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“Where do you think?” He climbed back under the covers on his side and reached for his hot water. “From the faucet.”
“You came in there while I was in the shower?” He could have seen her standing under the spray. Maybe not too much with the steamed-up glass, but he had a lot of nerve.
He sipped. “We registered as a couple.”
“You think we qualify?” They hadn’t had sex, unless exchanging combustible glances counted.
“We qualify.” Mitch tucked his arm behind his head. “At least as far as the clerk downstairs is concerned.”
“I’ll set him straight in the morning.”
“He probably only works the night shift.”
The night shift made her think of sweaty men working in a factory, their shirts soaked down the chest and under the arms, bending over the women in their beds… Stay out of the gutter.
Mitch turned toward her, raising an eyebrow.
“Right.” She mugged. “Ohmigod.” Red slashed across his face where Fedora Guy had pistol-whipped him.
She touched Mitch’s cheek. “You should get that cleaned up.”
“The rain pretty much washed it out. It’s stopped bleeding now, anyway.”
“You have a tetanus shot?”
“All my shots are current as of six months ago. Relax.”
Easier said than done.
She let the hot liquid warm her from within. “You think my brother lied to Justin about going to the drug dealer?”
“I don’t know, but based on the way those guys were talking, they wouldn’t have cared about you if they had already seen him.”
“Either Les never went to the wharf, or he came and left before we got there.” Cath set her cup on her side table. Her insides twisted into a bundle like the one in which she’d carried her and her brother’s worldly possessions when they were homeless. She’d been watching out for Les ever since, but worrying about him got her nowhere. Was it selfish to want a break from being big sister?
She straightened the covers, glancing again at the ugly cut on Mitch’s face. “If I hadn’t gotten us involved in this mess tonight, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
The mattress shifted. A warm masculine hand encircled her wrist. “We’re okay for tonight. Isn’t that worth celebrating?”
“Definitely.” They could have died tonight. They could die tomorrow. “You think this place has champagne?”
“I know it does.” He reached into a drawer and handed her a laminated room-service menu.
She scanned the listing. “You’re right. There’s a bottle of bubbly here.”
Mitch lifted the room phone. “You want me to call down now?”
“Don’t you dare.” She caught his arm. “The night manager looked like the only one on duty. He needs to stay where he is and protect the front desk. This is fine.”
“Cheers.” Mitch tapped his paper cup against hers, his brown eyes telling her in no uncertain terms the way he wanted to celebrate. They drank in silence, a silence growing heavier and heavier with all their unspoken words—and the thump of his paper cup on the table. “We done?”
“I doubt I can sleep, but go ahead. I’ll try not to keep you awake.”
His shoulder touched hers. His warm breath caressed her cheek as he smoothed her hair from her forehead. “Your back won’t hurt so much tomorrow.”
“I’m not even thinking about that.” Exhaustion should be laying her low, but her body tingled with a fresh awareness. She wanted to hold on to that newness as long as she could.
He shifted back to his side of the blanket barrier and frowned. “Are you hurt someplace else?”