Read Charleston with a Clever Cougar: A Dance with Danger Mystery #6 for Free Online Page A

know that my lips
don’t get chapped when I use lip gloss. Shall we go?” I asked him,
as he put the makeup back into its sack, put it in my pocketbook,
and picked up the tablet and the keys. “Can you please put the
tablet into the side pocket?”
    “Handy. What about a coat?”
    “Oh,” I groaned. Putting on the big shirt had
been painful, and the thought of slipping my arms into a coat was
almost more than I could bear.
    “Where’s your closet?” he demanded. Spying a
door to the left of the entry, he quickly opened it and began
digging through the hanging items. He examined a couple of choices
before pulling out an old swing coat in raspberry wool.
    “How’s this? You can wear it as a cape, so
you don’t have to put your arms through the sleeves.”
    “But it’s pink!” I made a face.
    “What’s more important, being
color-coordinated or being comfortable?” When I hesitated to
answer, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Suffer
if you must.”
    Three coats later, I settled on my tan
microfiber parka, which he draped around my shoulders. I started
towards the front door when I heard him address me in that rough
tone again.
    “You have your prescription?”
    “What?” Turning, I looked at those fierce
eyes, unsettled by what I saw.
    “Your pills. Do you have them with you?”
    “Oh, no. They’re in the bedroom.”
    “I’ll get them.” Before I could protest, he
had gone up the staircase, returning triumphantly a moment later,
bottle in hand.
    “How did you know I had a prescription?” I
wondered.
    “I was a medic, remember?” That rigid look
came back to his face. “I used to have to give these to guys who
were injured all the time. You don’t want to skip a dose. It’ll
create problems for you. What are you supposed to take for the
swelling?”
    “Advil.”
    “Where is that?” he asked.
    “Powder room, on the sink.”
    Once again he headed down the hall,
reemerging a moment later with the bottle. Everything was tucked
into my pocketbook, which he shouldered, and then he escorted me
out of the condo, locking the door behind us.
    “I don’t even know your name,” I told
him.
    “You can call me Doc.”
    “Doc?”
    “That’s my nickname.”
    “What’s your real name?”
    “I stopped using that a long time ago,” he
acknowledged.
    “Why?” That slipped out before I could stop
myself. I heard him draw a breath before he answered.
    “Dermot Ayotte.”
    “Wow. That’s a mouthful,” I commiserated.
    “I left that life behind when I went into the
Army. Now I’m Doc. Any more questions?” The tone warned me off, so
I dropped it. But it made me wonder who Doc really was and what he
was like before the Army claimed him.
    He led me across the parking lot of the
Soundings to an old, beat-up green van. When he opened the door, I
stuck my head in, wondering what I was getting myself into by
accepting a ride from this stranger. There were two bucket seats up
front and an empty cargo space in the back. I could see a couple of
duffle bags, a sleeping bag, an inflatable twin mattress, and what
looked like a tent sack. Doc was a camper. Even though the outside
was showing wear and tear, the interior of the van was neat and
tidy, the seats clean and uncluttered, the cup holders empty.
    “Let me give you a hand up,” he insisted, as
I studied the step I would have to navigate to climb in. Without
warning, his hands took hold of my waist and I could feel his
breath on my cheek. “Okay. Duck your head and step up. I’ve got
you.”
    Once I was in the van, he reached across me
and pulled my seat belt into place, clicking the metal fastener
into its receptacle. Then he carefully closed my door and
disappeared momentarily. I waited, somewhat nervously. I wasn’t
used to letting strangers take over my life like this. I hoped he
was as careful with his driving as he was with his van. It didn’t
really matter how friendly he was. I just wanted to get to the shop
in one