Page 39 of Prospect Year

King barked a laugh along with the faces around Lola who the pain kept his eyes from focusing on. “Good to know nothing is broken. I’d hate to see you show up for work tomorrow in a cast. That could make things tough.”

Like things are not tough enough as it is. Lola closed his eyes a moment as the nerves in his lower body came back to life.

“Ready?”

Lola opened his eyes to Mac standing above him, holding out a hand. Reaching up, he gripped his wrist and slowly gained his feet and made his way inside. Thankful the antics were over, and that he was breathing as Mac put it, he ignored the pain that lingered.

He not only lost the bet but also his dignity today. He longed to do nothing but fall into bed and sleep for days.

Finally, Lola threw his leg over his bike and eased onto the seat. He lifted a hand toward Oz and Ghost who were standing next to their bikes nearby and nudged up his kickstand. His body felt as if it had aged seventy years in a day, grimacing at each bump in the clubhouse drive.

The moment he was positive he was out of sight, his shoulders dropped, and he lifted his face toward the welcoming cold air rushing over his windshield. He relied on pure muscle memory to carry him home.

***

“Well, must have been some party. You look like warmed over death,” Amber commented from the stairway as they passed—he on his way to his room, she on her way out.

“Death, yes. Warm, not yet,” he replied. “I’m going straight to the shower and bed. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Amber came to a stop, whirling toward Lola. “What? No shower comments for company? You really are out of it. What happened?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just trust me when I say, I don’t have wings.”

“Must have been quite the day.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he said.

He shot a quick smile toward Mia standing by the railing and disappeared into his room. His ripped and dusty clothes marked his path straight into the bathroom. The hot spray scalded his skin and seeped deep into his bones easing the pain a bit. A quick dry-off and a towel around his waist, he limped toward the bed, ready to call it a night before the sun did. He paused. A tray sat in the middle of his bed. A tall glass of iced tea, a ham and cheese sandwich, and a couple of pills. His smile was faint from fatigue. He downed the pills first, with half the sandwich right after. Tossing the towel to the foot of the bed, he moved to pull open a drawer for underwear. Pulling them on, he finished the last of the food in a few bites and threw back his head until the glass was empty.

That hit the spot. His day was done. He turned and fell into bed.

Chapter 18

Early February came in with a rush. A rush of winter that was unusual to Louisiana. Even though it would only last a few days at most, it put people in survival mode where they stocked up on necessities and stayed indoors.

By the time Lola left the garage for the day, darkness had fallen, dropping the temperatures even more. With a rare freeze warning for the area, he met Brew and Ghost at the Landing to inspect and take the necessary preventive measures for the freezing weather.

Just after midnight, he finally pulled his Jeep into the long garage of Angel Haven, as opposed to parking in the drive as he usually did. Zipping his coat, he shoved his hands into his jean pockets and swiftly walked to the house, ducking his head from the harsh winds. The warmth of the house met him the moment he stepped inside. And, as most nights, the kitchen light glowed from across the room. He unzipped his coat, shaking it from his shoulders and draped it over the banister.

Please be coffee, no tea. He pulled in a deep breath. Coffee. Rubbing his palms together, he grinned and headed toward the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t you be bundled up in bed by now?” he asked with a grin, seeing Mia filling a mug.

She flashed him her usual sweet smile and with her eyes asked if he needed anything in the coffee.

“Good coffee needs nothing added, and looks like you made good coffee,” he told her, noticing the red Community bag near the pot. “Warming up your insides before heading to bed, huh?”

He took the steaming mug from her and walked to the table, as had become their ritual. Before his ass hit the seat, his phone rang. Quickly, he pulled it from his pocket, looking at the screen. Brick. Quickly he swiped the screen. “Lola here . . . Watermelon? . . . Good and ripe. Nothing green . . . Got it. On my way.”

Returning the phone to his pocket, he lifted the mug, praying for the caffeine to be strong enough to see him through this errand. Really? Watermelon in the middle of winter? Ghost was right when he said they do anything for their women. Correction. They have the prospect do anything for the women. He thought he would laugh, but it was freezing out, not to mention the middle of the night and he was about to store hop in search of a summer treat. He downed the last of the hot liquid and turned, wondering why Mia hadn’t joined him at the table.

“Gotta bail on you tonight, darling.” He carried the mug to the sink and peered over her shoulder as she scribbled on a sheet of paper. “Need something while I’m out?”

She shook her head, turned, and held out the short list. Tapping the top name, she held up one finger. A laugh did escape him this time. “They have watermelon?” He watched her head bob before her brows raised, pausing, then she pointed to the next name. “Got it. Here first. Then here.” He looked up from the list of grocery stores. “And all three of these are open all night?”

She nodded again.

“You’re a treasure.”

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