Page 114 of Bears Behaving Badly
“Right, so Lund had our metabolism… It’s why he was able to leave the hospital so soon.” She shook her head. “Too bad it wasn’t enough for him.”
“He got his.”
“Yes, his downfall was almost biblical in nature. Or soap opera-ish. And that’s enough talking about him. You slept here last night.”
“Yeah.”I should prob’ly get used to these abrupt subject changes.
“And the night before, and the night before that. You didn’t have to.”
“Disagree.”
“Which is the other reason I want to get out of here. You’re hindering your own recovery by sleeping in terrible hospital chairs,” she said seriously, taking his hand in hers. “Also, you snore.”
“I do not.” Wait. Did he? He honestly had no idea. Most of his bed partners didn’t spend the night.
“David, I guarantee you snore. I noticed as much the other night at your friends’ house, and last night I thought someone had parked a cement mixer beside my bed.”
“Nope. Just me. And while my snoring hasn’t been proven—”
“It has one hundred percent been proven.”
“—youtalkin your sleep. Actually, you order food in your sleep.”
“I know,” she said glumly. “Pat overheard me once and took far too much delight in it. Speaking of that devil in disguise, he’s gotten our charges safely back into the smothering arms of IPA?”
“Yeah, and everyone there has been brought up to speed. It helps that Gomph was there for the cleanup. He’s pushing a lot of stuff through that would normally take days or weeks. He came to visit us, but you were too busy ordering prime rib in your sleep to notice.”
“Ohhhhh…don’t say prime rib…” she moaned.
“And Caro Daniels gave a two-hour statement.”
“Au juswith creamy horseradish on the… She did? Wonderful! Who knew she’d be so voluble? No one,” Annette answered herself. “Which was her point, I guess. It speaks to her strength of will that she was silent for so long.” She sighed and scrubbed her fingers through her hair. “I want to go and I want to eat and I want to shower and I want to sleep. In that order.”
“Sounds like a plan. Y’know, when you do that, it just sticks up more.”
“Something we have in common” was the wry reply. “Weird, yes?”
“Yes.” He reached out, tugged a white-tipped lock. “In all the best ways. So. Are you going out with me or am I getting on my knees?”
“Both of those things will happen. Just…maybe not today.”
He laughed. It was hard to remember they’d worked this case together less than a week. And that three days ago he didn’t want to enter into a relationship because he assumed he had to protect her from his pro-Stable…leanings? Whatever the word, the thought of having to protect Annette Garsea from anything was ridiculous. Not that he wouldn’t try, if things went messy.
Maybe the biggest irony was that his mother would have been delighted. He could almost hear her:She’ll keep you and yours safe, at least. Despite yourself. You must know I only ever wanted your safety.
Not that that was a factor in his decision. Or at least not a major one.
“Annette, I’ve gotta ask you something weird.”
“Ooooh. Sounds promising.”
“Do you ever hear your mom in your head?”
“Yes, but only when Mama Mac leaves me a blistering voicemail. The woman simply will not text, which… Oh. You mean do I heardeadpeople in my head.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “No, never, but I occasionally attend a death banquet in my sleep.”
“Jesus.”
“Yes, it’s pretty grim. And as upsetting as it likely is for you to hear your dead mother, at least your dead talk to you. Mine sit around a big dining room table—the one in my parents’ old house, which I haven’t seen since my training bra days—and stare at me while I eat. And I try to warn them away from their deaths and they keep staring and the food starts to taste like mud but I keep eating it and they keep…staring…at…me.”
