Oh, God.Was this funny or tragic? I honestly couldn’t say.
I made a strangled noise, and Loafers hesitated, like he wondered if I was about to pass out. “Keep talking,” I instructed.
“But there’s nothing else to say!” Loafers lifted his hands and let them flop uselessly back to his lap. “Clearly you have an issue with me, but if my credentials were good enough for Mr. Goodman, they should be good enough for you and for the guests at the resort. I’m a hard worker. I’m an achiever. I’m up to the job.” He gave a firm nod, and I wondered if he was trying to convince himself or me.
Thing was, I had no need or desire to be convinced.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel, and I imagined it was Big Rafe’s neck.
“Look, if you need an apology for earlier, I… I apologize, alright?” Loafers spat the words all fast and wheezy, like he didn’t want them in his mouth any longer than necessary, and I turned to look at him in surprise. “I wasn’t as kind as I could have been back at the airport. I was possibly a bit judgmental.”
“Possibly?”
His eyes narrowed. “Butyouweren’t kindat all.”
“As apologies go, I’ve heard better.”
“So we got off on the wrong foot,” he persisted. “It happens. And I acknowledge that it’s partly my fault. I’d really like it if we could rewind this morning and start over. I’m not at my best,you’reclearlynot at your best.”He made a vague motion toward my eye and my shirt. “But just because a personlookslike a serial killer doesn’t mean theyare,and I know that. And if we’re going to be stuck together for the next three years of my contract, I’d rather not make an enemy on day one. So…” He thrust his hand toward me and pasted on a fat smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mason Bloom.”
I knocked his hand away and pulled the car to the curb in front of a strip mall with only the tiniest screech of tires. “Are you kidding me?”
He blinked. “About…? Oh! Sort of? I mean, in my defense, you’ve got that black eye, and your shirt isfilthy, and you looked like you wanted to murder someone. Possibly several someones. Possiblyme. So, you know—”
“Notthat.” If I’d looked like a serial killer, it was probably because Ihadbeen plotting murder, and that was even before I’d heardthisbullshit. “We’re gonna be working together foryears? You and me? Under contract?”
Loafers’ green eyes went wide. “Uh. Well. Yes? I mean,I’llbe under contract, anyway. Mr. Goodman applied for a private grant on behalf of Whispering Key that will pay off my medical school debts once I’ve completed three years of satisfactory employment. I know we won’t be workingtogether-together, since I imagine doctors and tour boat captains don’t often mingle, but we’ll likely see each other from time to time, so we could be—”
I shook my head emphatically.
“—friends? Friendly acquaintances? No?” His voice got softer until it trailed off altogether, and his face shuttered. “Fine. Forget I offered.”
I pinched the top of my nose so hard, a jolt of pain lanced through my bruised eye and I hissed. I smacked the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. “Fuck!”
Thiswas Rafe’s secret mayor business. He hadn’t done anything that would make the lives of the people on the island better, oh no. Instead, he’d lured this prissy asshole down to the key under false pretenses so he could check a box on a form, and now we’d be stuck paying him forthree goddamn years.
I knew fuck-all about doctors’ salaries, but I knew those shoes weren’t cheap.
So, yeah, my serial-killing career was gonna start with Big Rafe. That is, if Loafers didn’t kill himforme, once he learned the score.
Loafers opened the car door and got out on the sidewalk.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I scrubbed a frustrated hand through my hair. “Get back here, Loafers. I’m not actually going to hurt you, dumbass—”
He ignored me. He tilted the seat forward so he could reach his suitcase and started rummaging around in it.
“Seriously? If you wanna change your clothes, you do it on your own time. I have plans.” Plans involving the cold, shaded sand at the rocks near the motel and possibly an entire six-pack of beer so I could attempt to forget this shitshow. “Get your ass back—”
He clicked the seat into place, plopped down beside me, and slammed the door. Before I could react, he reached over and deftly removed my sunglasses, tossing them onto the center console.
“Hey!”
He crushed a white plastic bag in his hand, twisted himself to get a knee on the seat, and leaned over to place the bag gently but firmly against my eye. I gasped at the cold, but my eye stopped throbbing in seconds.
“An ice pack,” he said unnecessarily, dropping back into his seat. “You’re welcome. If you’d like me to drive so you can see better—”
“You? Drive my car?” I snorted. “That’ll be the day. Nobody drives her but me.”
“Ah. You’re one ofthoseguys.” He put his seat belt back on and stared out the windshield. “Figures.”
