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Then there’s the whole feelings thing. Louis likes me. If I had any doubt before, staying up for hours last night talking with him confirmed it.
Any more time with him, and I’ll just be leading him on. Giving him false hope.
Even the way he looks at me as he holds up the plastic bag of supplies tells me enough—there’s a warm gleam in his eyes. His freakingpupilsare dilated.
The man’s got it bad.
I’m not the kind of woman he wants to fall for. He just doesn’t realize it. He doesn’t see that I’ll run circles around him. I’mtryingto be a good person for once and spare him from me.
“Flu, huh?” he says. He sets down the bag of supplies and pulls out the medicines he’s brought. “I got you pill and liquid. Wasn’t sure what you prefer.”
“Louis—”
“I got you some cough drops, some tissues, some Vapor Rub—bad childhood memories with that one—and some herbal tea. I got you some licorice too. I remember that one time you stayed at Gio’s compound, you mentioned it was a comfort thing.”
I’m left staring at him.
Ugh. UGH!
“Louis…” I trail off. I shake my head. “You can’t be here.”
“I’m not worried about you being contagious. I have a pretty healthy immune system. Besides, you seem like the type to suffer in silence,” he says. His lips eke out a small smirk and his massive hands clamp down on my shoulders, steering me toward the sofa. “Somebody should be making sure you get some rest.”
“I was doing fine on my own.”
“Do you always push back this hard against help?”
“Unsolicited help, yes.”
“Kitty cat, no offense, but you sound bad. All that sexy purring you were doing last night? Tonight you’re croaking like a frog.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Just being honest. Lay down.”
Reluctance stiffens every bone in my body, but it doesn’t matter. Louis, the brawny enforcer built of muscular, three times the size of a normal person, forces me down onto the sofa. He yanks the blanket into his grasp and then gingerly tosses it over me like he’s tucking me into bed.
What the fuck is happening right now?!?
I want so badly to protest. To jump up and fight him on it. Tell his ass off for having the audacity to barge into my private space and trying and take over, but then my body aches. Then I sneeze and my throat burns and I’m desperately reaching for a tissue.
Louis delivers me some of the medicine he’s bought. “Take two of these. They help with congestion.”
I do. Begrudgingly. Even shooting him a childishly pouty look.
“Good kitty,” he teases, winking at me. His smirk remains. “What’re you watching? Am I seeing things? Are you watching a romance movie?”
“You’re pushing it,” I growl.
Ughhh.
He’s right. Idosound like a frog.
“This is a good movie.” He crashes down on the other end of the sofa, propping my feet onto his lap.
I’m left fucking speechless. Lost as to how, in less than five minutes, my Saturday night home alone, sick with the flu has transformed into this—me and Louis cozy on the couch watching the love story between Sanaa Lathan and Omar Epps unfold.
“I wish you’d said goodbye this morning,” he says minutes later.
