As they walked to the truck, Adam stayed right beside Preslee in case she had another episode. Michael must’ve been thinking the same, because he flanked her other side. But they made it to the truck without incident and headed for Adam’s apartment.

Once there, Adam directed her to the bathroom to take a shower. He loaned her a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and threw her muddy, smelly clothes into the washing machine. She emerged from the bathroom smelling much better than when she’d gone in. She looked better too.

Michael jumped into the shower next while Adam showed Preslee to his bedroom, where they argued over whether or not she would be spending the night. Adam won easily enough, since she was at his mercy. She’d ridden with him in his truck and didn’t have her car with her. He hadn’t meant to hold her hostage, but he wasn’t going to let her go home to an empty house after collapsing either. There would be no one there to watch over her.

When Michael came into the room, fresh from the shower, Adam stepped out to give them some privacy. He wasn’t keen on leaving his brother alone with her—especially in a bedroom—but he was fairly certain Michael would behave professionally and keep his hands to himself. At least he’d better, if he knew what was good for him.

While waiting, Adam took a shower and then added his and Michael’s dirty clothes to the washing machine before measuring out some detergent and turning it on. Then he sat in the living room, drumming his fingers on his knee as he waited patiently for his bedroom door to open. They were taking much longer than he’d expected.

It wasn’t until the washing machine had run through an entire cycle that Adam began to worry. He busied himself by swapping their clothes from the washer into the dryer, but he couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild as he planted himself back onto the couch. Had Michael found something wrong? Or, even worse, was he in there making a move on her?

The irritating thought sent lava flowing through his veins. Brother or not, he’d kill him. But when the bedroom door finally opened, all of his jealousy-induced urges to murder his sibling went dormant.

Adam shot to his feet as Michael stepped into the living room. “Is she okay?”

“Shhh. She was so exhausted that she wasn’t able to keep her eyes open. I examined her, and she fell asleep while we were talking.”

“But she’s all right?”

“Yes. Technically.” Michael stood there with a contemplative look on his face, as if he was mulling something over.

Adam frowned. “What do you mean ‘technically’? What’s wrong with her?” Damn it. He knew something was going on.