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Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4)

Page 51

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“Out of the question,” West replied. “You have a head injury. You’re in no condition to assume the care and feeding of anything right now.”

“He’s not going to be any trouble, are you, boy?” She nuzzled the dog. It licked her cheek.

“Addy will have a fit. My lease doesn’t mention pets.”

Roxy aimed a pointed look at him. “Addy will have a fit if we turn our backs on a scared, abandoned animal.”

True. Their landlord had a soft heart. He felt himself losing this battle. “We don’t have any food or supplies—”

“Consider that handled,” Shaun said. “Give me thirty minutes and someone will bring the basics to your place.”

“Oh, hey, thanks,” he said sarcastically.

Shaun smiled on his way out. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You got that right,” West said under his breath and turned to Roxy. “Okay. Fine. We’ll take him for one night. Hold onto the dog,” he added before lifting her—dog and all—into his arms.

The mutt whined once and then wisely kept quiet. Roxy wasn’t as wise. “West, don’t. I can walk, you know,” she continued as he carried her out of the exam room.

“Good night, Ellie,” he called. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Roxy, call me tomorrow and let me know how you’re doing. And get rest. Lots of rest.”

“That’s not resting,” West scolded as Roxy continued to fidget in his arms while he made his way to the car.

“I know you don’t think much of my capabilities, but I’m actually very accustomed to taking care of myself.”

Too accustomed, by his judgment, since that sense of self-reliance propelled her to do unsafe things like attempt to singlehandedly tackle the kind of asshole who would beat a dog. But pointing out her lapses in judgment just now would start a fight—one she didn’t need, and he didn’t want to have—so he dug deep for a better response. “I’m in awe of many of your capabilities.” He leaned in a little awkwardly and opened the passenger door with a spare finger. “But tonight,

try to have a little faith in mine, okay?”

He deposited her in the passenger seat and waited until she’d buckled herself in and situated the dog on her lap. “Okay, Roxy?”

She looked up at him. The dome light accented the bandage around her head and the shadows of fatigue under her eyes. He couldn’t image what she saw on his face, but she nodded. “Okay.”

When he got behind the wheel, the dog whined again. She stroked the ugly thing. “He probably needs a walk tonight.”

“I know.” He started the engine and glanced behind him before backing out. “I’ll take care of it as soon as we’re home and you have some ice on your head.”

“Thanks.”

He felt her gaze on him and sensed something more on her mind, but she stuck with the single word response.

“You’re welcome. Anything else?”

“Well, actually…no.” She shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to be more trouble.”

That was the problem. One of the problems, at any rate. He wanted her to trouble him. Wanted her to trust him with her troubles. “Faith in my capabilities, remember? Tell me what you need.”

“Could we—could you—swing by Rawley’s and let me get Gibson?”

Rawley’s was in the other direction, at least a fifteen-minute detour when he’d been hoping to have her home, with two Tylenol working on the headache, and an ice bag working on the swelling in a fraction of that time. “I’m sure your guitar is safe. Earl’s got decent security inside the pub. He’s not interested in taking losses to his inventory or the cash drawer.”

“I know, but…” She shrugged a little helplessly. “I’ll sleep better knowing Gibson’s home.”

Of course she would. And sleep, according to Ellie, would help her recover. On top of that, he wanted a word with Jeb sooner rather than later—a word about the poorly lit deathtrap behind the pub, a word about what the hell some hick with violent tendencies would be doing loitering there, and a word or two about what had prompted Jeb to visit the dumpster at such a random time of the evening. Earl’s only son wasn’t the kind of man to haul out the trash. He had kitchen help to handle the dirty work while he concentrated on trying to hook up with every single woman seated at the bar.

His instincts told him Jeb knew exactly who had been back there, because the situation smacked of pre-arrangement. Roxy’s presence had screwed whatever meet he’d planned. “All right.” He sent a stern look Roxy’s way. “I’ll do it, as long as you promise to stay put. I’ll go get your guitar.”



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