Page 45 of Search for the Truth
Blake wasn’t a woman who liked taking any kind of orders but, as Lola had stated during their earlier, very quiet conversation. “If this good-looking man is here to worry about you and cook for you, don’t spit in the face ofthatblessing.”
So Blake listened to him. When he told her to shower, eat, stay warm, and now when he was on her again about the blanket she kept throwing off.
“Fine,” she said. “But give me some backstory on you. And make it something good that would make the rumor mill go wild if they heard it instead of me. Tell me about your life before Seven Roads.”
Liam settled back on the headboard, crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his long legs out. There was something slightly endearing about seeing that he wore socks with patterns on them. The pair he had on had little golf flags across them.
“You’re not the first person to get a little grouchy with me when I’m telling you what to do when you’re sick,” he started, humor in his voice. “My unit used to call me the Mother Hen.”
“Mother Hen?”
Blake felt the movement of his nod.
“I had a tendency to take care of everyone when they were sick. Even when they didn’t want it. I ‘made a fuss,’ but instead of being a pretty woman, I was treating grown men like little kids.” He chuckled. “They were equally grateful and annoyed. Hence the Mother Hen nickname.”
Blake heard the pretty comment but latched onto the overall point he’d made.
“Oh, so this little production isn’t rare, huh?” She motioned to the empty bowl between them on the desk. “And here I thought the sheriff was giving me special treatment.”
Liam played ball with the joke with startling speed.
“The food is the standard package, but the served-in-bed portion is definitely on the secret menu. Morning service has to be ordered separately.”
The heat that ran up Blake’s neck was fast. It pooled in her cheeks. She was glad, at least, that she could blame the flush on her fever.
“You might not talk a lot, but you sure know what to say when you do,” she returned. “That sweet-talking must get all the ladies.”
At this, Liam didn’t laugh. Blake peeked over at him, worried she had offended him somehow. He was staring right at her. There was a tilt to his head. Almost like a curiosity.
“I don’t think I’ve sweet-talked anyone since the beginning of my marriage. And even then, it wasn’t like this.”
Blake felt like a parrot the more she spoke with Liam.
“Like this?”
The world went slow for a bit. Liam kept her gaze, then it started searching. She knew he went from her eyes to her lips then to her brow. After that, she lost track. He was tracing her, maybe looking for something? But what?
He opened his mouth—to answer her, right?—but the next sound that came out was from the bedroom door.
“Excuse me.”
Blake nearly jumped. Lola was standing in the doorway, all apologetic with her smile. The little girl behind her leg was peeking out, all shy.
“I hate to interrupt, but Clem wants you,” the older woman said. She looked at Liam. “Our Blake here started a dangerous trend. When this one doesn’t want to sleep, the two of them watch TV in bed for a bit. We call it wind-down time.”
Blake was immediately defensive.
“Hey, not all of us can sleep like logs, like you and Bruce,” she said. “I personally think it’s smart of me and Clem to partner up on a different path sometimes. Isn’t that right, Clem?”
She might be a quiet four, but Clem was always vocal about their occasional late-night TV time.
“Yeah!” she exclaimed. Her hair bounced along with her little hop of excitement. After that she was nothing but speed. Liam barely had enough time to move the desk from the middle of the bed as Clem rocketed herself up and into space in the middle of them.
Lola’s smile fell. Concern, fast and deep, lined her frown.
“I can come back and get her in a little bit,” she offered.
Blake shook her head.
