My Bad

Page 22

Not even a little bit.
That, and my head hurt.
Then again, I lived with a headache about ninety percent of the time.
Honestly, at this point, it was more rare not to wake up with a headache than it was to wake up with one.
My phone vibrated as I was leaving work, and I was thankful it was on silent.
After the day that I’d had, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even the man responsible for not only making my day shit but also making it beautiful.
The last thing on Earth I wanted to deal with, however, was Kelley as I was leaving.
I swear he waited just so he could walk with me out to our cars.
It was weird, because I had a feeling that Kelley wouldn’t park so far out had I not parked so far out.
In fact, I was about eighty percent certain that he had a parking spot in the gated part of the lot where the doctors were allowed to park.
It didn’t make sense for him to park out there unless there was a reason for him to park out there—IE me.
Spotting him lingering by the front crosswalk pretending to talk to a nurse but periodically glancing over the nurse’s shoulders to the door where I normally came out, I winced.
“Want to go the back way?”
I looked up to find Mr. M, the security guard and my savior, standing behind his desk with a raised bushy brow.
“I’d kill for you to take me the back way,” I breathed.
It wasn’t really a back way. It was only a different exit and the use of the golf cart that he parked out by the south entrance where the ambulances parked to unload. I’d have to see Kelley as we passed, but I’d be on the golf cart going fast.
Mr. M never slowed down, and with the plastic around the cart that shielded him from the rain, we both acted like we couldn’t hear Kelley when he called out for a ride.
“Bad day?” Mr. M asked.
I nodded. “Really bad day. My head’s pounding more than usual, too.”
“Stress’ll do that to you,” he surmised. “My girl used to put lemon juice on her forehead and let it dry. I’m not sure if it worked, but she did it every time she got one.”
I smiled. “Sometimes the simplest of things are what works best for me. Lord knows all the other remedies I’ve tried haven’t.”
Mr. M was more than used to me telling him about my headaches. He was also more than used to taking me to my car, because he knew exactly where I parked and he didn’t stop or waiver in his quest to get me to it.
The moment we arrived, I leaned over and placed a kiss on his wrinkly cheek.
“Have a good night, Mr. M,” I said softly. “You’re the best.”
He winked at me as I pushed through the plastic, and waited patiently as I got into my car.
I started it up and didn’t even appreciate the throaty purr of the engine. Instead, I was too busy trying not to cry as the vibration of the engine rocked me uncomfortably.
Waving one last time to Mr. M as he waited for me to back out, I did and pulled out down the street.
I didn’t stop at my usual salad joint that served great grilled chicken salads. Neither did I stop at the gas station for the gas that I promised myself that I would get this morning when I got off of work.
Instead, I drove straight home and was thankful that Hoax’s bike wasn’t at Bayou’s place.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him, it was that I just didn’t want to deal with anything or anyone right then.
I wanted to take a shower, and then lay down in bed and forget the day—well, most of it.
There was a half hour time period that I most certainly wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon, and that wasn’t just because of the soreness between my legs.
After walking into my house and going to the back door to let my dog and pig out, I walked to the fridge and pulled out a few pieces of fruit for Redbird and Bluebird before going to the shower.
Stripping my clothes next to the laundry basket, I tossed them and managed to miss with both my pants and one sock.
I didn’t bend over to pick them up, however. I left them where they were and promised myself I’d get them tomorrow.
That was likely a lie. I’d pick them up three days from now when I was forced to do laundry due to having no work clothes. Until then, the clothes would stay exactly where they fell.
Cranking up the shower to blistering, I stepped inside and felt relief surge through me.
I had three days off, and I was going to spend every single one of them doing nothing.
Hopefully, anyway.
It was in between rinsing my hair of the shampoo suds that a snort had me looking down at Bacon, who was pressing his nose to my glass shower door.
I didn’t wonder how he’d gotten in—I knew that it was Hoax. Nobody else would take their time to let my animals in if they had been in here for ulterior motives.
I left him outside for a reason, though, and Hoax learned that the hard way when he tried to get in the shower with me and Bacon followed him inside.
“Why do you think I leave him outside while I’m showering?” I whispered.
He cursed as he tried to shove Bacon back out, but in the end, Bacon and his massive tub of lard body won.
The moment he realized Hoax was giving up, he flopped himself down between my legs and allowed the shower spray to hit him fully.
I continued my shower, used to this, causing Hoax to stare at me in wonder.
“There was a rather large piece of bacon walking down Bayou’s driveway, and I thought I’d bring him home before Bayou decided to smoke him.” That voice sent chills down my spine.
I smiled but didn’t talk.
“You okay?” he asked, rubbing my shoulders with his large, strong hands.
He too was having to straddle Bacon, but he didn’t act like he cared.
He’d come to tolerate a lot from my animals over the last week.
I shook my head. “Headache.”
His hands moved up the length of my neck, causing my legs to feel like putty at the sheer relief he brought on with his skillful fingers.
“You take something for it?” he asked, sounding too knowledgeable for his own good.
“I always have headaches,” I murmured to the man behind me. “Nothing touches them. Not Motrin. Not Tylenol. Not even Excedrin that’s supposed to be made for migraine sufferers. Hell, I’ve even tried prescriptions from my doctor. Other than helping me lose ten pounds, that didn’t help, either.”
Handing him the shampoo, I moved toward the conditioner and loaded so much into my palm that some would’ve thought it was too much.
It wasn’t.
Not only had my mother graced me with her good looks, but I also got her mass of curly, thick hair. It took a lot of conditioner to keep my locks in a somewhat manageable state.
Once I had the conditioner lathered in well, I put the bottle down and reached for the soap while keeping my hair out of the spray. Spray in which Hoax reached over to remove the shower head in order to rinse the suds from his hair.
With the way Bacon was positioned, we couldn’t get close enough to each other to share the spray.
“This is wild,” he said softly. “Who knew pigs liked water?”
“He likes mud more,” I admitted. “But I don’t do mud.”
When I pulled the soap out of the shower caddy I had it resting on, it slipped from my hands. It rolled down the side of the shower and wedged between the wall and the pig.
Hoax started to laugh and bent over to reach for the soap. As he did, I got a good view of his muscular back, and a tendril of want poured through me. I reached forward and ran one finger along his spine, trailing it upward until I met his hairline.
He stood back up with the soap, and I let my hand drop away.
“Here,” he said, placing the soap in my hands.
I smiled, but it instantly fell away when even the slightest movement of lifting my cheeks caused my brain to pound.
Hoax missed nothing, though.
Taking the soap back from me, he rubbed it along my body.
It wasn’t sexual. He did it quickly and methodically, not stopping until every single part of me was squeaky clean.
Though, I did see that his cock was rock hard.
“Rinse your hair,” he ordered.
I did, letting my head fall back and my eyes fall closed as I let the water pour down over me.