Page 119 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

THEO

I was on Mav’s huge sectional watching Dex’s hockey game on his big screen TV.

Scout was snoring on his plush dog bed in front of the fire.

It was pumping out the heat and I didn’t know how he could lay that close without overheating, especially with all his fur.

The front door opened, and Bridge bolted from her spot beside Mav.

I heard whispers and glanced at Mav, who was sprawled low on the other side of the sectional, his socked feet propped up on the coffee table.

We’d cleaned up dinner of spaghetti and garlic bread.

The kitchen was clean, and I was lazy and full.

I’d make it back to my little house, but I wasn’t in any rush.

A perfect Sunday evening, the kind I never knew existed.

Being lazy. Full. A beer in hand. Good sports on TV. Hanging with family. A fire and a dog.

Two weeks ago, I was either in the OR or sleeping in my bare, boring apartment before another long shift at the hospital. It had been the same, day after day. Patients, operations, sleep. Repeat.

“I can’t believe you got conned into speaking at career day,” Mav commented.

“Conned? Blackmail. I was in the back of a destroyed car trying not to succumb to claustrophobia. I didn’t have much choice.”

Maybe there were a few downsides to small-town life.

Mac and the crew of firefighters had that totaled car pulled to pieces well within the ten-minute window for being forced to speak at Mac’s kid’s school assembly.

I’d been covered in a blanket and hadn’t seen them at work, but they’d blown out the back window, sawed through the roof supports and opened that thing up like a tin can.

A medic had climbed in and settled beside me, offering me pretend injury assessment and placed a cervical collar around my neck.

She’d been following protocol and her skills were excellent.

So was her lady balls for climbing inside the back of a wrecked car, pretend or on a real scene.

Once the Jaws of Life had pried open the back door, I’d been carefully loaded onto a backboard and placed on a stretcher in one of the ambulances for continued mock patient care.

After I’d been freed from the straps and neck brace, Mac had transitioned the training to me being the doctor I was and the EMTs and paramedics giving me a report on the fake patient they’d just saved. I had newfound confidence in the town’s emergency services.

After cleanup, we’d shifted the meal from dinner to lunch and gone to the same restaurant/bar that I went to with my brothers over the summer. After burgers and a few beers, it seemed I made friends with all of Hunter Valley Fire Department. I wasn’t sure if they liked me, or that I paid.

There was no question Jeff–who’d volunteered me for that morning of fun–knew what I’d been in for. Most likely he and Verna were still laughing about it, even a day later.

“You don’t even like kids,” Mav reminded. “How are you going to keep an assembly of them from falling asleep?”

I titled my head and glared at my brother. “I like kids,” I grumbled. I didn’t really, for no other reason than I didn’t know any.

“What? You?” he shrugged. “You don’t.”

Out of the corner of my eye Bridget and Mallory–heads close together–cut past the great room and up the stairs. Mallory didn’t stop to say hi, didn’t even look this way.

At the quick glimpse of her as she went by, my dick stirred. I hadn’t seen her since I left her in the parking lot on Thursday in that sexy dress and fake garter tights. Oh, and little yellow panties.

I shifted lower on the couch to get more comfortable with an instant hard-on.

I’d wanted to see her since, but I wasn’t going to go after her, no matter how eager my dick was. It had been sex. Or almost sex. My dick–yes, he was in fucking charge–knew the difference. Sex meant he was getting some action with a hot, wet, tight pussy. Almost sex meant some time with my hand.

“What’s up with that?” I wondered, tipping my chin in the direction the women went.

Mav kept his eyes on the game and shrugged. “She was in Vegas.”

I frowned. “Mallory was in Vegas?”

“Bachelorette party.”

Bachelorette party?

“Why are they whispering and hiding upstairs?”

A foghorn blared from the TV, indicating a goal. While Scout had slept through Mallory coming in the house, the sound startled him awake. He stood, circled three times, then dropped back down.

I caught the instant replay. Dex had scored again. The close up of his face as he grinned and fist bumped down the team bench made my night.

“Contrary to what you might think, Bridge doesn’t tell me everything,” Mav said. “There are some things I really don’t want to know. Like if Mal fucked a dude in Vegas.”

I sat up, placed my beer on the coffee table with a little more effort than necessary.

“A dude?” I asked, my voice practically a snarl.

“Whatever. I don’t need to know about her sex life.” He stood, pointed at my beer bottle. “Want another?”

I nodded. He headed for the kitchen and left me alone to wonder why I was so pissed off about that possibility.

Mallory wasn’t mine. A little finger banging didn’t mean we were getting married.

Hell, I hadn’t even kissed her. Based off of that alone, the fact that I’d gotten in her panties without any kissing meant it was just sex.

My dick twitched, reminding me it hadn’t been sex since all the action he saw Thursday night was me jacking off in the shower, then again in bed. All Mallory and I shared was almost sex.

I glanced up the stairs. Were they up there right now doing a play-by-play of a wild one-night stand? I had to know because no dude was getting that pussy. It was mine.