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“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Isobel said, her throat dry. “Let me give you some medicine.”
Her hands shook as she got a glass of water from the sink and a pill from the bottle. “Here,” she managed in a mostly steady voice. “Take this.”
He lifted up and took the pill, lids half-mast. Once he finished gulping down all the water in the glass, he handed it back and then collapsed back to the bed, arms hugging the pillow.
New York women.
It was because she was from New York? He’d pulled the one-eighty after they slept together only after learning she was actually from New York and not New Hampshire.
He thought she was just like his wife. New York women.
“Come to sleep, baby,” Hunter murmured, face half buried in his pillow.
Isobel jerked back from the bed.
Did he just…?
He’d just been talking about his wife. Was he so out of it he thought Isobel was this Janie woman? His wife?
Oh God. Isobel felt sick.
But so much made sense now. Why he’d been so instantly attracted to her. He just said his wife wasn’t like any of the girls around here. So when a new woman showed up in town, with the sophistication of the city on her that reminded him of his wife even if he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why…
Her stomach flipped. She shot to her feet and made a beeline for the front door.
But then she stopped as soon as her hand touched the doorknob. She looked back over her shoulder.
Dammit. She couldn’t leave him alone right now. No matter how much she wanted to run away and try to clear her head.
Because running was always the answer, right?
She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her forehead against the door. Shit. Was that really her go-to when things got hard?
After everything that went down that hellish year when she was sixteen, she’d run to Rick and Northingham stables.
Then she’d run away to college.
Then here.
But dammit, what had taking a stand and trying to get control of her future gotten her? Facing her problems hadn’t exactly worked back in New York. And every time she tried to assert herself and take charge of her life here, she just caused more problems. God, she’d almost gotten Hunter killed because of her stupidity in insisting they go out despite the storm.
She was pretty sure that a tornado dropping down almost literally on top of her was karma’s way of giving her the middle finger.
She banged her forehead once on the door before turning around and going to sit on the one chair in the room—the wooden one pushed in at a little desk top beside the TV. She pulled the chair out and stared down at it balefully.
She was exhausted. She needed rest if she was going to drive home tomorrow with the trailer. There was no way she’d even be able to catnap sitting on the uncomfortable chair. She looked over her shoulder.
Maybe she could sleep on the floor? But then her nose wrinkled. God, she was so tired. Her eyes lifted to the bed. Hunter was sprawled out, but mostly just on the left side. With the meds he was on, he’d be dead to the world all night.
She should take a shower. She’d done some spot-cleaning at the hospital but before she got in bed she should really—
Her shoulders slumped, the stress and weariness of the day finally hitting her full force. Oh fuck it. Housecleaning would clean the sheets whether she dirtied them or not.
She flipped off the lamp, then pulled off her jeans. After a second’s hesitation, she pulled off her muddy shirt as well.
She’d wake up well before Hunter and slip out of bed without him ever knowing she was here. She got into bed, pulled the covers up over both her and Hunter, and was asleep within a few minutes.
Oh God, yes. Right there.
