Page 37 of In the Nick of Time
Nick narrowed his eyes at Tim.
“I don’t know.”
“Touché. Let’s go back to the room.”
“Can I tell Doug you talk?”
“You are a grown adult, are you not? The question is, will Agent Swanson believe you? And how much do you care?”
Agent Swanson. Now Nick squinted at the tortoise. A thought flitted through his mind but he dismissed it. The turtle couldn’t be a SPAM agent. Could he?
He was lifting Tim up again when he remembered that he’d forgotten his key. A loud, frustrated groan escaped him. They were going to have to go in the front door and Nick had no idea how he was going to explain Tim.
As luck would have it, the exit door opened and two men stepped outside. One immediately and vigorously tapped a packet of cigarettes against his palm while the other already had an unlit one stuck between his lips. Nick managed to grab the door before it swung shut again.
“Remindme to never again carry a fifty-pound turtle up six flights of stairs,” Nick said when Doug responded to his knock on their room door. On the way back up, he’d decided against mentioning that Tim talked. Doug wouldn’t believe him anyway, and he realized he wanted Doug to respect him.
“Weight training is good for you.”
Nick set Tim back down by the bed and paused. Heat rushed into his cheeks so quickly he thought he might pass out from it.
“Are you okay?” Doug asked.
Nick sat on the edge of the bed. “Fine. Just fine.”
Hewasfine, just suddenly thinking about Tim being underneath the bed while Nick and Doug had done The Deed. When Tim had just been a tortoise, Nick hadn’t really thought about where he was. But now that Nick knew Tim was an intelligent, sentient tortoise, everything changed. The earth shifted under his feet, so to speak.
Doug peered at him. The heat faded from Nick’s face. He grinned back at Doug in what was probably an entirely unconvincing manner.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. I don’t believe you, but okay.”
“What’s the plan now, boss?” Nick asked to divert Doug from any more inquiries that might lead to questions about his mental health. And talking turtles. Tortoises. Whatever.
“We’ll walk the Strip and slowly head back toward the club again.”
“Try not to almost fall in traffic this time. Please.”
“That was a fluke.”
It seemed to him that the runner had purposefully pushed Doug into traffic.
“Was it though?”
Nick had been thinking about the odd incident at the fountain the other day. It was better than contemplating a talking tortoise—or worse, dwelling on the fact that he was fast becoming enamored with Agent Doug Swanson. What had started out as amusing and harmless flirting for Nick and then some nice extracurriculars with the assignment was quickly becoming something more.
Why did he do this to himself? Worse, he knew he’d blurt it out loud at some point and Doug would do his best to let him down easily. The conversation would be short and painful.
“What do you mean?”
“What?” Shit, had he said something out loud?
“At the fountain, the Humvee… you were the one who brought it up.”
“Oh, right. I meant that it’s possible he intentionally pushed you.”
“Well,” Doug said slowly, “the guy was trying to get past me on a crowded sidewalk.”
