CHAPTER NINE
"Joslin?" Spencer's voice carries into the bathroom.
I spit out the last of the toothpaste and drop the brand-new toothbrush Spencer brought home for me four days ago into the little container next to the sink. "Yeah?"
"Where's the condom?"
"Huh?" I squeeze my hair in the towel to quicken the drying process and walk out of his en-suite bathroom.
"I tossed the condom on the floor. Right here." He points to an empty area on his hardwood floor.
"What? You threw it… on the floor?"
Spencer leans over on his knees, searching under the bed. "Yes."
"The floor?"
"Yes."
"You just threw it down?"
"Yes, that's what I do every time."
"Every time?" My mouth falls open in disgust. How did I not know this was going on?
"Yes. What did you think I did with them?"
My eyes widen when I realize he's serious. "Put them in the trash like a normal person."
"I don’t have a trash bin in the bedroom." He leans over further to check under the bed, his right arm getting lost as he feels under the space.
"Obviously."
Spencer stands up, wiping off the knees of his tight-fitting jeans. "I haven't needed a trash can in here.”
"Spencer, I've been here five days." We’re on our second box of condoms.
"I'll pick up a trash can after your shift today." He flops onto the bed and sprawls across it to look on the other side. It’s a great view, leaving his ass firm and clenched.
"Yeah…about that." Spencer has been my shadow at work every single day. While Ridge and his team have been out looking to break up whatever crime ring left a dead guy at a house in the woods, Spencer’s filing non-confidential phone messages at the nurses’ desk.
The first few days, none of us at the hospital could complain about having a hot guy follow me around, but now his constant presence is harder to explain to my boss. This has to end.
Soon.
I toss the towel into his wicker hamper next to the bathroom door. "I think…maybe…today I should go alone."
He looks up from searching the other side. "No."
"No?"
He slides off the bed and crosses his arms, straightening to his full, imposing height. Sometimes I forget how tall—and intimidating—Spencer is. Even while naked.
Except I’ve spent the last five days with him. Spencer might look tough, but underneath all that black clothing is a guy who watched two hours of Mary Tyler Moore reruns with me last night. I don’t find him so scary.
We continue our silent stare-off, and when I don’t give in, Spencer relaxes his posture. “This is serious, Joslin.”
"Nothing has happened to me. Nothing has happened to anyone. The plants in my house are probably dying." It’s the truth, and he can't deny it. Much to all the guys’ irritation, there hasn't been a peep of any criminal element activity in days. Apparently, even gangsters take time off for the holidays.
"I didn’t see any plants at your house the last time I was there."
Damn. It would be my luck to jump into bed with a guy who’s super observant. "They're there."
"No."
"But Spencer, the plants." This time, it's me who crosses my arms in defiance.
It doesn't work. "No."
"You're crazy."
"You say crazy, I say keeping you safe. After your shift today, we’ll swing by your house so you can water the plants."
Hmmm. That could be a problem because when Spencer gets to my house, he won’t find any plants.
"On second thought," I laugh flatly, "I'll just call Regina and have her stop by. I don’t want to put myself in any unnecessary danger."
Spencer smiles, and it's a little too smug—like he knows exactly what just happened. "Great. Now let’s get back to the important matter at hand. If you didn't throw away the condom, and I didn't throw away the condom, where is the condom?"
He makes a good point. Where is the condom? My eyes scan the floor where he pointed to earlier, but there's absolutely no evidence found. I check it again until my attention is stolen by the large black dog who walks into the room. Frankie seems to double in size every day, and it won't be much longer before she meets my hips.
Both our eyes steady on the mischievous dog as she plops down in the middle of the floor between the two of us. A moment passes in silence, both of us putting the idea together in our heads.
Spencer pulls his hands through his hair in slow motion as he makes the connection. "No," he says.
My lips pinch together, because I think yes. "Frankie…"
The dog in question—the one who eats everything in sight—stands and slowly trots away, headed to the living room. Spencer watches for a few seconds and then sprints after her. "Frankie, stop!"
