Instead, I always tried to give Dane some space as soon as my heat passed. After all, even though I knew he got off during our time together, I was sure he was anxious to get out and find a woman or ten to purge his mind of the things he’d done for me. Which was why after I’d cleaned the condo and aired the stink of heat and sex out, I was back at The Lair with my tender ass planted on the same barstool I’d occupied the week before, staring at a hockey game on the tv over the bar.
“Hey, man.” Dexter greeted, plopping down next to me.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Just a little tired.”
Dex sniggered. “I’ll bet.” He grabbed my shoulder and spun my stool to the side. “You look like you just came back from a spa trip.”
“What the hell?” I groused, grabbing a stack of cocktail napkins to wipe up my shirt. “You made me spill my drink.”
Dex scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like that shit is worth drinking. I did you a favor.”
I sighed, too tired to argue with him.
“Well?” Dex prompted. “You gonna spill?”
I sighed again, louder. “No, but you already know that. It would be disrespectful.”
Dex rolled his eyes, hard. “Have you ever even asked Dane if he’d mind you talking about his sex life?”
“I’m not part of his sex life,” I huffed. “You know that. Can we please skip this?”
“Yeah,” Dex agreed, shoving lightly at my shoulder. “You know I’m just messing with you.”
I did but it still grated on my nerves to have my hopeless crush prodded at, especially when I was still coming down off the heat high. Dex really wasn’t a jerk so he easily switched topics and began rambling on about the hockey game I’d missed on Saturday. Not that I felt even remotely like I’d missed out.
While he was regaling me with a second-by-second description of the first goal of the game, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it free, I saw a text from Dane.
Don’t forget, dr in am.
Dex paused in his story and raised a brow.
“Just a reminder for my doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” I glossed over, shoving the phone back in my pocket and changing the subject. “So, any update on that friend of yours getting out of jail?”
~*~
“Dane, you know you don’t have to come to these appointments with me, right?” I groused, even though I secretly loved the way he was always there for me.
“You say that every time,” Dane observed with a grin as he pulled his car into a parking space in front of the clinic. “We both know I’m coming with you, so why fight it?”
Why, indeed? I gave a put-upon sigh and shoved my door open before Dane could come around and open it. “All right, papa bear,” I huffed. “Then let’s get this over with and get on with our day.”
Dane just laughed and followed me inside. “There’sthat positive attitude that could charm the birds from the trees!”
I ignored him as the nurse led us to the exam room. With after-heat exams being one of the most routine appointments the clinic offered, we were barely there long enough for me to strip to my boxers before there was a knock at the door.
“Mitchel, Dane,” Dr. Quail greeted us jovially when he joined us in the exam room. “Nice to see the two of you.” He glanced down at my chart and then looked back at me with a critical eye. “Mitchel, you certainly look like you had a good heat. Excellent color, good muscle tone. You were able to sleep? No problem eating?”
Like he did after every good review of my condition, Dane puffed up with pride and I rolled my eyes, waving to tell him he could talk. After all, he knew more about how it had gone than I remembered.
“Mitch slept an average of ten hours out of every twenty-four, mostly in four hour stretches,” he announced like he was reeling off athletic stats for his favorite player. “He ate at least five times each day and each meal included lean protein, whole dairy, and raw vegetables.”
Dr. Quail raised a brow. “Why raw?”
Dane laughed when I shuddered. “Mitch can’t eat cooked or hot vegetables during his heats,” he explained, winking at me. “They’re icky.”
