Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
We arrived at the hotel and rushed through the check-in process so we could eat sooner.
“I hate leaving the horses.” Carson’s mouth twisted to one side. His speech had shown little improvements lately, but his facial features occasionally revealed ongoing TBI effects.
“I know. Me too.” I slowed my pace to accommodate his more deliberate gait. “But even with a rush job, pathology on RC’s biopsy won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Ditto the neurologist reviewing Linus’s MRI. Heck, we’re lucky to get such a quick turnaround going into a weekend.”
“Yeah.” Carson paused at a crosswalk to wait for the walk signal to illuminate.
“They’ll be okay.” I wanted to touch his arm as he had done for me earlier, but I had no idea how he’d react to such a gesture in a more public setting. “Scott’s beef is with me, not the horses.”
“Sure seemed personal.” Carson shot me a pointed look.
“He’s a lot of bluster.” I kept the irritation in my tone to a minimum. However, privately, I cursed the universe for assigning Scott to my cases. I would have preferred any other attending. My back tensed at having to explain his behavior away. “I heard him talking to the team before the MRI. He’s taking the case seriously, even if he wants to prove a point to me in the process.”
“Scott gonna be at the thing tomorrow?” Carson sounded ready to personally step into battle for me, an image that buoyed me regardless of how much I was dreading the luncheon.
“The reunion lunch? Probably.” I offered a small smile as we approached the restaurant. “Damn glad to have you along as a distraction.”
“Happy to help.” Carson sounded genuine, which was good because I already felt guilty enough over dragging him into ex-friend drama.
I was first to the door, so I held it open for Carson. Although it was Friday in the back-to-campus busy season, we were seated promptly in a booth at the far side of the center bar area. The place was new since I’d last been in town, but it had a friendly, well-established vibe with electric signs and wall decor. The room was noisier than my favorite place, with a dancefloor to the rear, but the booth provided both distraction and noise reduction.
“Fair warning.” I fiddled with my menu, but didn't open it. “Scott might not be the only former friend at the reunion lunch.”
“They all end badly?” Carson raised his eyebrows over his menu.
“Not all,” I hedged, hating that we needed to have this conversation. Given how badly seeing Scott had gone, though, Carson deserved a heads-up. “I kind of went through a bit of a man-whore phase when I got out of the army.” Cheeks heating, I took a quick sip of my water. “First real chance to experiment. In my defense, I was younger and stupider. I was too focused on my studies to make time to date for real. Plenty of regrets on all sides.”
“I’m sure.” Carson gave a good-natured chuckle. “Never had that phase.”
“Trust me, you’re not missing much.” I matched his casual tone, glad he didn’t seem uncomfortable at the topic or my past behavior. I wasn’t the same person I’d been back then, and merely discussing that phase made my shirt stick to my suddenly sweaty lower back. “Like you said earlier, friends with benefits can get messy, and I’m not much on stranger hookups or the bar scene.”
“Yep.” Carson nodded like he knew a thing or two about such a mess, but before I could figure out how to pry, our server reappeared.
“Ready to order?” The server was a college-aged guy with small hoop earrings and a matching nose ring. Despite the country music and western-themed decor, the place seemed rather progressive, judging by the many young staff members with tattoos and piercings.
“Sure.” Carson was affable as ever.
“Crap. I didn’t even look at the menu.” I groaned as I glanced over at Carson’s open menu, which was alarmingly thick. My weary brain wanted nothing to do with deciding. “What are you having?”
“This one.” Carson pointed at a picture of a towering burger called Rodeo Cowboy, topped with barbecue sauce, an onion ring, and cheese, among other items. “Make it two?”
“Yes.” My shoulders sagged with relief at not having to think. I managed a tired smile for the server. “And whatever pale ale you’d recommend.”
“Coming right up.” The server left with our order, only to return a few moments later with my beer.
I took a long, bracing sip. “Walking was a good idea. Definitely a night for a beer.”
“You earned it.” Carson’s soft eyes were far more understanding than I deserved, and I had to look away.
My attention landed on the dancefloor, where an energetic hostess was leading a small group of patrons in a line dance with mixed results. Earlier, I’d noted what seemed to be several same-sex couples among the diners, a suspicion confirmed by two men dancing closer together than strictly friendly. A wistful sigh escaped my chest before I could stifle it.