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“Because you’re always the one taking care of other people?”
“Yep.”
She studied his face. In repose, his features were less intimidating. His lashes fanned out against his cheeks, beautiful and dark. This vision of him as a vulnerable male gave Cate an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.
He had done so much for her since the wedding. Was that why she battled an urge to care for him now? Her feelings about Prescott Harrington were not easily understood.
Even though she sat still and quiet so as not to disturb him, eventually Harry stirred and opened his eyes. “Did you bring me a snack?” he asked, his expression hopeful.
“I did. But it’s to go with the medicine.”
“It will stay in my stomach for a little bit. I’m starving,” he complained.
“Don’t get too excited. The only thing in the kitchen was apple juice and a cereal bar. I suppose we should go to the grocery store now that you’re back with the car.”
He looked guilty. “Sorry. I didn’t think about the fact that you would be stranded.”
“It’s no biggie. Everything I’ve needed to do is in walking distance. And I’ve eaten a lot of meals in town.”
Without warning, Harry tried to scoot up in the bed. Disaster beckoned from several corners. First was the way the covers shifted. Cate tried not to look.
But she winced when he groaned in pain. Clearly, the maneuver was not easy. “What are you doing?” she asked, exasperated.
“I can’t eat and drink if I’m flat on my back.”
“I’ve always heard men are terrible patients,” she muttered as she scrambled off the bed and retrieved the snacks. She took the top off the apple juice and handed it to him.
Harry wrinkled his nose. “Haven’t had this since I was a kid.” But he drank half the bottle.
Cate handed him the cereal bar, already opened. “You’re going to get crumbs in your bed.”
He shot her a sideways glance. “I’m the only one in here, so what does it matter?”
She didn’t want to think about who was or wasn’t sharing Harry’s bed. He’d had two whole weeks to reconnect with any of his women friends back in Atlanta.
Just as he finished the snack bar, the alarm on Cate’s watch beeped. She took the medicine bottle and shook out a single tablet. Harry swallowed it down with the last of the apple juice.
“I’m going to sleep in the bedroom on the other side of the bathroom,” she said. The words came out calm and steady, not at all reflective of her jangled nerves. “I’ll bring your meds when it’s time.”
Harry scowled. “You don’t have to do that.”
“But I’m going to,” she said, staring him down.
For once, he was the first to blink. “Fine,” he grumbled. “If you want a night of no sleep, that’s up to you.” He scooted onto his back again.
Cate didn’t even try to help with the covers. He was grumpy and hurting. She didn’t want to poke the tiger.
She took the snack debris and dropped it into the trash can in the bathroom. “I’ll be back to check on you after I take a shower.”
“Don’t go,” he said.
Cate froze. His eyes were closed. She honestly thought he was half-asleep. “I won’t be long.”
“Sit with me, Cate.”
If it had been a command, she might have ignored him. But those four simple words were a plea. Harry needed her.
“Okay,” she said, all the while thinking she should run in the opposite direction. Even injured, Harry was a powerful temptation. Did their enforced intimacy create an unexpected connection, or was she searching for a relationship to fill the hole in her life?
