Sloan tips his black-beanie-covered head in my direction. "Hey."
Wonderful. Just what Pelican Bay needs. Another monosyllabic tall guy with a military background.
"Yeah, hey. Is no one concerned that a bad guy was on my front porch?”
Spencer tosses his phone to Sloan. "He was likely casing the place to see if you were alone."
"Well Iwas." The words come out a little louder and snottier than I intend.
Spencer places his hands on my shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes. "And that will never happen again."
"Oh."
Oh.
"Sloan and I will take care of things here. You head into the bedroom and pack a bag.”
"A bag?" What do I need a bag for? I get a few feet closer to my bedroom, but then turn back to watch both men lean into each other, whispering back and forth. "You're calm. Why are you so calm?"
Sloan lifts his head. "Comes with the job."
I blow out a breath of air loaded with frustration. "I deliver babies!" I yell to no one in particular and stomp off to my bedroom.
Spencer laughs, following me down the hall. It's super annoying, but also totally hot.
"This is my expertise. If I had to deliver babies every day, you'd find me in a corner, crying. I only survived the plane because there was no time to think about what we were doing."
“I’m not crying.” Yet.
“No, you aren’t.” He smiles and runs a finger down my cheek.
The big gym duffel I use to cart clothes to and from the hospital is packed and ready to go if I ever need to grab it quickly. I like to plan like that. The problem is that bag is currently in my locker…at the hospital. Thankfully, I spot a small rolling suitcase in the back of my closet. One I used when Regina and I went to Vegas two years ago for her twenty-fifth birthday. Moving quickly, I pack it with enough clothing to get me through a day—one set of pajamas, a pair of pants, and a shirt, including fresh underwear and socks.
"Oh no." Spencer leans over, looking in the mostly empty case. "You’ll need much more than that."
"How long will I be gone? My pipes will freeze." It's December. I can't leave the place for long. Even with the heat on, the pipes underneath my kitchen sink will freeze because the wall faces the outside and there's no windbreak.
Spencer disappears into my small walk-in closet. He returns, his arms full of clothes still on the hangers. He shakes the stack over my bed, causing most of the hangers to fall out, and then shoves all the clothes into the suitcase. There's absolutely no rhyme or reason to what he grabs. An assortment of jeans and T-shirts. I swear I saw a flash of gold, which could only belong to a never-worn swimsuit I purchased two years ago but decided wasn’t my style. I don’t have the self-confidence to draw that much attention to my ass.
"Sloan will be stationed here, so the pipes are fine." Spencer crams the last shirt in and turns to my dresser, opening a few doors.
"Stop! I can pack those." I throw my back against the dresser, closing the drawer almost on his fingers. There aren’t just cute, see-through items from Victoria's Secret in my underwear drawer. I also have the big granny panties from Hanes that get worn during laundry day and period weeks. Plus, no woman wants a hot guy going through her underwear drawer on principle alone.
When he steps away while giving me a weird look and half smirk, I slip open the drawer just enough so I can see inside and grab a few pairs of underwear, stuffing them into a big ball in my hands and then under my arm. Socks and a few bras come next.
I hurry over to the bag and shove them in using the same method Spencer packed with. In the middle of my last shove, the house phone rings, which is odd because I only ever get telemarketers or the seven o'clock phone-tree call to my landline. Pearl says she doesn't like the reliability of cell phones in Pelican Bay. Her theory is landlines have worked for generations, and she doesn't plan to change anytime soon.
The ringing quits and then a deep, male voice yells from the front of the house. "Joslin, it's for you."
Spencer gives me a questioning look until I shrug as an answer. I don’t know who it is either.
I take the receiver from Sloan's outstretched hand in the kitchen. "Hello?"
"Hey! It's Tabitha Thompson."
I mouth, "It's Tabitha," to Spencer, and he visibly relaxes. "Um, hi."
"I'm Ridge's girlfriend."
