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She gives me a wry smile. “A little bit, maybe.”
“Shit. I didn’t mean to flex. Can we chalk it up to the drugs?”
“Sure.”
“That’s very charitable of you,” I answer. “Now, what I meant to say is that I’d be happy if you’d take some of this stuff, as a thank you for sticking around tonight. You are staying, aren’t you?”
She glances over at the recliner in the corner. “Sure. I can use one of the plush blankets you got.”
“And grab a robe while you’re at it. And some pajamas. Take a toiletry kit. Whatever you like.”
“How about I borrow some things for the night. Not to keep or anything. Well, maybe the toothbrush. You probably won’t want that back.”
“It’s all yours. Seriously.”
“Sweet,” she says before rummaging around for a set of flannel pajamas, a robe, some slippers, and one of the toiletry kits. She starts toward the bathroom, then stops. “Wait. Are you sure you want me to stay? You might get a better night’s sleep if you’re alone.”
“I really won’t. As soon as you walk out that door, I’ll just lay here and worry about whether I’m actually going to make a full recovery.”
She swallows hard and nods. “Well, that sounds awful.”
“It would be. Whereas, with you here, I feel a lot better than I otherwise would. I’m actually having fun, which shouldn’t be possible, given the circumstances.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll stay.”
“Good, because that will make me very happy.” And it will. It really, really will. I want her to stay more than I’ve wanted anything for a very long time. If I were sober right now, that thought would scare the shit out of me, but since I’m in a happy daze, I’m totally fine with it.
14
Hospital Bed Picnics and Pillow Talk
Allie
I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m brushing my teeth with some sort of magical brush that feels like it’s a thousand tiny hands massaging my gums. The toothpaste is a ginger mint flavor that comes from an old-timey-looking silver tube that is probably made from actual silver. I’m wearing the softest, coziest striped men’s flannel p.j.’s of all time (seriously, they feel like getting a big, warm hug). The slippers are too big but the fleece lining is so incredibly soft, I want to live in them forever.
What is happening? Seriously? What? How?
I’m getting a glimpse into what it’s like to be rich and famous. Well, rich, anyway. Or someone with generous rich friends. But it’s not real. This isn’t my life, it’s his. It’ll never be my life. I’m Allegra Cammareri, nerd, scientist, loving daughter, and pushover auntie. I’m not some sexy sex goddess who men like Hudson Finch fall for. They fall for voluptuous hotties from Brazil or icy blondes with perfect skin from Sweden. Not girls like me. I wasn’t even interesting enough to keep Lando’s attention, and he’s a fellow nerd.
But it doesn’t matter because that’s not what this is, and I know it. But whatever it is, it’s incredibly fun. And a little flirty, and totally exciting, even though it’s under the world’s weirdest circumstances. I’m here to hang out with a man who I don’t want around (or so I thought) while he recovers from a poisonous spider bite.
And he’s sweet and funny and thoughtful and sexy as hell, and … and I’m going to get so badly hurt if I don’t hit the brakes on my feelings. But maybe, just for tonight, since I’m here anyway, I could just let myself enjoy being with him. As a friend.
Yes, that’s what we are. Friends. New ones. Who flirt with each other while one of us is drugged. And really, I’m only flirting with him to distract him from his situation, which, when you think about it, is an act of service. So, in a way, I have to keep flirting with him. It’s what Jesus would do. But as soon as we’re back at the office however, it’ll be all business. But for now … fun.
I dig around in the soft leather toiletry kit, find some mouthwash spray, and pump two shots onto my tongue. Oh my, that’s nice. I feel like I’ll have fresh breath for weeks.
When I walk back into the room, I see Hudson typing on his phone. He looks up and smiles at me. “Nice fit. You look ultra-cozy.”
“I may have to change my mind about giving these back. I’m probably going to live in them instead,” I say, setting my clothes down on a shelf in the corner. “Can I get you anything?”
“I wouldn’t mind some crackers from one of those baskets.”
“Crackers, coming right up.” I open one of the baskets and take out two boxes of crackers, then some spreadable cheese and some grapes. A minute later, I’ve got a little mini picnic spread on his overbed tray.
“Come sit and eat with me,” he says.
“I already brushed my teeth,” I answer, then think better of it. After all, how often in my life am I going to get an offer like this? Also, that cheese looks pretty tasty. “Although, I suppose I can do it again.”
