Page 47 of Donovan's Men

“Absolutely.” Hamish and I said the word at the exact same time—which thrilled me more than it should have. That the doc and I were beginning to see things the same way. And see through Donovan’s bullshit.

Except… I held his stare. “Are you on the level here?”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

That oh-so-clever tongue.

Focus.

“Have I had a couple of nightmares? Yes. Did Cole and Julie winning Golden Globes forVigilante Justicehelp? Or Elouise winning for her movie? Sure. But it’s not enough. I can’t—” He swallowed. “The blood. Against his white shirt—” He drew in a deep breath. “I need to get away from here.”

This time I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t have clothes. How long are we staying?”

“Until Monday morning. We can stop at a big-box retailer, and I’ll happily buy you a couple of outfits and some cute jammies.” Whatever darkness had been present vanished, and the devilish grin was back. Probably because he recognized capitulation when he saw it.

I pursed my lips. “You’re not buying me things. I’m perfectly capable.” Because, frankly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bought new clothes. Months, if not years. I tended to buy a pile of jeans because my weight didn’t fluctuate, and if I found something I liked, I bought in bulk. “But I can buy Doc’s.” I had enough leeway in my budget for that, and no way was I letting Hamish get stuck crossing lines.

Hamish jutted his chin. “I’m quite capable of buying my own things.”

I eyed his clothes. “Do they sell corduroy pants?”

He rolled his eyes. “I am capable of wearing jeans.”

Donovan slapped him on the shoulder with his left hand.

“How’s the arm?”Right. Like derailing him might prevent what I know is going to happen.

“Stitches out and healing nicely. You’ll be happy to know Caressa accompanied me to ensure I wasn’t bullshitting the doctor.”

“How—” I considered my words. “How are they doing?”

“Cole, Caressa, and Michael? Wearing the matching rings.”

“No shit.” That sort of blew my mind. They’d had them Sunday night when I’d visited them. Which was a story for another day. “Are they getting married? I mean they obviously can’t all marry each other—”

“Which is really too bad.” Hamish ran a hand through his hair. “Marriage offers protections that few other things can—even legal documents. Alas, three-way marriage isn’t legal.”

Donovan arched his eyebrow. “Wishing you might do it? Eventually?”

That familiar blush was back on Doc’s cheeks. “Just making an observation. They’re not the first triad I’ve counseled.”

A silence held in the air.

“Yeah?” Donovan chuckled. “Do tell.”

“No great secret—they’ve shared with other people and said I’m free to do the same. A Canadian woman has two lovers—an Argentinian and an American. The three live together in Vancouver with an unconventional relationship and an unusual—” He swallowed. “Maybe that’s all I should say.”

“I won’t ask why they went for counseling—” Despite being damn curious.

He waved me off. “The men wanted to assure their third that they truly loved her. They weren’t just using her to get into Canada.”

“It’s tough to get in.”

“Both had unique computer skills. I don’t entirely understand. But they’re on their way to citizenship. Oh, and they have rescue dogs.”

Right. Becausethat’sthe important part of this conversation.

“I do appreciate you sharing that.” Donovan pointed to his bag. Not a suitcase—but bigger than a gym bag. “Tyson can carry that. We need to leave before traffic gets worse. We can take Highway 7 all the way to Mission City.”