Page 24 of Warming His Bed

I could afford to pay her company back myself. But that didn’t solve the problem of where she was going to stay for the next week while that conference in Rosewood kept all the nearby hotels booked up.

I shook off the thought. That was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, I needed to get her on the mend.

The house was quiet as I pushed through the front door. It was dark, except for the soft glow of the TV coming from the sitting room. I didn’t flip on any of the lights when I came inside. Dr. Ashwood mentioned she could still be oversensitive to light for a few more hours.

She lay sprawled out on her side on my couch, her glossy hair spread across a throw pillow. She wore a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, a pink tank top, and an unzipped hoodie.

My lungs did that pesky not-breathing thing again. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

I closed my eyes, dragged in a deep breath, and opened them again. Reminded myself this wasn’t anything to get used to. Having someone else in my house threw me off-balance. I clutched the plastic drugstore bags hard enough to make them rustle and the noise woke her.

“Hey,” she drawled. She shifted and squinted up at me. “Sorry, I fell asleep on your couch.” She moved to sit up, but then grimaced.

“How are you feeling?”

“Peachy.” She swallowed, then took another stab at sitting up that looked like it pained her.

“Don’t get up on my account.”

A tiny smile ghosted her lips but disappeared when she opened her eyes and took in the bags I held. “Holy shit. What did Dr. Ashwood prescribe?”

Heat crept up my neck. “Only one thing.” Fishing the actual prescription out of the bag, I handed the bottle over to her. “He said to take one of these every night for the next three days. I’ll grab you some water.”

In the kitchen, I filled the kettle at the sink, then dropped it on a burner. While I waited for the water to boil, I grabbed all the pain relievers I bought and removed the safety packaging. Then I pulled out a mug and dropped a bag of the ginger tea in it. Once the kettle boiled and I had her tea steeping, I headed back to the sitting room with her water.

“Here.” I handed her the glass. “How bad does your head hurt?”

“Honestly? Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Nausea?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Take the pill the doctor prescribed. I’ll be right back.”

She gave me a two-finger salute, tossed the pill into her mouth, and chased it with the water.

Heading back to the kitchen, I grabbed her tea and the exact dosages of all the over-the-counter stuff Jack said it would be okay to use together. Then, apparently, the spirit of Emily Post momentarily possessed my body, because I found myself digging through a cabinet for the silver serving tray. My mom used to keep it stuffed somewhere in the back. Once I found the tray, I loaded it with the tea, a little glass dish with the pain pills, and all the other shit I bought at the drugstore.

I carried the tray back and dumped it down on the coffee table in front of her. “Ginger tea. Should help with the nausea.”

“Thanks.” A shy smile broke across her face as she reached for the tea. “And what’s the rest of this?” She gestured at the loaded-down tray.

“Pain meds.” I pointed at the dish. “One Excedrin, one Advil and one Tylenol. All okay to take together as long as you don’t take any more than that.”

She snatched the dish up and gulped the pills down with a sip of the tea.

I ignored the pleased sensation that warmed my chest at the fact that she trusted me.

“And the rest of this?” She gestured at the remaining items.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I stared down at the tray. All of this extra stuff seemed foolish now. What was I trying to do here? This was the kind of thing a doting boyfriend did, not a random stranger putting up a houseguest for the night. “There was a handout about migraines with the paperwork. It mentioned this stuff.”

She studied me for a moment over the rim of her mug. “You read my discharge papers?”

I shrugged. “Needed something to do while I waited on the prescription.” What I needed to do was not give her the wrong idea about who I was. “You all set upstairs?” I cleared my throat and glanced toward the doorway to avoid getting lost in her melted-chocolate eyes.

“Yup.” She caught up with my brusque change in tone and made like she was getting up. “I’ll just take this upstairs with me.”

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