Page 32 of Heat Exchange
“It feels like more than that. You’ve been a little off lately, but I can’t quite put my finger on how or why.”
And Aidan didn’t really want him trying too hard to figure it out, so it was time to lie again. “Having some issues with my old man. The usual.”
That seemed to satisfy him. “Just don’t let it affect you on the job, son. From where I sit, it looks like you’re holding the other guys at arm’s length—even Kincaid—and that’s not any good for you.”
“Just trying to work things out in my head. I’m good. Honest.”
Cobb slapped his knee and then pushed himself to his feet. “Good. You let me know if that changes.”
Left alone again, Aidan pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it. Nothing. He even went so far as to pull up their last text conversation and tapped the reply box to say something.
Then he swore under his breath and closed the texting app. Tossing his phone onto the coffee table, he picked up the remote control and turned the television on. Daytime TV sucked, but anything was better than sitting around moping over Lydia Kincaid.
* * *
LYDIAWOKEUPon the couch with a stiff neck, a lingering sense of uneasiness from the dream that was already slipping away and sorrow because she knew there would be no funny text messages from Aidan today.
She stretched, wincing a little, and realized she could smell coffee. She’d overslept, but based on the condition she’d found them in last night, Ashley and Courtney probably hadn’t been up very long, either.
When she’d gotten home, she’d gone upstairs to find Courtney passed out, fully dressed, on her bed. She’d tiptoed into Ashley’s room intending to climb into the big king-size bed with her sister, but Ashley had been sound asleep totally sideways across the mattress. Ashley’d at least gotten most of her clothes off before she passed out, though she hadn’t managed to get as far as pajamas. Rather than wake anybody and be forced to make conversation with drunk people in her current mood, Lydia’d gone back downstairs and crashed on the couch.
In hindsight, she probably should have rolled Courtney onto the floor. Sitting up, she gave herself a few seconds to be awake enough not to fall over and then got up. She went to the bathroom first, and then went into the kitchen.
Her sister and their friend looked as bad as she felt, which went a little way toward cheering her up. She poured a coffee and sat down with them. There were no signs breakfast would be forthcoming anytime soon, but she wasn’t that hungry, anyway.
Every time she thought of Aidan’s face when she’d said those words to him, she felt a little sick.
“Sorry I took your bed,” Courtney mumbled. “I was drunk. I might still be. The only thing I know for sure is that, sadly, I’m not dead.”
“We got in the cab,” Ashley said. “But when I gave him her address, she started to cry because there were ninjas in her closet.”
“I wasreallydrunk.”
“And I tried to tell her ninjas weren’t real, but she saw a show about them and...trust me, it was easier just to bring her here.”
Lydia nodded. “We get sprayed for ninjas every six months. I can give you the number.”
“So funny.” Courtney looked like she was going to fall out of her chair until she propped her elbows on the table. “I hardly ever have alcohol other than a glass of wine or maybe even two. There were pretty drinks. They were pink and...I love pink.”
“How was work last night?” Ashley asked.
Lydia opened her mouth, then changed her mind about letting words come out of it. She raised her mug instead and took a hot sip of coffee.
“What happened?” Apparently Ashley wasn’t so hungover she missed the hesitation.
“Nothing.”
“I bet Aidan happened.” Courtney was perking up a little, though she’d definitely be skipping her daily jog.
“Don’t you have to work?” Lydia asked. “And who has a bridal shower on a Wednesday night? Nobody does.”
“The bride’s a police officer and the maid of honor manages one of the fast-food places. And the bridesmaids work in the ER or something. Anyway, they all have to work weekends, so Wednesday’s like their Saturday. The rest of us were just so screwed. And I called in sick. I probably sounded convincing.”
“I don’t know if you convinced your boss you’re sick,” Lydia said, “but you definitely sound like you’re incapable of working.”
Courtney beamed, as if that was a compliment. “Good.”
“Nice try, Lydia,” her sister said. “You should have just hung a flashing neonchanging the subjectsign over that question. What happened last night?”
