Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,56
looked up, startled.
“Uh . . . a grant application?”
“Oh, really?” His tone was one of casual disinterest and he flipped through his screen with a stylus. “What’s the topic?”
I groped for an answer. “Communication. And, uh, doctors.”
“Well, that’s specific.”
I turned and found him suddenly much closer than I’d expected, his weight fully canted toward my side as he peered at my screen. This close, I could see each of the individual coarse hairs in the growing scuff over his cheeks. He smell was enticing, the notes of clean skin and sandalwood beckoning me closer. I turned away, taking my roving eyes with me, before I did something embarrassing like nosing further into him to chase the elusive scent.
“Yeah, it’s interesting.”
“I guess so.” His voice was laden with laughter. “Especially if they’re advocating for —” He leaned even closer, his eyes on my screen. “‘The proud, arrogant upthrust of his turgid length?’”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “Get back on your side!”
He cracked up, head thrown against the headrest, Adam’s apple working.
My reaction, to throw my elbow into his side, was deeply ingrained, a reflex learned in third grade. I didn’t really register what I’d done until he gave a loud laugh-groan.
“I’m not judging, Zora. Hell, I think you’ve got the market cornered on what makes for an enjoyable flight.”
“It’s an invasion of privacy, you know, to read someone else’s screen.”
His color was high from laughing. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Why don’t we switch? Although I think I’d be the real winner in that trade. I’m reviewing a lease. Nothing fun here.”
That got my attention. “Lease? What do you need a lease for? Where?”
“I’m leasing a house in Green Valley. Hopefully I won’t need it for more than a month. Just until things are worked out with the app and the hospital is satisfied Rocket has met all their conditions.”
“Why lease a house, for something so temporary?”
“Because of Sir Duke. He’ll need someplace to run around.”
“Sir Duke?”
“Yes.” He scrolled through his iPad until he turned it my way.
I gawped at the screen.
It was a greyhound, exceptionally slim, without an ounce of extra fat anywhere on its entire body. Judging from the patch of gray around its snout, it was older.
“This is your dog? You have a dog?” He nodded, and I was both amused and touched to see the same expression new mothers wore when foisting baby pictures on unsuspecting strangers.
“You named him Sir Duke?”
I looked up from the screen. Nick nodded, holding my gaze. “Yes.”
And just like that, I remembered all the dance parties we’d had in my parents’ finished basement as kids. My dad or Walker playing DJ, spinning our favorites, organizing Soul Train Lines we all boogied down. Stevie Wonder was one of Nick’s absolute favorite artists. Songs in the Key of Life had been our favorite album, and “Sir Duke” was one of Nick’s favorite songs. He loved the driving beat, the exultant lyrics, the infectious melody. He’d played, sang it, hummed it, head bopped to it when he was happy and in the moments when he was desperately trying to get back to happy. I’d once threatened him with death after hearing him hum it all day at school, and then during dinner at my house that evening. He’d agreed to stop with mock solemnity until my mother suddenly started singing back up for him while Tavia imitated the trumpet blare and Walker played the drumline on the table. That song was the soundtrack of our childhood.
And he’d named his damn dog “Sir Duke.”
God. I needed to get away from him. Off this plane, and then to whatever half of Green Valley or Knoxville he wasn’t in. Spending time with him was like opening a cedar chest of memories that started out sweet, then turned rotten and moth-eaten.
“I always wanted a dog.” He grinned at the phone’s display of his skeletal dog, and despite myself, something in my heart pinched.
“I know.” His mother had not been a fan of dogs.
“And then I kept saying I would get one, whenever things slowed down. And then I realized that there would never be a perfect time and things were never gonna slow down. So I rescued Sir Duke from a racing outfit in Florida. We have a rule, he and I. We don’t spend more than five days apart unless I’m traveling internationally.”
“Sounds like a celebrity marriage.”
“Nah, I can actually trust him.” He laughed, then stopped. His gaze flew to mine as he breathed in sharply.