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Rowan:I felt like taking some time off anyway. Jet lag and all.
Jet lag? Yeah right! We stayed in the same time zone and he knows it.
Me:Feel free to admit that you’re starting to like me at any time.
Rowan:These are the ramblings of a person hopped up on too much cough medicine.
I grin. That’s the man I know and love.
Love?Oh shit. Can I really love Rowan?
How could I not? He’s thoughtful, reserved, and so damn sweet to me that I completely forget how he hates the general population. He drives me wild in the best kind of way and he makes my heart race whenever he’s in the same room as me.
Oh, yeah. I’m in love with Rowan Kane.
The real question is does he love me back?
* * *
“Come on, Zahra. You’ve got to eat something.” Rowan’s voice sounds far away like he’s on a different kind of radio frequency.
I shove his arm away from my shoulder and sink further into his silky sheets. I’m drawing a blank on how long I’ve been using his house as an infirmary tent. All I know is his bed is a hundred times better than mine and I never want to leave.
I’m pretty sure my sinuses make up three-fourths of my brain by now, and my left nostril hasn’t felt fresh oxygen since yesterday when Rowan picked me up from my apartment.
“Zahra.” He turns me toward the edge.
“Go away,” I mumble.
He flicks me on the forehead. My head pounds in response, and I wince. I open my eyes to find a distressed version of Rowan. I’ve never seen him look like this before. His hair is unkempt and he has purple bags under his eyes.
I trace his unusual stubble. “You need to shave.” My voice croaks before I let out a wet cough.
Ugh. Disgusting.
“You slept through breakfast, lunch, and—” He checks the time on his watch. “Dinner. It’s time to get some food in you before you pass out.” The rare high pitch of his voice makes my head throb harder.
“Shh. Talk lower.” I place a finger against his lips. “Wake me up in another—” My sentence is cut off by my body attempting to expel one of my lungs through my throat.
“Here. Take a sip of water.Please.” His voice cracks. He all but shoves the metal straw in my mouth.
I take a sip. “Happy now?”
He frowns. “No.”
“I feel like I’m dying.”
His grip on my chin tightens. “Don’t be dramatic. You have a cold.”
Is thatworryI hear in his voice?
“Okay.” I turn over and give him my back. “I’ll be up in an hour. I promise.”
“I’m going to call a doctor to come check on you.”
“Doctors still do house calls?”
“For the right price.”
