead to a good time, but I’m already pushing my luck by just being here, and I would rather him want me to stick around even if he never admits it out loud.
The answer to cracking the first layer ends up coming naturally.
As it turns out, laughing at me is a favorite pastime of his, and since I’m currently thinking too hard about what I should do next and not paying attention to what I’m supposed to be doing, it’s not hard to make myself look like a punchline.
Starting with stuffing myself into the driver’s seat of the smallest so-called-crossover vehicle I’ve ever seen, only to struggle to figure out all the knobs and levers to adjust the seat, somehow giving myself even less space, crushing my crotch against the steering wheel, and accidentally honking the horn several times while I try to maneuver myself into a position I can drive in.
We’re off to a good start.
Then, as we’re pulling out of the parking lot, the first time I really give the car any gas, we shoot forward so fast, my head hits the headrest like we’re on some kind of g-force astronaut training machine. I gasp so loudly you’d think I’d lost control of the vehicle.
“Jesus Christ.”
Naz is too busy laughing to even worry that I could have wrecked his car. “She’s got some torque.”
“Ya think?”
He shrugs. “It’s electric.”
“It’s possessed.”
As much as I’ve been enjoying poking fun at Naz’s little tree-hugger mom mobile, I’m actually pretty impressed by it.
Once we hit the highway, I let it fly while Naz gives me a rundown on the Volvo company and how they are working to improve the supply chain to lessen the environmental and human-rights risks involved in the manufacturing of EV batteries. I didn’t even know that was a thing.
“Sometimes it astounds me how fucking smart you are.”
Naz gives me an odd look.
“What? I don’t think anyone else in the world puts that much thought into their car purchases. Most people look at horsepower and gas mileage, maybe the prestige of a luxury brand. You drive a Volvo.”
“I looked at those other things too. I just really hate Elon Musk.”
That gets another laugh out of me.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, noticing we’re about to pass the last exit that has any decent food or stores outside the city.
It’s been a few hours since lunch, and I’m not sure how much he actually ate.
I had some of my favorite barbecue in the Raleigh area delivered after checking it was okay with the nurse in charge of Mr. Lester’s care.
And, despite being eyed by Mrs. Lester for most of the morning, I overheard the tiniest bit of praise about choosing a locally owned restaurant rather than a chain.
And Mr. Lester, despite the nurse mentioning a poor appetite, ate more than half of his pulled pork and baked potato.
I tried to discreetly pass Naz a granola bar from the vending machine as he was leaving the room to meet with the care coordinator about details for Mr. Lester’s needs, but then his grandmother came out right behind him, and the looks she’d been giving me all morning made me low-key afraid to interact with him at all, so I just straightened my posture like one of those guards at Buckingham Palace and averted my eyes.
“Nah, I’m still good from earlier. Thanks again.”
“Any time.”
He smiles at me, and something about the softness of it shocks me. I can’t look away.
Until Naz shakes himself out of the moment and then points at the road in front of us. “Wanna pay attention to the road, maybe?”
Not wanting him to overthink the moment we just shared, I flash him a smirk and hit the gas.
“How fast can this thing go?”
“Fast enough to get us arrested.”
“But you can afford to bail me out, right?”
He scoffs. “How about you find out? Then you can sleep in your own little bunk and make new friends in a nice cell for the night.”
We banter back and forth like that the rest of the way home, not talking about anything important, leaving the seriousness of the last few days behind us.
And while I don’t quite reach top speed, I’m lucky enough that we don’t get slowed down by any traffic or pulled over, because by the time we make it back to the trailer, I’m raring to go.
Snarky Naz always gets me all kinds of hot and bothered.
It’s like he’s just asking to be put on his knees.
We don’t even make it through the front door before I smack him on the ass so hard the sound carries.
“Alright, pet, go get yourself cleaned out and prepped. I expect you face down and ass up on your bed in the next twenty minutes.”
Naz stumbles a little, then pauses, taking a moment to process what I’ve just said.
I can’t see his face, so I only have his body language to go by to know if I’m on the right track or not.
He knows he can say no at any time, that’s part of the understanding between us, but based on the goosebumps that break out over the back of his neck, I’d say I have him intrigued.