Page 67 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“W—what?” Dirty images I have no business thinking flash like a neon sign in my mind sayingyes,yes, andyes, please, sir.
“You’ve been sick for days, and your medicine wasn’t working. I had to bring a doctor in from Nashville when I realized none of the ones around here made house calls.”
He…he brought in a doctor all the way from Nashville because I have the freaking flu?
“Are you out of your mind? It’s the flu, Thane, not life or death.”
“Actually, smart ass, it’s the flu, strep, and now pneumonia. How long have you been sick without going to the doctor?”
“I…” Hmm. I was sure it was allergies, but the day after our incident on the swing, I knew I was coming down with something. A day after that, I didn’t get out of bed. And it was another day before I went to the witchy woman at the clinic. “I went to the doctor when I felt sick enough. That still doesn’t answer why you’re in my room.”
“You needed someone to take care of you, so I took care of you.” He slowly lowers his arms and puts an inch of space between us. One. Inch.
“You took care of me?”
“That’s what I said.”
Thane is grumpy when he gets woken up by a screaming woman in the middle of the…
“What time is it?”
He leans over to my nightstand and taps his phone to wake it up. “Six in the morning.”
“I slept through the night?”
A deep line forms between his brows. “Not a night, sweetheart. You’ve been sleeping pretty much straight through for three days, but the doctor said some of the new meds might make you drowsy.”
“So, you’ve been…” I glance aroundmyroom again, which suddenly feels a lot likeours. His clothes are neatly folded on a chair in the corner.
My head snaps to his as he takes one small step back. He’s standing before me in low-hanging joggers that cling to his powerful thighs.
“Sit down before you fall.” At his demand, I sink to my knees, and his nostrils flare.
In front of the closet is a card table and folding chair with his laptop and papers set on top. A small suitcase sits by the door, and I have a sneaking suspicion that if I walk into my bathroom right now, I’ll find his toothbrush next to mine.
“I’ve been taking care of you,” he repeats. “Your body was resistant to the antibiotics, and they weren’t bringing down your fever, which is why you were…delirious, and why the second doctor put you on something new.”
I fiddle with the hem of his T-shirt. “And this?” I point to the softest cotton I’ve ever worn.
His shoulders slump, and then he drops onto the bed beside me. It’s so…normal. Weird, since we haven’t known each other long. But normal just the same.
“Your fever made you disgustingly sweaty.”
Awesome. Exactly what a girl wants to hear.
“So, you…changed my clothes?”
He sighs, and then nods. “I didn’t look, but yes, I put clean clothes on you every day.”
“How did you manage that if you didn’t look at me?” Heat pools in my core, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“I’ve been putting you in my shirts because they’re easier to get on you and then remove the old one. You remained covered at all times.”
Probably the same way I walk through my front door, unhook my bra, and pull it out the arm of my shirt.
“You really didn’t check me out? At all?”
He raises a brow in my direction. “That would be highly inappropriate, not to mention wrong. I took care of you because you’re my girlfriend and you needed me. And…” He stares at something across the room. “I liked being needed. But I also told you that when I do undress you, when the time is right, you’ll be begging me to do so, not half unconscious from fever.”
