Page 26 of Reptile Dysfunction
“I vote for heated seats.”
“I’ve dealt with some of the most difficult monsters in a three-state area, and it’s a long stretch that does me in.”
While I sit with an ice pack on my back, Sloane heads to the locker room to change out of her workout clothes.
The drive home is an exercise in humiliation, made worse by my snakes’ dramatic reactions to every bump in the road. Sterling keeps trying to hide his face in Sloane’s hair, while others alternate between pained hisses and accusatory glares at me for ignoring their earlier warnings.
“Stop pouting,” Sloane says as we approach my water tower. “Everyone overdoes it sometimes.”
“I don’t overdo anything.” But even I don’t believe that lie.
When she parks the SUV and I raise the reclined seat to upright, my back spasms again, and I barely contain a groan. Every snake on my head is curled into a pained little ball; their usual intimidating swagger is completely forgotten.
“I don’t want an argument, Thad, you hear me? I’m going to help you upstairs. It will probably be at least two weeks beforethis heals properly,” she continues, her tone as firm as I’ve ever heard it. “And that’s only if you actually rest it.”
Just trying to sit up straight pulls a yelp of pain from somewhere deep inside me.
“Fine,” I manage through gritted teeth. “But if you tell anyone about this—”
“What? You’ll intimidate me?” Her smile is unfairly attractive. “Pretty sure that ship sailed when your snakes started doing the happy dance every time I walk into the room.”
One snake groans. Another flips onto his back as if he’s been mortally shamed.
Chapter Eleven
Sloane
“I can manage the stairs.” Thad’s gruff insistence might be more convincing if he weren’t leaning heavily against the water tower’s entrance, his snakes all drooping in obvious discomfort. Sterling, his iridescent beauty, actually rolls his eyes at him before stretching toward me pleadingly.
“Of course you can.” Positioning myself under his arm, I ignore his token resistance. “But humor me. Think of it as research for my article. ‘Local Gorgon Defeated by Pilates: A Study in Reptile Dysfunction.’”
“Reptile dysfunction?” His attempt at being dismissive falls flat as he allows me to help support his weight as we tackle the spiral staircase inside the supporting column. “Not funny.”
“It’s a little funny. Maybe you should have installed a chairlift.”
“I hate you.” But his snakes aren’t on board with his sentiment, several nuzzling my hair appreciatively as I help steady him.
“Your hair disagrees.” We pause halfway up, his breathing heavy. “Need a break?”
“No.” His jaw clenches. His eyes are tight with pain, but when I glance back, he offers a crooked smile. “Just… taking a moment.”
“To rest?”
He hesitates, his amber gaze holding mine. “To appreciate the view.”
That shouldn’t make my pulse stutter. It does anyway.
By the time we reach his living space, we’re both breathing hard for different reasons. It takes more strength than Pilates ever prepared me for, but somehow, we avoid further injury to his back—or his pride.
“Stay put,” I order, heading to his kitchen. “I’m making soup.”
“You cook?” He sounds skeptical.
“Only if opening cans and setting timers counts as cooking.”A quick rummage through the cupboards turns up a surprisingly well-stocked pantry. “Ah-ha! Chicken noodle. Classic comfort food.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Shut up and let someone take care of you for once.” My voice cracks with more emotion than I meant to show. “Sorry. It’s just… you don’t always have to be the strong one.”
