Page 39 of Trigger

“Ihave a spare bedroom, you big ape.”

Amoment of silence ensued.

“Oh.”

“Yes,oh,” I mimicked.

“Justto be sure,” he said, sounding baffled. “Are you inviting me to spend the nightat your place?”

“Whyare you making it sound weird? What am I? An insensitive bastard? Of course,I’m inviting you. You’re sick. Why wouldn’t I invite you?”

Thorsen

Whywouldn’t he invite me? It was a legitimate question. But then again, why wouldhe? He disliked me. He expressed it so many times, in so many ways. So whythen?

Thequestion still echoed in my mind when he opened his door, and my jaw dropped tothe fucking ground.

Lord,have mercy.

“What?”Carter said with a frown.

“Nothing,”I mumbled, lowering my gaze. “I never saw you wearing something casual before.”

Ablack shirt and black pants were his uniform, so to speak, but when he openedthe door dressed in grey sweats and a plain white T-shirt, my mouth dried. Why?Because the casual look made him sexier than all sins in the Bible, and thetattoo sleeve on his arm gave me a semi. A sleeve, for fuck’s sake? When mygaze slid down to the prominent bulge in his sweats, I stopped praying becausenow I knew for sure that God was a sadist.

“Please,come in,” Carter said, letting me pass. “You stink, by the way.”

“Iasked to use your shower days ago,” I muttered, offended by his lack ofsensibility. “You refused, remember?”

“Don’tsulk,” he said, closing the door behind me. “Do you have spare clothes?”

Iraised my towel and a toothbrush instead of a reply.

Herolled his eyes. “I’ll give you mine.”

“Willthey fit?” I teased him.

Cartersmiled sweetly. “My sweats might be too big for you in the groin area. It’s acommon problem for men of your size.”

“Hilarious.”

“MyT-shirt is another matter,” he added, eyeing my chest. “Your torso is biggerthan the Great Wall of China.”

Igrinned. “I’ll just walk around bare-chested then. You can ogle me all youwant. I don’t mind.”

“Iwon’t, don’t worry. Just wash away the stench, and I’ll owe you one.”

“Giveme a massage, and consider us even,” I offered, feeling hopeful. “Deal?”

Helaughed. “Not going to happen. You know how to use soap, don’t you?”

“No.Will you show me?”

Carter

Ididn’t know what possessed me to invite him. If I had to guess, I’d saytemporary insanity, fever, or PTSD. Still, he risked his life by coming to myaid, and I owed him a lot more than a comfortable bed to sleep on. So, Idecided to be a good host. I’ve already made the bed in the spare bedroom. Ifixed him a sandwich, then I thought a soup would be more nourishing if he wereill, so I made him soup, too.

Whenthe shower stopped running, I knocked on the bathroom door.

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