Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

Grady just smiles as he shakes Dad’s hand, and Dad gives me a curious glance. I ignore it.

Mom steps out onto the porch and shields her eyes with her hand. Then she comes close, hugs me and greets Grady, and ushers Grandma into the house because Grandma’s suddenly so upset she can barely stand. They say grief hits everyone differently and at different times. I guess Grandma’s has just hit her.

“You want to eat?” Dad asks. “There’s plenty of food.” He jerks a thumb toward the house. “Somebody even brought breakfast.”

“You hungry, Grady?” I ask him.

He shakes his head as he yawns. “No, not really, but thanks.”

“Dad, I have to get some sleep. I’ll be back later.”

Dad goes and gets Grandma’s suitcase out of the trunk, and Grady and I get back into the car. “I’m dead on my feet,” Grady says as I back out of the driveway.

I know there’s a pretty nice hotel about three miles from here. It’s right on the beach. I stayed there the last time our family visited Aunt Cathy. I pull up to the front and park, and I can barely hold my eyes open. “I need a shower,” I say.

“Me too,” he replies. He lifts his nose to the air. “I smell salt.”

“The ocean,” I tell him. “We can go see it later. Sleep first.”

We get my bag and his and walk to the front desk. “One room or two?” the clerk asks, as she looks from me to Grady and back.

“Do you want to sleep with me, Grady?” I ask him.

“At this point, I don’t care where I sleep. If you make me stand here much longer, I’m going to curl up in that potted palm.” He yawns big, and I can see all his fillings.

“One room is fine,” I say as I hand her my credit card.

Grady lays his face on the desk and looks over at me. “You going to be able to keep your hands to yourself, Clifford?”

The clerk tries to hide her smile, but I see it. “Right now, you could wag your dick in my face and I’d totally ignore it, Grady Parker. I’m too tired.”

The clerk hands over two key cards and returns my license and credit card to me. “Breakfast is still available if you want to grab something to take up with you.”

I arch my brows at Grady. “Sleep,” he says on a groan, and he stands back up to his full height. I grab his arm and pull him and my suitcase toward our room.

I shove open the door to our room, and a burst of cool air hits us. Grady walks toward the bed and prepares to fall onto it.

“No!” I cry.

Grady jumps and stares at me. “What’s wrong?”

I have a thing about clean beds and clean people in them. I don’t put my shoes on my bed, an

d I don’t put my dirty body in my bed. And I don’t let anybody else do it either. “You are not getting in that bed without a shower.”

“I don’t want a shower, I want sleep,” he grumbles.

I grab him and turn him toward the bathroom. “Go get clean. Then you can get in bed.”

“I’m too tired,” he whines.

I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.

“Sleeeeep,” he groans as I go for his belt buckle.

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me do all the work,” I complain as I shove his pants down. He toes out of his shoes and hooks his socks with his big toes one at a time so he can shuck them off too. He stumbles toward the bathroom in his boxers. I reach past him and turn on the shower, and then I start to take my clothes off too.

His eyes get big as he watches me, and he perks up a little. “Now you’re talking.”