“You’re taking the bed,” Cameron said, his chin jutting out. “Doctor’s orders.”
“I don’t think it is doctor’s orders,” I said, “unless you have a degree I don’t know about.”
“I hit you with mycar, Finn. You’re taking the bed.” Cameron put his hands on his hips and gave me a look that evoked the spirit of every pissed-off librarian ever, and it was clear he wasn’t budging on this. And honestly, that earlier wave of exhaustion was back and I didn’t have it in me to argue.
I sat back down. “Fine.”
Cameron gave a satisfied nod and disappeared, coming back a minute later with a comforter and a couple of pillows. He made up the couch with easy efficiency, and I had to concede that it did look pretty cozy, so I didn’t feel too bad about him sleeping there.
As he plumped the last pillow, Asshole trotted across the room and with a single graceful leap, landed on the stack of pillows. Then she fixed Cameron with a baleful stare that doubled as a challenge, started making weird, wet growling sounds—and before you could sayhairball, she’d coughed one up, right on the pillows.
Cameron and I both stared in horror as she coughed up another wet chunk of… something disgusting. It looked vile and smelled even worse.
Not satisfied with her work, Asshole tiptoed around the mess, plopped herself in the center of the comforter, and proceeded to throw up—again. It was honestly impressive how much crap she managed to hurk up for a small cat. She glanced at the small lake of yellow-green bile and hair that was pooling inthe middle of the comforter, then licked her ass a couple of times before jumping off the couch and glaring at us both likewewere the problem here.
“Oh my god,” I said, mildly horrified. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Cameron said through a tightly clenched jaw. He scooped the cat up and carried her through to the laundry room and closed her in there, ignoring the outraged howls she was making. Then he came back and surveyed the damage. “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and sniffed the pillow. His nose wrinkled and he lost some of the color in his cheeks. He bit his lip and was silent for a long moment, but then he squared his shoulders and said, “Well, I don’t have another comforter, but I’ll be fine. I can wipe it off and hope for the best. I mean, how bad can it be, really?”
I took a step forward and sniffed as well, and the acrid smell of cat puke had my stomach roiling.
“It’sbad,” I said. “There’s no way you’re sleeping with that. We can share.”
Cameron opened his mouth, presumably to argue, but I held up a palm. “I’m too tired to fight you on this. You can’t sleep in cat puke, and it’s too cold not to have a blanket. And everything hurts right now, my painkillers are wearing off, and I just want to sleep. So you don’t need to worry. Your virtue is safe tonight.”
Cameron hesitated, but he was obviously tempted. “If you’re sure…”
“Can we just go to bed? Please?”
Some of my desperation must have bled through, because he gave a slow nod. “Yeah, okay. This way.” Cameron led me to the bedroom and opened the door. We stepped inside and I looked around, curious, while Cameron fiddled with the heating controls and warm air started to circulate. The room was small but cozy, much like the rest of the cabin, with wood flooring, what was presumably a picture window hidden by deep graycurtains, and soft blue paint on the walls. A chair in one corner held a pile of clothing, and a plush rug covered most of the floor. A Banksy print hanging over the unmade bed completed the picture.
I was relieved to see the bed was a queen, so at least there would be plenty of space for both of us without it getting weird—well, weirder, because there was no way this wasn’t going to be at least a little awkward.
I could cope with awkward. Right now I just needed some sleep, and when I woke up I’d be well enough to go home. And later, when I’d hopefully charmed my way into Cameron’s bed for real, we could laugh about the whole “accidentally running you over” thing. I smiled to myself despite my aching bones. This could be our real-life “meet ugly turned cute” story. Because Cameronwascute.
But that was something to think about later. Right now I was more interested in that big bed and the thick quilt piled on top of it. I stared at it longingly.
Cameron followed my gaze. “Um. Sorry the bed’s not made,” he said, ducking his head and running a hand over the back of his neck. “Give me a minute to change the sheets.”
I appreciated the sentiment, but Cameron was already sharing his house and his bed. I wasn’t going to give him extra laundry. “I don’t need clean sheets,” I said. “I just need to pass out for eight hours. Unless it’s like, a total jizzfest in there?”
Cameron’s head snapped up at that and I gave him a grin so he’d know I was joking, not judging. After a second his mouth curved up in a smile and he said, “Trust me when I say we’re fine on that count.”
“Then I’m good,” I said.
“Do you need anything else?” Cameron asked. “More painkillers?”
I stretched my arms over my head and winced. “Maybe? But I can get them.” I went back out to the kitchen for a glass of water and took a couple more pain pills, and Cameron disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later there was the sound of running water, and I figured he was showering the last of today’s bullshit away as well.
I went back to the bedroom and, picking the side of the bed where there wasn’t the imprint of a head on the pillow, I slipped between the covers. The feather quilt swallowed me up like a hug, and I let out a sigh that was part pleasure, part relief.
While I still wasn’t convinced I needed medical supervision, I had to admit that it was kind of touching how attentive Cameron was. There were plenty of people who would have just dumped my ass in the emergency room and left, but Cameron had not only stuck around but volunteered to watch me overnight.
And sure, some of it was definitely that he didn’t want to be known as the Hit and Run Librarian of Sugar Hollow, but it was nice to think that maybe it was because he liked me. I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes against the dim light of the bedside lamp, and I was half-asleep by the time the bedroom door creaked slowly open.
A second later there was the quiet thud of a body landing on the mattress, and I barely had time to think that Cameron must weigh next to nothing before something wet and rough rasped against my cheek and a blast of warm breath that reeked of fish hit my face.
I wasn’t proud of the shriek I let out. I lurched upright, my heart hammering against my ribs, and Asshole gave an angry yowl as she tumbled off the bed and hit the ground with a thump.
