Page 36 of The Tomorrows After You
“I would ride the bike but it’s pretty far—”
Still, my head nodded.“I can take you. I’ve got a quick errand to run but... I’ll go with you.”
11
Nicolette
My insides were still reeling from Katie’s little Sunday dinner visit. I couldn’t explain it but as she moved around that kitchen like she owned it after spewing such nasty things about me, I grew increasingly infuriated. Especially after Riot’s only response was to remind her I wastemporary.
Which meantshewas permanent.
That hurt more than I was willing to admit. I had spent all night stewing on how angry I was and the more I thought about it, the more incensed I became. I even started typing a biting little profile on how Riot wasn’t some golden boy, he was just a heartless jock. I had no intention of showing it to anyone, it was more of a diary entry, I guess. I didn’t know how to get back at him, so it felt good to let my anger flow through my fingertips even if I was the only one who ever read it.
Still, Melody’s assignment niggled at me. Nothing Ihadseenfrom Riot Asher so far would lend itself to a profile on why hekilledhis mother. Confusionswirledinside me. I neverleta subject get to me like this. I alwaysremainedindifferent. Unaffected. When did Ibecomeinvested?
Riot appearing in my doorway, shirtless, in dark gray sweatpants had melted my resolve. I felt my face flush at that moment, standing there, drinking him in. I knew he had muscles. That was obvious. But there was something intimate about seeing him this way in the morning, groggy and half-naked, and I had the resounding urge to run my fingers over every inch of his abdomen.
It’s just temporary.
I shouldn’t spend the whole day in the car with him. Hewasoff limits now.
Not that he was ever “on” limits but after last night, it was clear that Katie’s claws were in him. Deep. My face puckered at the thought of him being her little resurrection project. There was so much more to him.
Those piercing blue eyes were dark and haunted and although his face was mostly covered in hair, I could tell he had a firm jaw. That permanent scowl that was his standard expression was harsh, but I had seen some levity in those eyes. His eyebrows relaxed when he flipped through those photos on Brennan’s old digital camera.
Until Katie pulled it away.
Ipushedher petite frame and mousy little nose out of my mind, promising myself I would focus on the job at hand.
“What’s at this hospital that’s so important?” Riot broke the silence that had filled the truck cab for the last twenty minutes on the way to the teaching hospital. His shoulders relaxed and his eyebrows fell further apart when we left the town border, and my heart filled with tenderness that I tried to tamp down.
“A doctor Iusedto work with at IANN. Hewasour resident MD any time weneededa 'professional opinion'. Because, you know, people need to know youhavea doctorate to believe you when you tell them to wear sunscreen.”
Icaughtthe edge of Riot’s lips twitch.
“Why do you keep your beard that long?”Iasked before thinking better of it. His cheeksreddened.“I just mean, facial hairisin, sure, but ifyou’retryingtoreintegrateinto society, a seven-millimeter trimmer might do you well.”
I could tell from the crinkle of his eyes hewasn’toffended. But I could also tell from his posture he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said.
“It covers your smile, that’s all,” I said quietly. His eyes met mine and for a split second, the world around us seemed to pause. The air in the truck thickened with a warmth that hadn’t been there a few days ago. A car horn jolted us back to reality.
When wepulledup to the hospital, Riot didn’t get out.“I’mgoingtorun some errands in town. How long do you need?”
“An hour?” He nodded and started to roll up his window. “Hey,” I called. He paused and leaned over the seat to look at me. “You’re totally going dump scavenging, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer but I swear Igotan honest-to-God smile out of Riot Asher. Our eyesmet,tanglingfor a few seconds and at that moment, Iwishedmore than anything I could see more of that smile.
Dr. Leland Moore had been a friend of my father’s in med school so when I had told my dad I was interviewing him he had been overjoyed. The rapport we’d generated on camera was genuine. He reminded me a lot of my dad; good-looking, charming, and smart as hell.
He gave me a warm hug when I spotted him. He still smelled like Old Spice and coffee, his silver scruff scratching at my chin.
“How are your folks? Where are they this week?” We sat down at a table in the cafeteria.
“Momsentme a video last night. I thinkthey’rein Bozeman at the moment. Making their way down to my dad’s brother in Yellowstone.”
“Still living out of that camper van?” He raised his gray eyebrows, still flecked with the original black hair he used to have.
