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Kayde Lane certainly doesn’t adore me. Not in a sense that I’d find normal, at least. The look fades as I stare up at him, and he strokes his thumb over my lip. “Hello there, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t use it, you know.” I don’t know why that’s the first thing that comes to mind, and confusion furrows his brow. “My safe word; I never asked you to stop.”
Yet again, that unreadable expression comes over him, though he never stops the movement of his thumb on my lip. “I know you didn’t,” he agrees at last. “I thought you would. You proved me wrong.”
As more of my brain reboots, I find myself less able to speak my mind. He terrifies me, I remind myself. As much as I don’t like to admit it or show it, he’s an ax murderer and I’m just a camp counselor trying to save everyone here like it’s my job.
Too bad I’m not getting paid for it.
Wordlessly, Kayde shifts, picking up my hand and uncapping a small bottle with a flick of his thumb. As I watch, he lets some of the thick gel drip onto the back of my hand, just above where my skin burns slightly from the ropes.
“I can do it,” I sigh, still feeling like I’d rather go back to sleep.
“I know,” Kayde assures me as he rubs it in on one wrist, then the other. I can’t really do anything but watch as he does the same to my ankles, and belatedly I realize that while I may not be wearing my bra or underwear, he’s dressed me back in my tee and shorts. My shoes are somewhere else, presumably on the floor, and I sink back to the bed when he’s done, unable to take my eyes off of his face.
“You could take the day off,” Kayde suggests, standing and dropping his backpack to the floor. “Are you feeling okay, though? You aren’t dizzy or short of breath? How’s your throat?”
“I don’t take days off,” I mumble, turning on my side so I can watch him walk around the small room, as if it’s his, and he’s busying himself with straightening up.
As if he feels awkward.
“I feel okay. I’m just tired, not dizzy. And my throat…” I swallow experimentally, and frown. “Well, you certainly choked me, huh?”
He only chuckles in response before returning to the bed and sinking down onto it. His hand comes back, stroking through my hair once, then tugging on it when I think he’s going to do it again. “Well, at least you’re better at being mouthy when I’ve fucked all the fear out of you, huh?”
I look away from him instead of giving him an answer, gaze sliding up to my ceiling instead of at his handsome face.
“Seriously, consider taking a sick day. Darcy did it for hiking yesterday. Surely you can cough a few times, put on a good act, and get out of whatever tomorrow is.”
“It’s just a free day for the kids, mostly,” I admit, knowing that if there was a day that I could take off, it would be tomorrow. Kins and Liza would take care of my girls, if needed. Especially since I’m sure they’ll want to spend it either at the lake or playing volleyball. They’re not crafters, unless it’s something questionable, so most of the time they’d rather relax, swim, and have a good time than do anything incredibly physical like hiking or more kayaking.
“Then call in sick.” Kayde’s words are firm, and he tugs again on my hair before getting to his feet. “You need the sleep, for one. And you look…” His eyes skim over me, from my face to my feet, then back up again. By the time he’s once more looking at my face, his eyes are dark, his lips parted slightly.
“I look what?” I ask, confused. If he’s going to insult me, he might as well do it.
But Kayde just shakes his head and heads for the door, his steps quicker than I expect before the door is closed between us, and I hear his retreating footfalls on the stairs outside.
Leaving me confused, concerned, and exhausted.
The banging on my door sends me skyrocketing out from under the blankets. So instead of just nearly falling out of bed, I crash to the floor with a groan and an undignified yelp of surprise.
“Summer?!” Kinsley’s panic is clear in her tone as she shoves the door open, holding it with her shoulder as she steps inside to look at me on the floor. “Please don’t tell me you fell out of bed…” she trails off, her eyes widening as she stares at me. “Holy shit.”
“No,” I groan, dragging myself back onto the mattress. “I don’t want to hear it. Especially if it’s about?—”
“Is that from Kayde?”
I’m so shocked by her question, I nearly fall out of bed again. But I manage to sit up by my pillows, legs curled under me, and look at her with enough functioning brain cells to see she’s carrying a tray laden with a plate, a mug, and a glass of what looks to be orange juice.
“Why in the world would you think it’s from Kayde?” I demand, though I know Kinsley is all too aware of the telltale signs of a lie from me. It’s not my fault my best friend can read me like an open book; I usually have no problem with it, but today it’s definitely a little inconvenient.
“Oh my god it is, isn’t it?” She sits down hard, setting the tray between us on the bed. It’s full of my favorites, including a pile of hash browns with a slice of American cheese melted on top, biscuits with gravy on the side, and two maple sausages.
My best friend really is perfect. Especially since she grabbed me a handful of creamer for the coffee on the tray and salt packets for the hash browns. All I want in life is a guy to do the things my best friend does for me when I’m not feeling well.
“Why do you think that? And God, Kins, you’re the best best friend ever for this,” I add gratefully, pulling the tray toward me after she swipes the cup of orange juice so I don’t spill it. “You literally got everything I could’ve asked for. And getting the cheese on the hash browns? I think I love you.”
“Well, umm.” Kins clears her throat, looking suddenly sheepish. “I’d love to take credit for this…” she trails off, watching as I stuff a wad of hash browns into my mouth. “But I’m just the one to deliver it. I didn’t, uh, put it together for you.”
