Page 37 of Head Over Spurs

“Jules?” he called again, his voice mingling with the sound of his steps entering the apartment.

“Here,” she choked out, her throat was raw from all the heaving it had been doing.

A clacking sound on the wood floors of the living room and bedroom continued until a pair of square toed leather boots stopped in her eye line.

Without hesitation, he dropped to a knee at her side, taking her face in his hands. His embrace was a welcome comfort, and she nestled into it greedily.

“Are you okay? What happened?” There was an urgency in his tone. She wondered how ill she must look to bring that out in him.

“Food poisoning,” she managed.

Gently, he smoothed her hair back from her face. “You’re too hot,” he said decidedly. “When is the last time you had any water? Or even got off this floor?”

“Um, well it’s morning now so… after dinner last night?”

“Shit,” he growled. “That’s too long. Why didn’t you call me?”

Riley cradled her to his chest, sliding an arm under her legs and rising. She felt small—and secure—in his embrace. But moving was a bad idea.

“No, I need to stay there in case I get sick again,” she protested.

“I’ll bring you something to get sick in.”

“I need the cold floor.”

“I’ll get you something to cool you down too,” he replied calmly.

It was just a few steps to go from her en suite bathroom across to the bed. Setting her down atop the fluffy duvet, he was delicate as he adjusted a pillow under her head.

“You have an answer for everything,” she huffed. She wouldn’t admit that it was certainly more comfortable on the bed.

A deep chuckle escaped him as he dragged his thumb down her cheekbone, light as a feather. Then he turned and stepped back out to the living space.

She watched through the doorway as he grabbed a bottle ofwater from the fridge, stopping back in the bathroom to run a towel under what she assumed was cold water before returning to her side.

“Drink.” He crackled open the bottle and held it out to her, laying the towel across the back of her neck as she obliged. The water chilled her from the inside, calming her angry, scratchy throat along the way.

Once the bottle was empty, he took a seat on the bed beside her. Dropping a hand to her thigh, he slid it up and down her leg soothingly.

“How can you be here, what about the horses?”

“Coop’s covering things for me, don’t worry.”

Maybe it was her illness fogging her brain, but she felt speechless as his response sank in. She couldn’t remember the last time someone put her before work or dropped everything so readily to show up. Not since her grandfather, she suspected.

Yet, here was Riley. Despite her attempts to keep things uncomplicated, he was here.

“Why did you come looking for me?” she asked.

“I was…” he started, rubbing his other hand along the mustache that was nearly back to its original glory. “I was worried you were avoiding me. After yesterday.”

She wanted to reach for him, to smooth out the pinch in his brow and assure him that she wasn’t regretting the path they started down yesterday. Even if it was complicated. But as she tried to sit up, dizziness seized her.

“Easy. Just lay back down.” Riley’s voice was back to the sense of urgency from when he arrived.

“Then come down here with me,” she complained, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes with the hopes that it would stop the room from spinning. It didn’t help. A groan escaped her. “I hate feeling dizzy.”

“I’ve got you,” he assured her.

---