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“Sure,” I said, but my voice cracked. “Wait.” His eyebrows rose. “Listen, there’s something I need to get straight before I go into that house,” I said seriously.
He waited, but his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“Are you a ‘brony?’” He blinked. I gave him my best emotionless look. “The My Little Pony marathon was deeply concerning to me.”
His eyes hooded with annoyance. “You’re awfully pert for someone on death’s door.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“Get out of the car, Laurel.”
I gave him a Cheshire Cat grin as he exited the car and came around to my side before opening my door. He held out a hand, and I took it, still feeling sluggish and woozy. Humor was the only weapon I had in uncomfortable situations like this. What else was I supposed to do when I had decided to put my welfare in the hands of a stranger? Beserious?
He held my hand firmly, supporting my weight up the two concrete stairs and through the sticky door that sealed and unsealed with a satisfyingshwick.
His house was immaculate, of course. Modern and masculine, with black and natural wood finishes, it had wide, open rooms with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the foggy trees below. We crossed a short hallway with a laundry room to the left, and then we were in the open living area. With a kitchen to the left—slashed down the middle with a black granite island bigger than my entire kitchen—and the sunken living area to the right, the house seemed to trickle down the hill with the trees. I stared at the wall of windows to the far right, drinking in the peat moss greens, misty browns, soft grays, and muted beauty of the cloudy day.
Lachlan must have been worried that I had lost strength because he wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me onward. We crossed the wide space, and my worn tennis shoes squeaked across the waxed, pine wood floors. His bedroom, apparently, was directly ahead of us on the ground floor. I didn’t think I could be more amazed by his house, but his bedroom was jaw-dropping.
The low platform bed rested under a towering wall of reclaimed wood, which had been installed along the wall to the row of ceiling-to-floor windows at the far right. White, fluffy rugs and hand-woven throws added warmth to the polished, hardwood floors, and a small sitting area had been arranged by the window wall. Beyond it, a deck with black, metal railings looked out over the misty forest.
Rental apps, eat your heart out.
I suddenly feltreallyguilty about being in this man’s pristine palace in the mountains.
And then I felt like I was going to be sick. My stomach lurched, and I stiffened, swallowing back watery bile.
Lachlan reacted, lunging to the side as I fell to my knees. Like he was the star forward for Real Salt Lake, he kicked a galvanized metal trash can right to me. I grabbed it and heaved. There wasn’t anything in my stomach, but maybe the IV had put some liquid in my system. I vomited burning liquid, and tears smarted at the edges of my eyes from the torturous pain of the bile along my strep-ravaged throat. My ears rang and felt like they might actually explode.
Lachlan was there, rubbing my back and making sure the strands of hair from my messy bun didn’t get into the vomit. I hated that he was there, watching me do that. And, in direct opposition, I was really glad I wasn’t alone.
When the convulsions in my stomach finally stopped, I sat there on my hands and knees, shaking like crazy and covered in a thin film of sweat.
Lachlan pulled me against him, and his arms pressed me soothingly to his chest. “It’s the fever,” he said. I felt his voice when he spoke. It filled my whole body with pleasant vibrations. “Let’s get you hooked up with some fluids again, and I’ll push some more antipyretics. How much daytime cold medicine did you take?”
I shook my head. “Like… three swallows?”
“Good God, woman, how are you still alive? Do you always take medicine that way?”
“No?”Yes.
He sighed. “How aboutwhenyou took it?”
“I guess it was maybe seven this morning.”
“Okay, that should be good enough. I’ll give you acetaminophen and one of those Novocain lollipops I promised you.”
That sounded intriguing. And gross. But it probably wasn’t worse than the acrid bile still lingering on my tongue.
He helped me to my feet again, and this time, I staggered toward the bed, all feelings of guilt washed away with the contents of my stomach. I wanted to lie down on those bleach-white blankets, burrow myself into whatever downy comforter Dr. Luxury definitely had on there, and escape into oblivion.
Sure enough, the sheets were crisp and smelled like the same laundry detergent I’d noticed on him. He eased me into the bed, and of course, he unlaced my old tennis shoes with clever fingers that had my mismatched socks out of them in seconds.
I logged that away for later.
I swung my legs under the swishy comforter and sheets, settling against the pillows.
Pure bliss. I closed my eyes with drowsy appreciation. Dr. Cade noticed, and I heard him give a low chuckle. “I’ll go get a few things from the car and be right back. Mind your IV port.”
