“Unfortunately, no protection is foolproof and Karn’s persistent.”
Patsy yawned again. “I think y’all need to eat and then head on to bed. Tomorrow we’ll reboot those memories of yours, take you to the pyramid, and get you started on your awesome adventure.” Her husband helped her to stand and then gathered her close, resting his head against hers. It was such a natural thing to do, and I was fascinated by their relationship harmony. They seemed to fit together so well, like they’d been carved from the same piece of marble. Mates. Like bookends. Or gibbons.
“Sure. Because I can sleep. No problem.” I eyed the pastries closest to my saucer. “Maybe a sugar coma is in order.”
“We’ll start with protein,” said Lenette, sliding a huge chicken salad sandwich in front of me. The bread was thickly sliced, and I could see the grapes and walnuts among the chunks of mayo-ed chicken. I loved food. Maybe a little too much, but given my job, I tended to burn a lot of calories in sweat and effort. The sandwich seemed to weigh as much as a gold brick and it tasted like sweet, sweet ambrosia.
“Oh, my gawd,” said Dove after she swallowed a mouthful.
I didn’t want words to interrupt my inhalation of delicious food, so I offered wholehearted agreement through nodding.
Everyone except for Lenette and Drake wished us a good night, and I gurgled back at them through mouthfuls of warm blueberry scone. By the time we were done eating sandwiches and pastries, and drinking more tea, I was so stuffed I felt like someone would have to roll me barrel-like to wherever the bed was located.
“I think you accidentally ate a plate,” said Dove, who’d been my companion in behavior most glutton. She followed up her accusation with a huge burp. “Whoa. Excuse me.”
“It was a delicious plate,” I said primly. I dabbed my lips with a napkin. “That was the best food we ever ate.”
“Emphasis on ever,” agreed Dove. She yawned, stretching her arms out. Then she looked down tiredly at her monster shoes. “Shit.” She glared at me. “This is your fault. I honored your shoe request and now I can’t feel my feet.”
“Next time I’ll ask for notification of our kidnapping so we can choose appropriate footwear.” A full belly, an evening of stressful events, and uncertainty about the future were more than my body could take. I was the kind of tired I got after traipsing around a dig site all day. I’d slept in a lot of weird, uncomfortable places (ask me about the sarcophagus—go on . . . ask me), so settling back into the chair for a snooze would be no big deal.
“Perhaps it is time for you lovely ladies to retire?” Drake aimed a smoky bedroom-eyed gaze at me, and something hot and sizzling burst through my exhaustion.
“Va-va-voom,” muttered Dove.
“Drake, why don’t you show Moira to her room?” asked Lenette. “I’ll help pry Dove out of her boots.”
He stood, and offered a formal half bow, much in the same way Karn had, and extended his hand. My dress was filthy, my ponytail limp, and my makeup smeared. I must have looked like I’d crawled out from a sand dune in evening wear. Yikes. Still, I took his hand and wobbled to my bare feet. Wow. I hadn’t even noticed my lack of shoes. I vaguely wondered if anyone had picked up my high heels. Then the thought of Doriana and the gala entered my tired mind. What had happened after the brawl?
I stared down at Drake’s hand, which encompassed mine easily. That light touch was keeping me upright. I glanced up at him. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” He kept my hand cupped in his. “Good night, Dove.”
“G’night,” she oofed. “Could you kill me on your way past? Ugh!”
“Maybe on the way back,” he said with a laugh. “If you are still suicidal.”
“Only the suicidal would wear these shoes,” said Lenette as she struggled with pulling at the heel.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Dove. “Probably.”
“Yeah. Good knowing you.” She waved halfheartedly, her focus on extracting her calves from the red leather.
Drake led me from the kitchen into the common area, which had a cozy jumble of furniture, some near the fireplace, other pieces set in an arrangement to encourage intimate conversation, and yet others near windows or alone. Those chairs were by bookshelves, so were no doubt meant for the solitary reader. The pastel colors, casually draped doilies, and plentitude of quirky trinkets made the room feel like you were visiting your eccentric great-aunt.
I liked it.
Drake led me to a staircase and gestured for me to go ahead of him. He let go of my hand, and I have to admit, for a second I felt bereft. Holding hands was such a nice, normal sign of affection. I’d never given it much merit before.