California Schemin' - Kate George [53]
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Poor Hammie, all muscle and training, stuck sitting around Wallace’s house waiting for him to slip up, the opposite situation than what he was trained for.
“I don’t know what to say. I can’t say I’m happy to be the victim of a snatch-and-grab. I’m supposed to be at home, thinking about Christmas presents and taking care of my animals. My boyfriend has a broken leg, most likely courtesy of Wallace, and that’s my fault. He can’t finish the job he was working on, and I’m pretty sure he’s worried about what happened to me. He probably thinks I’m dead, and they just haven’t found the body yet.”
The breeze had turned into a wind and a spattering of rain hit us and made ripples in the pool.
“Come on. Your neck will get all cold and stiff again out here.”
I followed him back into the house and through to the kitchen where Moose was pulling food out of the fridge.
“You’re cooking?” I asked.
“One of us had to do it, and Hambecker’s not my first choice for chef. He burns everything.”
“I like things well cooked,” said Hammie. “A little carbon doesn’t bother me, although I have to say I like Moose’s cooking better than mine.”
“My cooking consists of pulling a yogurt out of the fridge,” I said, “so anyone is better than me. What are you making?”
“Soup and sandwiches, if I can find what I need. If I can’t, I’m sending Hambecker to the store.” He poured some chips in a bowl, dumped salsa in another and put them in front of me. “Eat this while I make some guacamole.”
I dipped a chip in salsa while Moose halved an avocado and spooned it out of its shell. He stirred in some mayo, a squirt of lemon juice and dumped in some of the salsa and mixed it up. He plopped that in front of me too.
“Hey,” Hambecker said. “What about me? Why does she get all the food?”
“She’s more appreciative, and you’ve got a longer reach.”
Before long, Moose had homemade chicken noodle soup on the stove and was toasting rolls for his hot turkey-with-cheese sandwiches. The kitchen smelled wonderful, and I stopped eating guacamole so that I’d have room for lunch. Hammie pulled three beers out of the icebox and popped the caps off.
“Beer for lunch?” I asked taking a drink. “Aren’t you two still on duty?”
“I’m not planning to drive anywhere today,” Moose said. “The senator’s not here, and you are, so I’m cool.”
“I figure as long as you’re drinking beer, too, I’m okay. I only need to be as sharp as you are fast. My guess is that you are a lightweight and that beer is going to relax you and make you sleepy. Am I right?”
“Probably,” I said. “Beer and ibuprofen. A good start to an afternoon nap.”
“Don’t go to sleep until after the physical therapist comes. She’s going to want to talk to you.”
Luckily, it wasn’t long before she came, lugging her portable table and a carrier full of gear. We had her set up in the little library so I could watch the wind and rain while she worked, but in actuality, the sound of rain put me to sleep.
A gentle hand on my shoulder woke me.
“Time for me to go.”
I didn’t open my eyes.
“Can’t I have five more minutes?”
“I’m sorry, I squeezed you in as a favor to Richard, but I really have to go now.”
I groaned and sat up, swaying on the massage table.
“Here, let me help you.” The massage therapist supported my arm and led me to an armchair in front of the window.
“Sit here until you feel more awake.”
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, she was gone.
Chapter Nine
When I came out of the shower the next morning, the senator’s voice was audible in the hall. My stomach clenched as I wrapped myself in the towel and hurried into my room to get dressed. He sounded jovial; obviously San Francisco had been a success. I rubbed my hair with the towel, finger-combed it, and took a quick look in the mirror. Mascara would help. Too bad I didn’t have any.
Frustrated that I wasn’t looking