Page 60 of Anything for You
“Glad you could shower. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were going to or I could’ve helped.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I could’ve done something.”
I couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like he was blushing under his dark beard. If I felt any less like something that’d climbed out of a dumpster, I would’ve been thrilled by all the possible insinuations. As it was, I only smiled.
“Thank you. I feel a little better, maybe, but I think I want to go right back to sleep.”
He nodded, crossing his thick arms. “Understandable. Do you think you could get something down? Toast maybe? Or I can warm up some soup I made earlier. I worry that at this point, you’re running on empty and your body won’t be happy about continuing to take meds.”
After seeing it was nearly noon, I conceded. When he walked in with a tray and set it down on my lap, the tears came.
“No, no, Dove. Don’t cry,” he said, cupping my face with one of his big, lovely hands and wiping a tear with the pad of his thumb.
“You probably shouldn’t touch me if I have the flu or strep or… anything. You’re honestly doomed at this point.” I sniffled.
His smile was small, but so pleased, I didn’t know what’d made him so happy.
“Why is that something to smile about?” I asked, grumpy from sickness, exhaustion, hunger, and the thought that this man’s good deed of taking care of me would be paid back with illness.
“Worst case scenario, I get sick. I can handle that. I know it’s miserable, but it’ll be okay if I do. I don’t have much of a day job and Pedro and Connor can handle the farm.”
He took the spoon sitting on a neatly folded napkin and set it in the bowl of steaming soup. On a small side plate sat a slice of bread I’d bet money he’d made from scratch slathered with butter, and a small glass of water stood next to something purple.
“That’s nonsense. I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t be exposing yourself to me,” I said, tempted to cross my arms with a huff except it sounded hard and the soup actually smelled appetizing. Also,oops, even I heard that double entendre.
But he didn’t seem fazed because he nudged the spoon toward me.
I leaned over the tray and took a bite.Heaven.Of course it tasted great. Salty and smooth, somehow. Noodles, chicken, and maybe a carrot in that spoonful, and it was all wonderful. Granted, I already felt like I didn’t want to continue, but that was the illness talking.
“Hey, take some more and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
I stared him down for a minute, but I couldn’t resist the need to know. I took another bite, then a big chomp of bread, and raised my brows.
“Good girl,” he said with a chuckle.
I choked on the bread, coughing with aching ribs as I swallowed. He had no idea… just none whatsoever. And I would not address the matter right now.
But at some point? Yes.
“I’m here because I want to be, Dove. I know I don’t have to.” His melting dark honey gaze bore into mine. “You take care of everyone all the time. At work, in your personal life, and even in your friendships. But who takes care of you?”
Who takes care of you?It was a ludicrous question and one I had a clear answer to. “No one needs to take care of me. I like taking care of other people.”
“And I believe you. But right now, the answer to that question is me.”
With that, he changed the subject, talking through what I might be able to eat later, if I had preferences, and when I’d need more meds. I had the flu and it was simply a matter of time before I’d feel better.
I was in my body, but not. Sick, sore, but not lonely. I was hurting and kind of miserable, but I had this warm, serene feeling couching my rough edges right now.
As I drifted off to sleep, the answer to why I wasn’t worried or sad or missing the comfort of someone with me and watching over me like I’d only ever had with Nan played through my mind.
The answer to that question is him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Dove
It’d been years since I’d been this sick.
It’d also been a long time since someone had taken care of me. My parents really never had. It wasn’t the way they did things. I’d go back to our cabin and sweat out a fever. Usually, the camp doctor would bring ibuprofen or whatever. I thought I got antibiotics once, but I was seven or eight, so I didn’t know for sure.
