Stuck-Up Suit - Vi Keeland Page 0,43

even met the woman, yet despised her already. “How are you feeling? Graham said your surgery is Friday.”

“I feel good. They keep trying to get me to take pain medicine, but I don’t need it, and it makes me sleepy. I think they just like to make old people sleep all the time, so we don’t ask for anything.”

I looked around the room. It was the nicest hospital room I’d ever been in. There was room for a half-dozen patients, yet there was only one bed in the room. In the corner, there was a beautiful arrangement of flowers. Lil saw me looking.

“They’re from Graham. Sends me a fresh arrangement every week on Tuesday, like clockwork. I used to have a giant garden, but it got to be too much for me to manage.”

“He’s very thoughtful when he wants to be.”

“There are two sides to that man. Thoughtless and thoughtful. Not sure he got the in-between gene.”

“You sure have him nailed down.”

“Somebody’s gotta see him for what he is and call him on his shit.”

I chuckled. “I suppose so.”

“Although something tells me you’ll do the same. I can tell…you’re good for him.”

“You think? We’re sort of opposites in a lot of ways.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s what’s inside of you both that counts.”

“Thanks, Mrs. M…Lil.”

I stayed for longer than my lunch hour, enjoying Lil telling me about the characters on her soap opera. The storylines were so far-fetched, I couldn’t stop thinking about Graham watching them—he was so stern and pragmatic. When I went to leave, Lil took my hand.

“He’s a good man. Fiercely loyal and loves his family. Very protective of his heart. But once he gives it, he doesn’t take it back.”

“Thank you.”

“You can fix the rest. Pry the stick out of his ass and hit him over the head with it a few times. He’s smart. He’ll figure it out real quick.”

“Now that, I can do.”

***

GRAHAM WASN’T HOME WHEN I ARRIVED at his condo. Blackie met me at the door, springing up and down like a little crazy dog.

“Hey, Buddy.” I lifted him, and he proceeded to lick my face. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Mr. Big Prick had a small fluffy white dog. “Looks like it’s just you and me for a little while.”

I looked around the large open space. Aside from Blackie’s panting, it was eerily quiet. The last two times I had been here, the tour had pretty much been limited to the inside of Graham’s pants, so I used the time to snoop a bit.

The condo was stunning. No doubt it was professionally decorated—cool grays and sleek silver gave the place a bachelor feel. It could have been featured in GQ, with the owner standing in the middle of the open space, his arms folded across his chest. But as beautiful as it was, it was missing something. Personality. There was no hint to who lived here.

Curious, I wandered into the living room. There was an oversized sectional facing a large, flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Beneath it was a sleek black cabinet. It took me a minute to figure out how to open it without any handles. Inside was a DVD collection. Caddyshack, Happy Gilmore, Anchorman.

Huh.

I kept browsing, moving up to the next shelf. Glory, Gettysburg, Gangs of New York.

Hmmm.

Make up your mind, Morgan.

I ventured into the kitchen. The refrigerator was a vast smorgasbord of takeout containers. And…three containers of Nesquik strawberry milk.

Huh.

In the bedroom, I eyed the nightstand. Checking out his DVD collection and the contents of his fridge was one thing, but invading his bedside table would really be crossing a line. I looked around the room for something else to check out. It was pretty barren—no pictures, no folded pieces of paper on top of the dresser from emptying his pockets the day before. My eyes narrowed in on that nightstand again.

“No,” I said out loud to myself.

I lifted Blackie up over my head, and we had a talk. “It would be wrong of me to go through Graham’s drawer, wouldn’t it, little buddy?”

He stuck his tongue out and licked my nose.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Inside the walk-in closet seemed more like Graham J. Morgan. Suits lined one side, mostly dark. An obscene amount of dress shirts lined the other. Everything was neat and organized.

Boring.

I walked back into the bedroom, my eyes falling immediately back on the nightstand. The damn thing was haunting me. “Maybe just one peek.” I stroked Blackie, who was still in