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When he was sure I wasn’t going to go backward out of the car, he said gruffly, “Get cleaned up.”
“Won’t people stare at me? I’m not exactly dressed.”
Glaring, he said, “Get cleaned up. Everybody knows who Torin is around here.”
Left with the cryptic statement hovering in the air, I let Torin help me from the car and lead the way through the forecourt. There were a few other motorists around, but none of them paid attention to me, which was surprising given how incredibly underdressed I was.
How much power did the Mac Tíre Clan have around here?
If they were anything like my father, it would’ve been a lot.
A cold wind whipped through the air, sending a rush of goose bumps teeming up my arms and legs. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I hustled to keep up with Torin as we stepped into the convenience store.
The lights were harsh, and I blinked at the glare. There were dark gray tiles on the floor, all running away from the door as if leading you in by the eye. Low and mid-level shelving took up more of the floor space, except for a large open area in front of the cashiers, who stood behind a slightly raised desk stuffed with candy, gum, and chips. The brightly-colored bags of snacks looked appealing and that was when I knew I wasn’t feeling well.
“The bathroom is through there.” Torin’s words drew me from my surveillance.
“What?”
He pointed to an alcove beside an ATM. “The bathroom. Get washed up. I’ll get some water.”
Oh, therestroom. “Can I get some chips too? Maybe some chocolate?”
His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Sure. Anything else?”
I shook my head and padded—barefoot—toward the restroom. There weren’t separate male and female toilets. Rather there was only one door with a sign on the front that featured a man and a woman side-by-side but separated by a line. I glanced down at the lock and saw that the writing was green, so I pushed inside.
More of that same dark gray tile covered the floor. There were patches that were damp, and I looked down at my feet again. They were going to get covered in whatever-the-fuck was on the floor, but like I had a choice.
Until I saw a paper towel dispenser on the wall.
I prayed to the restroom gods that there were some left. Tiptoeing and using as little of my feet as possible, I made my way across the small space and drew out a handful of the paper towel before scattering it onto the tile. When I had it sufficiently covered, I hovered over the toilet seat and emptied my bladder. After, I washed my hands, then started working on cleaning the vomit from my face.
Some had gotten into my hair even though Grayson had done his best to hold it back, but like I was going to bitch about that. It could’ve been a whole lot worse. I did what I could to wash it out, and was just holding it under the hand dryer when someone banged on the door.
“Occupado,” I called out, finger combing my hair.
The knocking got louder.
“I’m busy!” I yelled over the hand dryer, hoping whoever was out there would leave. It was probably Torin. It had been a lot longer than five minutes, and Grayson must’ve been climbing up his ass for it. I didn’t know why, but that made me smile.
The hammering started again, and I heaved a sigh.
“Lass, let me in.”
It was Grayson.
My lady parts started to throb, but I shut my eyes and tried to ignore it. My body was messed up from the drugs. That’s why it was reacting the way it was.
“Lass?” he called again, this time his voice lowering a few octaves. “Sloane, let me in this minute, or I’ll bust my way in.”
Walking to the door, I flipped the lock, then quickly stepped back. As expected, Grayson’s anger boiled into the room before he did, giving me a minute to prepare to meet his ire.
“I’m not finished.” I gestured to my damp hair.
His blue gaze flickered from my face, down my body, then to the floor where I was standing on my tip-toes to avoid the now damp paper towel nest. “What the fuck have you done in here?”
“I made it clean enough for me to walk on. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any shoes, and who the hell knows what’s been on this floor.”
