Dougherty looked closer. “Swelling present around the brainstem.” She marked the area of swelling on the inside of the skull and then pulled back the skin to examine the extent of the bruising.
“What mess did you get yourself into last week, Marley?”
Guest House: Sunday, April 29
When the morning sun streamed in through the guest house window, Marley squinted against it. He slid his hand across the soft satin, a slow stretch to start his day. Until he bumped into bare skin. The night came back to him in flashes: the bonfire, the starlet wannabe, her hair a midnight blue that contrasted against her tanned skin. He took her in now, curves in all the right places. Maybe he shouldn’t stare, but she’d asked for it. Twice.
He raised an arm. Winced. Damn, crick in the neck. What positions had
