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Huh?My frown intensifies. “With what?”
When she remains stoically silent I peer behind her again, checking for a glass of water that’s nowhere to be found. But you know what I do find?
“Is that a bottle of champagne?” I’m almost growling. Is she fucking serious?
Suddenly she’s heaving again and then she’s scampering like lightning into the bathroom. She leaves the door wide open in her haste and I watch her tremble and shiver over the sink.
Can I let myself in? This is a mitigating circumstance, right?
“Harper, I’m coming in,” I say, one boot lifting to breach that threshold.
“Don’t you dare,” she whimpers, looking up at me through the mirror in front of her. My eyes stray to the backs of her legs as her knees wobble and quiver.
I should be standing behind her right now, holding her hair back with one hand and stroking her belly with the other. Passing her a glass of water to keep her fluids up before cradling her against my chest and taking her back to bed.
“Food poisoning only lasts a couple days but it’ll go faster if you get the treatment that you need. Water, Dioralytes, rest.” I check them off on my fingers. “Let me take care of you.”
She gives me a sad pout. “Just let me die.”
“Ah shit,” I mutter, looking over my shoulder so that I can see my truck across the site. I hear her rinse out the sink and I turn my attention back to her. “You don’t have anyone nearby?” I ask, knowing damn well what her answer is going to be.
She shakes her head.
I take a deep breath. So this isn’t exactly what I expected to happen when I knocked on her door two minutes ago, especially after Jason gave me that pep-talk about asking her on a date. Actually, this is kind of the antithesis of a date. But I don’t mind. I want her to be safe and well and if I can give those things to her then so be it.
“I’m going to suggest something right now and you can say no if you think that it’s…” I roll my shoulders, looking for the right word. “Inappropriate, or unprofessional. But if you’d like, I can… I could bring you to my place, to look after you until this passes. Or I could even, uh, I could even stay next door.” I would camp out in the fucking woods if she asked me to. “I don’t want you choking on your vomit or anything. I just want you to get better.”
I swallow and straighten up, eyes locking in with hers. She’s leaning against the sink now, legs clenched together and her eyes blinking rapidly. Sweat soaking the neckline of her top. Cheeks glowing raspberry red.
“What do you think?” I ask her, steeling myself for an eye-roll and a door being slammed in my face.
But instead she quivers on the spot and then gives me a little nod. I almost growl with satisfaction.
“Is that a yes?” I ask. “You’re gonna let me look after you?”
Her brow is pinched in pain and she holds her hands tighter around the sink. “Yeah,” she whispers. “But can we please hurry? I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
“I’m going to grab my truck and haul it up here – save you from walking all the way down the valley, okay?” I ask.
She nods, eyes closed.
Fuck it, I’m coming in. I head for her bedroom and rip the quilt off the bed, but as I carry it to where she’s slowly sinking to the floor I realise that it’s soaked with sweat.Why didn’t she call me? I told her to come to me if she needed anything.I throw the quilt down and she crumples onto it facedown, scrunching the cotton under her belly in tight little fists. I notice that her toy bear was hurled during the upheaval so I pick it up, give it a scowl, and then toss it down next to her. One of her hands reaches out and she stashes it under her tits.
I tug my belt buckle as my shaft thickens in my boxers. I’m wanting, badly, but this sure as hell is not the time for it.
I tell the back of her head, “Give me two minutes, Harper,” and then I’m heading back down the incline, ready to get this girl taken care of.
Chapter 9
Harper
It takes Mitch five billion years to get his truck from the bottom of the valley to the bungalows. The sounds of twigs cracking and the metallic wane of the gate to the Nature Trail being opened mix in with the autumnal rustling of the surrounding pine trees. He brings his truck off-road and parks it not more than six feet away from the door, eyes burning into my back as his door slams shut and his boots thud into my empty living room.
I feel the air shift and grow warmer as he crouches down in front of me. Heat tingles down my back, quickly followed by another wave of nausea.
“Truck’s up, Harper. Do you want me to give you a hand?”
“Not exactly the appendage that I’m after,” I mumble, muffling my words into the quilt so that he can’t hear me. Then I lift my head an inch and a throb pulses in my belly. My face is completely level with his groin.
