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He brushed a hand over her thigh. “I’d take seeing you like this over not seeing you at all any day.”
She exhaled softly.
“Except for one part,” she continued, struggling to open her eyes once more. “There’s one part I want to feel again.”
His pulse quickened. “Which part, Mighty?”
“Loved.” Beth yawned, and she began to doze again. “I think this is the birthday where I felt the most loved.”
He bent over and pressed his lips to her forehead, the words escaping before he had a chance to hide them away.
“You were,” he said softly. “You are.”
“Me too,” she murmured, and then she was out like a light, leaving Eli in the wake of an admission she’d certainly forget by morning.
Eli could feel someone staring at him. He didn’t believe in any sort of sixth sense, and science chalked the phenomenon up to confirmation bias. But still, he felt someone’s gaze on him. He had to blink a few times when he opened his eyes in order to adjust to the sunlight streaming in from the bedroom window. And when he did, he found himself caught in the terrifying, beady-eyed stare of a white hen.
“Jesus!” he hissed, bolting up onto his elbow. “What the—”
“Shhh,” someone whispered behind him. “We’re playing chicken…for lack of a better term. No way I’m losing this staring contest.”
Lucy, the supposed psychic chicken, had somehow made it outside the coop and straight to Eli’s window.
Had Jenna come by to collect some eggs and somehow let Lucy escape? Had he forgotten to lock up the coop after his most recent visit with the chicks? His property was fenced in for this exact purpose, but still, he’d have to touch base with Jenna later that morning to make sure he shouldn’t be worried about anyone wandering the property who shouldn’t be.
For now, he decided to roll over to face the person he thought was the reason for his nonexistent sixth sense.
“Hey!” Beth exclaimed. “You broke her concentration.”
Eli glanced over his shoulder to see Lucy strutting away back toward the coop.
“Doesn’t that mean you won?” he asked, bringing his attention back to the woman in his bed.
She beamed. “You’re right! I won!” She craned her neck to look over Eli’s shoulder. “Take that, Henzilla!”
She brought her attention back to Eli, and he quirked a brow.
“Henzilla?” he asked.
She gave him a one-shoulder shrug. “If the name fits.” Beth’s cheeks suddenly went crimson, and she pulled the bedsheet up over her nose. “I’m in your bed.”
He nodded. “I’m in my bed.”
“Correction,” she continued, “I’m in your home.”
He was well aware of this fact too.
“Why?” she added. “You’ve never so much as offered me a peek inside. Now I’m in your bed having a staring contest with a chicken. And this?” She reached behind her and produced the sticky note he’d left on the bedside table. “Eat and drink as soon as you wake up,” she read. “I did it. I ate the banana and drank the water, and I feel almost human again. Thank you, Dr. Murphy.”
He smiled. “I promised your sister I’d take care of you. Seemed easier to do it here rather than at your place.” His rational brain provided the simple, matter-of-fact answer. But he was stalling.
Even with half her face covered, he could see her expression fall.
“Oh…” She deflated. “Because Delaney asked you. I was pretty awful last night, huh?”
Eli shook his head. “No.” He blew out a breath. “That was my safe answer. And you know what? I’ve been playing it safe for years, and what the hell has it gotten me?”
Last night, he acted without thinking, without talking himself into or out of a decision. But the truth was the simplest answer of all.
