“You are looking far too serious to be feeling great,” Drake said, pulling her out of her reverie.
She smiled, although some of her giddiness tamped down a bit. “I was just thinking about finding out what happened last night.”
That was sort of true.
“Right,” he agreed, pulling out a pair of jeans and a black shirt. “We need to get back to work finding those Chers.” He tossed his clothes on the bed, eyeing it. “Or we could just stay here a little longer.”
Josie Lynn genuinely laughed at the naughty glint in his dark eyes. “I think we’d better behave for just a little while.”
He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Okay, super sleuth, but promise me you’ll come back here with me after we are done. Because, my love, I am not done with you.”
She smiled, but her heart seemed to beat both with joy and pain. She didn’t want him to ever be done with her. But it was far too soon to make admissions like that. She did know enough about men to know talking commitment too soon was a surefire way to send them running for the hills. Or in her experience, another woman.
“I’d love to come back,” she said, keeping her tone light and flirty. Even as that bittersweet pain filled her chest again.
Drake kissed her, then returned to getting dressed.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she told him, pointing to the door, feeling the need to get herself together a little. She was sure she looked like—well, like she’d just had the best sex of her life, which was great for her mood, but probably not so great for her hair and clothing.
“Beware the bird.”
She shuddered. “That’s not even funny.” She poked her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear.
“You’ll take on a gator, but a parrot scares you.” Drake chuckled.
She made a face at him, then stepped into the hallway. She could hear Cort and Wyatt in the living room. They seemed to be discussing where to find the person who owned the parrot, or at least that’s what she thought.
She started to head toward the bathroom but changed her mind. Between the two glasses of wine and crazed lovemaking, she was beyond parched, and the refrigerator stood out like a beacon. Cold water. Yeah, that’s what she needed.
She tiptoed to the kitchen, mainly to avoid the attention of the bird rather than Drake’s bandmates. She opened the fridge to find it empty except for a six-pack of beer, a bottle of vodka and large blue Tupperware pitcher. Water? Juice? At this point, she didn’t care, she just wanted something cold.
She pulled out the pitcher and set it on the counter, then she opened the first cupboard next to the fridge. It was empty.
That’s weird. It seemed as if Drake and Cort and Katie had lived here for quite some time. Although she didn’t exactly recall Drake saying that. She guessed she’d just assumed they had from the way Katie and Drake had been teasing each other about his frequent nudity. That seemed like the kind of joke old roommates would share.
She moved to the next cupboard, which was also empty. Finally, at the last cupboard, she found glasses. And only glasses. Regular drinking glasses, wine goblets, beer mugs.
Okay, these guys must definitely eat out a lot.
She reached for a plain juice glass and returned to the pitcher. Just as she lifted it, to start pouring a drink, she heard the loud flap of wings and a high-pitched caw.
“Jack and coke. Jack and coke.”
She instantly jumped and screamed, both the pitcher and the glass crashing to the floor.
She spun to see where the parrot was, terrified it was near her. She located the red bird perched on the top of the refrigerator, regarding her with unblinking, beady eyes. Evil eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Josie Lynn looked away from the bird to find both Cort and Wyatt in the kitchen doorway.
“I’m—I’m fine,” she managed, casting another wary look toward the bird. “The bird startled me. And—and I kind of made a mess.”
She looked down, then blinked. The drinking glass had broken, and whatever had been in the pitcher had splattered all over her bare legs and the floor. And it definitely wasn’t water, and it didn’t look like juice either. Whatever it was looked dark red and viscous. Like blood.
“That fuckin’ bird,” Cort muttered, walking farther into the room. He held out his arm, and Josie Lynn flinched as the bird spread its wings—huge wings, as far as she was concerned—and flew down to land on Cort’s upper arm.
“He is pretty much a drunken jerk,” Cort told her, “but overall, he’s harmless.”
The bird waddled up Cort’s arm and proceeded to bite his ear.
“Ouch, damn it! Okay, let me amend that,” Cort said, still wincing from the bite. “He’s mostly harmless to everyone else, but for some reason, he has a love/hate thing going on with me.”
“I can see that,” Josie Lynn said, though now her attention had gone from the bird to the stuff spilled all around her. What the hell was that?
“Here,” Wyatt said, hurrying over to her. “Let me clean that up. Don’t you even worry about it.”
He placed a hand on her back and arm to usher her away from the mess. She kept looking down. That wasn’t juice. It beaded down her bare legs, reminding her of times she’d cut herself shaving.
But it can’t be blood. Why would they have blood? In a pitcher? In their fridge?
“What happened?” Drake came rushing into the room, his jeans on, but unbuttoned, and his shirt in his hand. He looked down at the floor and at Josie Lynn, and she could have sworn he saw a flash of dread before he masked it behind a look of concern.
“Are you okay?”
Josie Lynn nodded, even though she felt more confused than okay.
“I’m going to clean this up,” Wyatt repeated. “Why don’t you take her to the bathroom so she can wash up?”
Drake nodded, placing an arm around her and leading her down the hall. Again she had the feeling they all just wanted to get her away from whatever was splattered everywhere.
“You didn’t get cut, did you?” Drake asked as he led her into the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the tub.
“I don’t think so.” But how would she know? Her legs and feet looked like Carrie at the prom.
He urged her over to the tub and had her sit down on the edge, then he tested the water.
“It feels warm enough. Go ahead and put your legs in.” He turned to grab her a washcloth from the rack by the sink.
She did as he said, as if in a daze.
He sat down beside her and began mopping the sticky redness from her pale skin.
“What is this stuff?” she asked, her voice quiet, not sure she really wanted to know.
Drake shook his head, giving her a bewildered look of his own. “Some gross protein shake that Cort drinks. I think it’s whey and pomegranate or acai berry or whatever is hip with health nuts at the moment. It’s disgusting. I think he bought it through Amway.”
Josie Lynn stared down at her legs as the redness rinsed away, turning the water pink, then swirled down the drain.
A protein drink. Pomegranate. That certainly made more sense than blood.
“You finish washing off, and I’ll grab you something to wear.”
She nodded, accepting the washcloth.
He stood and headed out of the room. Josie Lynn rewetted the washcloth and swiped it down her leg, most of the mess already gone. A glob of the stuff still clung to her inner thigh, and for a moment, she considered dabbing her finger in it and tasting it. But instead she wiped the spot away with the damp cloth.
