Dorothy's eyes fluttered open to the ghostly glow of her phone, where an unread message from Karen blinked back. It was nearly 4 AM when Karen had sent it.
[Hey Dorothy, please thank Mr. Lopez for me, but I'm skipping the tour of Swevia Country! Planning to grab a flight home as soon as I wake up. Kenneth's got stuff going on and my folks are nagging me to come back. They miss me! No need for you to drop by, just take good care of Mr. Lopez, okay? Remember, whatever you decide, your girls are behind you all the way! Love ya, Xxoxo!] Karen's sudden change of heart puzzled Dorothy, but considering Karen's whimsical nature, it wasn't entirely out of character.
[Worried about my troubles and couldn't sleep? Hit me back when you're up, Karen. You came all this way to Swevia Country for me. If you leave without a proper send-off, it'll eat me up inside for life.] Dorothy sent her reply, but the silence that followed suggested Karen had already succumbed to sleep, probably not to stir until noon.
Behind her, Everett stirred. His large hand slipped around her waist, pulling her back into his embrace with a sudden tug.
"Ouch..." But his big move tugged at his wound.
Dorothy quickly set her phone aside and nudged him gently, "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Let me check if it's bleeding. I should call Dr. Quincy to have a look." "Now?" "And when should I call her? Dr. Quincy is probably at work by now." Everett raised an eyebrow, "You sure?" Dorothy paused as she was suddenly conscious of the state of the room. Their clothes littered the carpet, and the remnants of last night's passion lingered in the air, unventilated in their rush to sleep.
If Quincy walked in now, she'd know exactly what had transpired.
She found herself at a loss for words, "I'll... check your wound first, then." "Fine by me." Everett presented himself with no reservation.
Dorothy's fingers danced over his skin, causing a tickle here and a slight wince there when they grazed the wound.
Suddenly, he grabbed her wandering wrist.
"That's enough. Stop looking." Confused by his tone, she insisted, "Did I hurt you? Just bear with me, I need to see if the stitches held up!" Everett's handsome face tightened, and his jawline was more pronounced with tension.
"I said stop," he reiterated firmly.
"Just a little longer, okay?" Instead of relenting, Everett directed her hand downward.
Dorothy recoiled the moment her fingertips encountered an unexpected heat, very different from her own. Shocked, she withdrew her hand immediately.
"You..." "Which is why I told you to stop. Go get ready for the day." He knew he had to exercise restraint for Dorothy's sake. She was literally falling apart.
Flustered, Dorothy gathered her bathrobe tightly around her and scurried into the bathroom.
"Taking a shower?" Everett called after her.
"Yes!" "How long?" Pausing, she called back, "About twenty minutes?" He glanced at the clock. "Fine." Twenty minutes was more than enough time.
Fresh from her shower, Dorothy found Everett dabbing at his hands with a paper towel.
"What spilled?" she inquired.
"Nothing." A rare flush colored Everett's cheeks as he avoided her gaze.
Dorothy reached up to touch his forehead, "You don't have a fever. Why are you so flushed?" With a resigned grip on her hand, Everett's voice carried a hint of restraint, "You might want to avoid touching me right now." Dorothy blinked.
"Dorothy, can you check with Dr. Quincy when I'm allowed to shower?"
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