Page 34 of Under Fire in Big Sky

Uncertainty lingered in his eyes. Finally nodding, he hopped out of the truck and hurried inside.

After less than two songs on the radio, he was back. “That was quick.”

“I’d already booked the room while you were waiting in line at the pharmacy.”

The doctor was concerned about her iron levels and thought a prescription prenatal vitamin with a higher concentration would be best.

“I’ll email you the receipt for your expense report.” Eli drove to the side of the building. He parked and handed her the key for room 221. “I’ll grab everything. You can go up.”

She headed to the exterior staircase. On the second floor, their room was a few doors down. She unlocked the door and switched on the lights.

The decor was outdated and run-down, but it didn’t smell musty. Stepping inside and passing through the kitchen area with a table and chairs, she noticed two queen beds.

Uncertain what to think or feel, she faced him when he came in, hauling the luggage and groceries. “Did they have any with a king-size bed?”

“I requested a room away from any others that were occupied, a kitchen, and two beds. Figured more space was better.” He put her suitcase on one bed and his on the other, closest to the door. “I’ll take this one.”

More sand shifted around her, and she suddenly felt nauseous.

“Are you okay?” He came up beside her. “Maybe you haven’t been drinking enough water.”

At Maben’s, they’d stayed for hours with her only drinking water while the others enjoyed coffee. “I’m just hungry and tired.” She stepped away from him, unzipped her bag, grabbed toiletries, and clothes. “I’m going to clean up.”

In the bathroom, Olivia took her time in the shower. She slid a palm over her stomach, wondering when she’d start to show. Now that Eli knew, she needed to tell her parents.

Her mother became suspicious after Olivia quit drinking alcohol and stopped eating sushi. Telling them wasn’t going to be easy. Raised in a conservative Indian-American home, she grew up with traditional values. The only thing worse than Olivia being nearly forty and alone was being unmarried and having a child alone. Her parents were going to be disappointed in her, their only child. Nonetheless, they’d support her. As always. The same way they did when she joined the military instead of going to medical school.

Olivia dreaded getting out of the shower. Ever since she told Eli, things had been weird between them. They couldn’t tiptoe around each other. Too much of a distraction from work. They needed to find a new rhythm and make the mission the priority.

She turned off the shower faucet, dried off, ran the towel over her hair, slipped on pajama shorts and a tank top. Not bothering to blow-dry her hair, she left the bathroom. As soon as the aroma of food hit her nose, her stomach growled. She set her toiletries on the countertop of the vanity area near the closet.

“Go ahead and eat.” He grabbed a towel and ducked into the bathroom. “Don’t wait for me.”

A bowl of spaghetti and a plate of steaks and green beans sat on the table. How long did she take in the shower?

Doing as he suggested, she sat down and practically inhaled her food.

Even though she was craving carbs, the steak tasted the best. She went to the sink and washed her dishes.

The shower shut off in the bathroom.

“The steak was incredible,” she called out. “Just what I needed.”

“Because you’re low in iron. It’s the reason I got the rib eyes.”

Why did he have to be so thoughtful? Such a good person. And hot.

Things would’ve been simpler if he was a jerk, considered a protein shake a meal, and was a lousy lover.

Like the ex she dumped right before she met him.

Eli was only supposed to be a rebound lover. At the time, she wasn’t looking for a lifelong commitment. Only mutual respect and fun. He’d given her plenty of both.

Somewhere along the way, she got hooked on him. Kept going back for more. Even though she contemplated seeing other men, having a real relationship, no one compared to him. Or rather, she never gave anyone else a chance.

“The spaghetti was great, too,” she said. “Perfectly al dente.”

“It’s even better when I make the pasta from scratch.”