Ariana lied back on her couch, staring at her ceiling. The shitty day coated her like she’d been caught in an oil slick, and it dragged her down, making her limbs heavy and her breathing labored, as if she’d inhaled too many fumes. She’d at least had the satisfaction of hearing from Vince, but that didn’t win him any brownie points. He was still on her shit list right now.
Now, it was after midnight, and she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Kimberly Cobb’s face, her eyes and mouth gaping open in death. Kimberly Cobb, she reminded herself. So many of her patients remained nameless, but she wasn’t going to forget the ones she lost. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get rid of the image, either, despite the fact that she hadn’t even seen the woman’s eyes. In her mind, they were black, as if her pupils had dilated to consume the irises, and bloodshot. It was a nightmare, and it made her fear falling asleep.
Her phone, resting on the coffee table just within arm’s reach, buzzed, and she scowled. Who would be calling at this hour? But she realized she only knew one person who kept hours like this, and her heart skipped a beat. That alone made her think about ignoring the call. Good sex or not, she shouldn’t look forward to hearing from Vince so eagerly.
But she had started this game of phone tag, so she would be the one to end it. She answered. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Great, she thought. This was going to be incredibly awkward. “I’m sorry it took me a while to get back to you. I’ve been a little busy. I had some business to take care of out of town, and it sort of followed me home.”
Ariana opened her mouth to ask what happened, but then she remembered that she probably didn’t want to know about his business dealings. “I caught that on your voicemail,” she said instead. “Something about Larson Industries.”
“Yeah, I have a trucking company. We’re not big, really, but we make decent money.”
That explained his ability to take off at a moment’s notice for something to do with biker business. Again, something she didn’t want to ask about. “So, is everything alright?”
“I got it worked out for the moment. We’ll see if the contract holds or not.” There was a pause. “You sounded upset on your message.”
He didn’t know the half of it. She’d left that yesterday, when she was full of anger and frustration. Today, her mood was completely different—even worse, in its way—and she didn’t really want to talk about it. “I’ve had a rough couple of days. Last night, I was hoping…” She trailed off. What was she supposed to say? I was hoping I could make a booty call. “I just thought maybe we could make an arrangement.”
She heard the chuckle at the other end of the line and blushed. She should have known better than to say something like that. “Well, I wasn’t in town last night, but I’m back now. And I have to tell you, with my leg hurting from the long ride, I could really use a kind touch.”
She winced. She couldn’t imagine how bad he must be hurting. If Ariana cared about anything, it was his health. The doctor inside rearing its ugly head. “Okay. I’m not sure—”
“Why don’t you give me your address?” he cut her off.
She was at a loss for words. Her apartment was a mess, books scattered everywhere and coffee mugs all over the kitchen. Her garbage was full of microwave dinner boxes, and she didn’t even remember the last time she’d scoured the bathroom. Not that any of that mattered, she thought, gritting her teeth. What did she care what Vince thought of her place? And did she even want him over here? “Maybe you shouldn’t be riding anymore with that leg. In fact, you should probably have it elevated.”
“I’ve been elevating it all evening, doc.” She shivered at the term. It was her dream to actually earn the title. “The biggest problem is that I’m out of pain meds. Those ER guys don’t give you shit to last for more than a couple of days, as if I’m some kind of Wolverine with instant regenerative abilities.” She knew that all too well. “But it doesn’t really matter, since my bike is a mangled pile that got carried away for scrap metal. I won’t have a ride like that again till tomorrow or the next day, whenever I find something that, uh, butters my toast.”
She cringed at the use of her phrase. “So why did you want my address?” she asked, confused. Was he going to take a cab? If he had to cross the reservation, it was going to cost him a fortune.
“I do have a truck. I can’t exactly haul shit with the bike. And I can drive.” Ariana felt like an idiot for not thinking about that. “So, are you giving me your address, or have you already satisfied your own needs?”
The humor in his tone rattled her, and she had a feeling he was imagining her in her bedroom with her hands between her legs. It wasn’t the most pleasant of ideas, and yet, the thought of him thinking about her made Ariana feel a tingle low in her stomach. “No, nosy, I haven’t indulged.”
“Then maybe you should give me your address, and we can both let off some steam.”
What the hell, she thought, and gave it to him. He said he’d see her in a bit, and she had no idea how long that was as he hung up. Did that mean five minutes or an hour? Rushing around, she threw her cups in the dishwasher and put on some fresh coffee. Even if she didn’t drink it, the smell would be enticing. Then, she went to the bedroom and shoved all the clothes strewn across the floor into her closet, making it appear as though she was somewhat neat. Luckily, the bathroom was clean enough, and she relaxed, only to realize she was in an old, ugly set of sweats with holes. What was she supposed to wear for something like this?
Eventually, Ariana pulled out a pair of satin pajamas she never wore and changed, the knock at the door startling her. She checked the clock; it had taken him less than fifteen minutes to get here. Either he’d driven like Dale Earnhart Jr to get here, or he didn’t live across the reservation.