Fortune's Favor

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Avery dumped the body he’d been carrying onto one of the beds and rotated his shoulder. With any luck, no one had followed them back to the hotel, and come the morning, tonight would be a forgotten episode. With as much alcohol as the idiot on the bed had consumed, he’d be lucky to survive a massive hangover when he woke.

And speaking of headaches… Avery massaged his temples, overdue for a good night’s sleep. He took advantage of the quiet while he could. After locking the door, he stripped down to his Skivvies, slid under the covers of the unoccupied queen bed, and closed his eyes.

He opened them again—three hours later, according to the clock—and stared up at a bleary-eyed, aggravated, six-foot-three mess of trouble.

“You do that again, and I’ll kick your ass back to Oregon.”

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Avery promptly closed his eyes, wanting a few more hours of sleep. Cleaning up after Nathan was getting old. Not that his new partner didn’t have a reason for his benders and lashes of temper. Finding out one’s mother had recently passed away could make the best of men emotional. God knew what he’d do if his own mother died.

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