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Molly had been the one to deliver the plan-altering news less than an hour ago, when she’d casually mentioned that Julian had been asked to fill in for Garrett at the San Antonio Daily this morning. Garrett had come down with strep.
Kate had been floored. How could she not go and take care of him?
“You love that man like crazy, Kay. Just look at how you’re running to his side at the first sign of trouble! I just can’t see why you’re so determined to leave Texas,” Molly complained as she licked the remaining vanilla topping off a discarded spatula. Her cheek was smeared with a streak of red.
Since she was an artist, Kate’s little sister always had smudges on her clothes, hair or face, but it only enhanced her bohemian style and made her look even cuter—especially to Julian, who would always tickle and poke her whenever she was “messy.”
“You know, I thought you guys would bond over your strep throat,” Molly continued with a frown. “You still could now that you gave it to him. Did he kiss you?”
Kate clicked the oven light on and peered through the window to check on Garrett’s muffins. “Molly, please start supporting me a little more in my decision. I’ve told you I’ll fly over here to see you as much as I can. We can talk on Skype all the time, too. And of course we didn’t kiss. I’m not stupid! Who kisses a sick person?” Kate said in disgust.
“Someone who loves them.”
She snorted. “We’re not you and Julian.”
“Kate, the day Julian and I got back together, he and Garrett had a talk. Julian tells me that the man is severely and painfully in love with you and doesn’t even know it.”
Kate’s heart stuttered, and at that moment, her chest felt as spongy as the muffins she was watching through the oven window. She remembered the way Garrett had taken care of her the day she’d come home with strep.
He’d checked in on her every afternoon afterward, but that first day, he’d spent the night with her. A quiver raced down her skin when she remembered how they’d cuddled all night. He’d stayed dressed, like he had when he’d been drunk and crashed in her bedroom the night of his birthday, but he’d held her as if she was precious.
When she’d woken up in the middle of the night to realize he was holding her, she had been engulfed with such a feeling of happiness beyond what she’d ever felt before. On impulse, she’d stroked her fingers along his stubbled jaw, and he’d made a strange, groaning noise as he’d turned his face into her touch, his voice deliciously groggy. “You feel all right? Do you need anything?”
“Sorry. I’m perfect. Go to sleep.”
She’d cuddled back down to hear his heart beat under her ear, and she’d wanted to stay awake just to memorize its rhythm. She’d never, ever, felt so whole. Which only made her feel sorry for herself now. Because they hadn’t even kissed. Had he made her melt over some snuggles?
It wasn’t just the snuggling. It was also that they’d known each other for so long they didn’t even need to talk. When she’d woken up, he’d been awake and watching her with a smile on his handsome face, and his eyes had seemed to turn liquid as he’d run a finger down her cheek. “Fever’s gone,” he’d whispered.
And she’d almost swallowed her tongue and nodded. Because she’d known there was nothing she could do for the other kind of fever inside her. She’d had to remind herself that this was Garrett, a very stubborn, hardheaded Gage man, and that he wasn’t her lover or a Prince Charming. Garrett had some serious baggage to deal with, and Kate had once loved him—too hard, and for too long, and too painfully—to allow so much as a little flicker of hope to linger.
Julian might think that Garrett had feelings for Kate, but all he surely felt was the same thing he’d always felt. Guilt and responsibility.
Beth spoke up from her corner of the island, where she busily worked her artistic skills on a tray of cookies for the shower. “You’re shaking your head at me now, Kate, but now that I think about it, I also suspect Garrett has always had a thing for you.”
“No, he doesn’t. And I’m sick and tired of chasing after him like some tramp,” Kate countered as she dumped the egg shells in the trash and wiped the granite counter clean.
Molly laughed. “Kate, you’ve never chased after Garrett, at least not blatantly. Men are sometimes stupid about those things—you need to be frank with them.”
Frank?
All right, so let’s be frank.
Kate had stripped in front of him. She had almost kissed him in her bed when he’d dragged that cool cloth around her body. Hell, she was pretty sure if she hadn’t been sick, she would have thrown herself at him. And she’d done this with her plane ticket to Florida already sitting in her night drawer. That just couldn’t be good. Could it?
She’d lain there with her eyes closed as he ran that cloth over her, and she’d been shaking in her bones as she’d imagined what it would feel like to be kissed by him. She’d even had dreams about it all during the week. Heat had spread through her at one particularly erotic one, when she’d felt him touch her aching nipples, then kiss them....
That night in her bed, she’d wanted to
dissolve into his strong arms when he’d held her, and when he’d dried her hair, she’d been so affected and felt such desire pool between her thighs, she’d almost released an embarrassing sound that only her raw throat—abused by the strep—had been able to stop.
No. If she stayed here, she wouldn’t be able to stay away from Garrett, and seeing him while not having him would be torment. It had always been so, but after the night of his birthday, when he’d cradled her face and tried to tell her he’d do anything to fix her “dilemma,” and after he’d nursed her when she was sick, it felt doubly so.
It.
Hurt.
The man might not love her as his mate, but he cared about her, and Kate knew this was exactly why she’d never be able to ever come clean with her feelings. He’d either feel awful about not responding, or feel pity for her and do something gallant like keep on sacrificing himself for her to make up for what he “took.”
