I extended the box toward her. “A phone. To replace yours.”
She stared at it as if it were an eyelash viper.
I remembered having to show my mother how to use her new phone last Christmas. “Um…need me to set it up for you?”
“Christ, Cole, I’m forty-three, not ninety-three. I can set up a phone. But…why?”
“Don’t you want it?” My insides felt almost as cold as my pruny fingertips. “It’s factory-sealed, no bugs, I swear. I figured you might have someone back home you’d want to call.”
She reached for it, carefully not touching my hand as she took it. “Thanks. I’ll send you a Moo-Lah.”
“No need. Accept it as a token of…friendship.” Was that what was growing between us? I scratched a mosquito bite on the back of my neck. Bridget had a nickel-sized one on her hand, and I grimaced at what I needed to say next. “I think we should check for ticks and leeches, since we were in the water.”
She tapped her card to the lock. “Okay.”
“No.” I stilled her with a touch to her shoulder, which I immediately snatched back. “We should check each other.”
She swiped her hair out of her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Eagle Scout.” I tucked my little finger under my thumb and held up three fingers.
She scratched her forearm. “You really think we could have leeches?”
“Probably not. Ticks are more likely. And they can carry rickettsiosis.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Did you make that up?”
“No, it’s a family of diseases carried by parasites. Like Rocky Mountain fever. Wouldn’t you rather know for sure?”
“Ugh, yes.” She tapped the card to the lock and pushed in. “Come on.”
I followed her inside. Her room was the same as mine, but it smelled different. Instead of the mildly chlorine smell of myroom from the dehumidifier, hers smelled like the roses that grew outside my parents’ beach house in Sausalito. A soft-looking plaid blanket was tossed over the back of the sofa, and a paperback copy of a Carla Harris book on success rested on the coffee table in front of it. Bridget’s clothes and suitcase were put away, and the bed was neatly made.
“Okay.” She stood in the middle of the floor, arms out like she was calling an unsportsmanlike contact penalty. “How do we do this?”
I walked into her spacious bathroom and flicked on the lights. “The lighting’s better in here.” Bottles and powders and a paddle-like hairbrush were lined up in rows on the counter. “Take off as many layers as you’re comfortable with.” To demonstrate, I tugged my shirt over my head and tossed it into the sink. It landed with a wet smack.
I kept my gaze on my sneakers as I wrestled with the wet laces, but I sensed, more than saw, her unbutton her shirt and drop it on the tile. She unlaced her shoes and peeled off her socks. Like mine, her feet were pale and clammy looking, though her toenails were painted a cheerful pink.
“Pants too?” she asked. She wore a white tank that didn’t hide her dusky, pebbled nipples.
“If you’re comfortable.” Ripping my gaze off the wet shirt clinging to her breasts, I unbuttoned my shorts and shoved them to the floor. I was wearing only my boxer briefs, but fortunately, I was too chilled to be stiff.
Her pants flopped to the floor, and her tiny feet stepped out of them.
There was only one way this could go. “You check me first. Examine the skin. You’re looking for ticks about the size of an apple seed, either crawling or stationary.”
“And the leeches?”
“Probably black or brown. You’ll know it if you see it.”
“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she scanned along my right arm, all the way to my fingertips. “All clear.” She examined my other arm while I checked my right armpit. Then she returned to my chest. When she looked across it, my nipples tightened.
“I don’t need to…” She pointed at my briefs.
“No, I’ll do that. Later. Skip to my legs. Especially the backs.”
When she dropped to her knees, I swallowed thickly. It had been months since I’d seen anyone in this position, and despite the chill, my dick woke up. Wildly, I searched my mind for a distraction. Sports statistics. I reflected on the Giants’ season, trying to recall their winning percentage to three digits. It had been well under five hundred, similar to my own record on this trip. Though Bridget’s had to be worse. When she returned to my front, my erection had softened.