I follow the two of them out, but at a much slower pace. When I catch up to Spencer and Frankie, he has his face next to hers, trying to peel her teeth apart and look inside. Of course, Frankie isn’t it having any of it.
"Open your mouth," Spencer pleads, lifting up one side of Frankie's lips at a time. With her mouth clamped shut, there's not much to see besides big dog teeth.
I hate to ask the question.
I really don't want to ask the question.
But someone has to.
"Do you think we should call the vet?"
Spencer stands, wiping the dogs drool on his pants. He sighs and stares down at his troublemaker.
Frankie has eaten a lot of things; handmade soap, trash bags, anything in the trash, really, and a boot if Spencer's story is to be believed. But this…this is something completely different.
Can dogs digest latex?
"No." At first, I think he's answering my unspoken question about dogs and latex, but then he walks to the couch and pulls out a cell phone. "We'll set a timer for thirty minutes, and if nothing happens, then we’ll call the vet."
It's a reasonable idea except I need to be to the hospital in twenty minutes. Although… "Okay, well, you stay here and watch Frankie. I've got to start my shift. Text me if she's okay."
Spencer's eyes narrow, and I'm totally busted, but I refuse to admit defeat so early and walk a few steps to the door.
"Not so fast." His words stop me as I'm about to grab my purse. "Hudson lives in this complex, too. I'll get him to come and sit with Frankie."
"I don't think you need to do that." I shake my head back and forth for added emphasis, but Spencer's already typing out a message on his phone.
It takes less than three minutes for there to be a knock on the door. Spencer’s smile is much too big as he walks past me to open it.
"It took you long enough." He opens the door further.
"Dude, I was in the shower." A tall and lean but muscular guy walks into the apartment. His dark brown hair is almost black, but his eyes are light blue and give him a soft look overall. “You said it was a 911 situation. What’s up? Is Ridge ready to make a move?”
"No. I need you to watch Frankie for me."
"The dog?" Hudson’s question comes off confused.
Spencer shrugs. "Yeah, the dog."
"Your text said it was 911."
"Yeah." Spencer doesn't explain more.
Hudson shakes his head, the wet locks sending water flying across the room. "Okay, I'll bite. Why do I have to watch the dog?"
Spencer smirks—the one I'm learning is a direct indication someone should run away. "She has a tummy ache. I think she was in the trash again."
I put a hand over my mouth so I don’t grimace and give it all away. I bet she has a stomach ache alright.
"I need you to watch her, and if she doesn't seem better in about thirty minutes, let me know and I’ll take her to the vet."
Hudson gives Spencer a questioning look. “This doesn’t seem right."
Spencer tilts his head in the direction of my purse, and I take it as my cue to grab it. "I have to get Joslin to her shift at the hospital. Call me with an update."
Spencer and I both hightail it for the door, trying not to seem suspicious, but Hudson follows us. We’re halfway down the hallway when he sticks his head out. "Spencer! What kind of update?"
Spencer takes my hand as we walk down the carpeted hallway.
“Spencer!” Hudson yells as we walk out of the complex.
We walk out of the complex, the door closing behind us, and head to Spencer’s big truck in the parking lot.
"He's going to kill you when Frankie pukes up a condom," I say, closing the truck door.
Spencer doesn’t hesitate putting the key in the ignition. "Nah. He’s the new guy. It's all part of the job."
I help deliver babies all day. The amount of bodily fluids I see on a routine basis is astronomical, but even I wouldn't want to be on the cleanup for what is going to happen in that apartment soon.
Spencer backs out of the parking lot and stops before making a right turn to get to the hospital. "I'll tell you one thing—no more condoms."
"Agreed." I keep my eye on the apartment complex as we drive away, waiting for Hudson and Frankie to come racing out of the building, but it's all quiet as the parking lot fades into the distance.