“Why do you work night shift now?” I asked. “You’ve been on the force long enough that you really shouldn’t have to.”
He pulled me lightly to the side, and I felt the brush of a table skirt against my leg before he answered.
“I like night shift,” he answered. “It’s more exciting. More things happen. It feels like I’m not twiddling my thumbs like I do on day shift.” He paused. “There’s the bathroom. Can you make it on your own?”
I thought about the layout of the bathroom from my trip in there earlier to wash my hands after getting my cake.
“Yes,” I answered. “But… just stay right there, okay?”
The place was really dark, and I’d never really been good with it.
To be honest, I disliked the dark. That was why I always had a small lamp or night light in every room of the house except for Asa’s—who, like his father, hated even the little bit of light. Though, that hadn’t started until after Asa had started spending his weekends over there when Booth had gotten back from deployment.
When that happened, Asa wanted to be exactly like his daddy in every way.
“I’ll wait right here,” he said as he pushed the door open for me. “Holler if you need anything.”
I sure hoped I wouldn’t.
And I was right, I didn’t.
After doing my business and washing my hands, I made my way back to the door, only slightly freaking out.
My hand felt for the doorknob, but before I could open it, it swung open.
“Ready?” Bourne asked.
I gasped in surprise at his sudden appearance.
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly. “It’s really freakin’ dark in here. I only thought it was dark out there, but yeah.”
He caught up my hand, and I was slightly embarrassed because my hands were still slightly damp.
They’d run out of paper towels of course. I’d had to use a measly little sliver of one to dry off with, and it hadn’t done a good enough job.
“Sorry, they ran out of paper towels, and it was too dark to search for some more,” I admitted.
He squeezed my hand a little tighter. “I only assumed.”
I felt a grin spread on my face. “I didn’t want you thinking that I peed all over it or something.”
He chuckled.
“Delanie, you’re extremely anal when it comes to hygiene. I can’t tell you how many times I hear ‘Mommy doesn’t like me to touch doorknobs with my bare hands’ when we’re out in public with Asa. I know that you’d wash your hands after going to the bathroom,” he rumbled.
I felt my face flush as he once again guided me through the room.
“Well,” I said. “Do you know how many germs are on a door handle? It’s disgusting. I watched a television series on germs once. For instance, do you know how many people walk out of the bathroom without washing their hands? That’s why I make Asa use a paper towel when he leaves. Because what if someone did, in fact, pee all over their hands and then not wash them? That’s gross.”
He chuckled. “I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing. I’m just explaining why I knew that you wouldn’t have peed on your hands.”
I snickered. “Okay. Well, just remember the towel on the handle in the bathroom trick, okay?”
He squeezed my hand again. “Will do.”
We passed multiple conversations, laughter, a few flashlights, and the cake before I tugged on his arm.
“Wait, I want another piece of cake,” I said.
He came to a halt, and then he moved.
“I don’t have good enough vision to see the cake,” he admitted. “But I did want another beer. And the bartender is down there with a flashlight. Let me leave you here, he can shine that down here long enough for you to get cake, and I’ll come back for you, okay?”
And that was exactly what he did.
I made sure to cut Bourne a hearty piece of the delicacy as well, just in case he’d wanted some, too.
If he didn’t want it, well then I’d just have to eat it as well so it wouldn’t go to waste.
When he came back, I had my hands full of the cake, so he took my elbow as he led me the rest of the way to our table.
When we finally arrived, Sammy still wasn’t back.
I placed my cake on the table, knocking over an empty beer bottle as I did.
I cursed and tried to catch it before it hit the ground.
I did, but only after nearly dropping my cake.
“Shit,” I said as I nearly bobbled the plate.
That was when I realized that I was bent down, and my lips were against something hard.
Something really hard.
And warm.
And belonging to Bourne.
I slowly shifted away, careful of my plate, and said, “I’m sorry.”
There was a long moment of silence then Bourne said, “I’m not.”
A long pause followed his comment, and at first, I thought that maybe I was just making things up. Feeling things where I shouldn’t be.