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He worked quietly and methodically and soon he was lifting up my foot and taking off the bag. I showed him the little bag of supplies the nurse had given me to take home—swabs, gauze, band aids and little packs of antibiotic ointment filled it. He went to work and soon had my foot swabbed clean with peroxide from the medicine chest. Then he applied ointment and a gauze bandage and taped it all up. Next he helped me put the brace back on my wrist, and helped me down from the sink top.
    We walked back to the bedroom, and he sat me on the side of the bed and pulled out a pair of underpants, some jeans and a shirt from the drawer before tossing them down beside me. I was enjoying the view of his ass as he found the things in my drawer. He looked up and caught me, smiling at me almost unwillingly.
    “I can’t figure you out, Gavin,” he said, shaking his head. He went back to the bathroom and came back with his clothes on again. He had his hands shoved down in his pockets, and he looked a little unhappy. I knew he was already regretting what we’d done. I wondered if it was because I was the subject of his investigation or if it was because he thought I was a thief. Or maybe both.
    “I need to go to the grocery store to buy a few things. Could you possibly drive me?” I asked. “I mean, I know you’ve done a lot already, but I can pay for your gas.”
    He shook his head. “You don’t have to pay for my gas. It’s not that.” He left the bedroom and then walked back in again. When he spoke this time, he seemed really emphatic. “I’ve let this thing get out of hand. I take full responsibility, but what happened just now was a mistake. I should never …” He stopped and ran a hand through his short hair before turning and leaving the room.
    I thought he was going back downstairs, but he popped back in again. He stood in the door and pointed his finger at me. “We’re not friends, Gavin, no matter what just happened here. I’m being paid to investigate for the insurance company and that’s what I’m going to do, understand?”
    I nodded, wondering if he was trying to convince me or himself. He frowned at me. “And don’t think I’ll take it easy on you or look the other way, because I won’t! If I find out you know where those missing paintings are, I’ll come down on you so hard you won’t know what hit you. You got that?”
    “Yes, Connor Todd. I got it. It’s fine—you don’t have to take me to get my groceries.”
    “Goddamn it, stop calling me ‘Connor Todd’ like some kind of…” He slammed his fist against the door and glared at me. “And it has nothing to do with the fucking groceries!”
    “Okay, I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure what I was sorry for, but I thought a blanket apology might help.
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at me some more. “Damn it. Just put some shoes on and I’ll take you, but you have to answer some questions for me when we get back. And don’t think I’m letting you out of it! ”
    He really needed to work on his post-coital skills. “Okay,” I said and got up to hobble over to the closet and find an old pair of sneakers. They fit over the bandage on my bad foot pretty well, and by not tying my shoe, it wasn’t too painful. I’d have liked to have gone barefoot, but I could only imagine how that would go over.
    I straightened up and said, “I’m ready,” and he followed me as I hopped and hobbled down the stairs. I liked the way we’d come up them much better, but he seemed to be regretting all that earlier closeness, so I didn’t push it.
    He barely spoke to me all the way to the store, and once we got there, he told me to use the wheelchair they had there for handicapped people while he waited outside. He trailed along behind me as I made it inside and found one. The wheelchair had a little basket on the front, so it was fine. He cleared his throat as I looked up at him from the chair.
    “So, okay, I’ll go outside and wait for