Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
A blast of lightning lit the world up, followed by a clap of thunder. Rain pelted down. Shit. She didn’t have enough food to last more than a few days, other than several muffins in a tin that he was sure had been meant for him. They were slightly stale now, though.
“Hey,” a voice croaked from behind him.
Turning, he took her in. She looked like absolute shit. Her nose was red from blowing it too often. Her skin was pale except for two spots of color on each cheek. Glassy green eyes met his. Stared at him.
“Are you wanting your muffins?” she asked. “They might be a bit old. I’ll make you a new batch.”
He barely refrained from snapping at her that he could care less about the muffins. She was dressed in the same Cookie Monster robe, her bare feet were poking out the bottom.
His dick pressed against his jeans at the thought of what was underneath her robe. Shit. He had problems.
“Where’re your socks?” he snapped.
Crap. Take a breath. It’s not her fault you’re turned on.
She glanced down at her feet as though searching for the elusive socks. “I think they’re in my drawers. I was gonna put my slippers on.”
“You should go do that.”
She nodded, then winced.
“Headache?” he asked her.
“Yeah.”
“You taken any painkillers? What about cold medicine?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
He had plenty of medicine at his place. He peered out the window. Shit, it was getting really bad out there.
“You got a generator?”
She blinked, staring at him in surprise. “Ah, yeah, of course. You think the power will go out?” The wind howled, and she bit her lip. “It’s really picking up out there. I’ll be fine, though. I’ve survived worse.”
“How old is your generator?” he asked suspiciously, thinking about her rusty old truck and half-empty woodshed.
“I don’t know. Old, I guess.”
“When was it last serviced?”
“Um.”
Fucking hell. She definitely needed a keeper. And there was no way he was leaving her here alone.
Like you’d been going to, anyway.
No, he wouldn’t have left her while she was ill. But he’d hoped they could stay here in her cabin. Instead, they were going to have to go to his place. He eyed her for a moment, wondering how much of a fuss she was going to put up.
“We’re going to my house.”
“Oh, well, thanks for helping me. And for bringing in all that wood. That’s a huge relief.”
“No, we’re going. You’re coming with me.”
“To your house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked, swaying in place. Fuck.
He moved over to her. Wrapping an arm around her, he led her over to the sofa. “Because there’s no food in your kitchen. Your generator is old and hasn’t been serviced in God knows how long, and you have no cold medicine.”
“Oh. I don’t want to be a nuisance, though.”
“You’re not a nuisance,” he muttered.
“But won’t I interrupt you? What about your work? Do you work?”
“I work for myself. It’s fine.”
He waited for more, but she didn’t say anything else.
All right then.
He tucked a blanket around her legs. “I’m going to pack you a bag. What do you need?”
She yawned, her eyes drooping. “I’ll be all right here.” She sneezed.
Reaching over, he grabbed some tissues for her. “You’re not staying here.”
“I’m soooo sick,” she moaned, then she blew her nose.
Sympathy filled him. “I know you are, baby. I’m going to pack you some clothes. I’ll get you some slippers and something to wear, all right?”
“Okie dokie.”
He opened up the first door he found, but it led into a room with a double bed that didn’t feel like it was lived in. Everything looked pristine, preserved. When he opened the closet, it was filled with clothes that smelled slightly musty. None of it looked like anything Lucie would wear. Whose stuff was this?
Shaking his head, he left the room then walked down to the only other door besides the one leading to the bathroom.
This bedroom screamed Lucie. The walls were a pale pink. There were fairy lights looped around the wrought iron headboard of the single bed that looked hellishly uncomfortable. A Cookie Monster clock sat on the bedside table. Jewelry and headbands lay scattered over the top of the dresser.
Sticking out from under the bed was a pair of Cookie Monster slippers. Grabbing them, he put them on top of the bed. Then he added a set of pale pink flannel pajamas with donuts all over them. He grabbed a handful of panties and put them on the bed. Probably more than she needed, but it was better safe than sorry.
He gathered up what he could find before he found a battered suitcase under the bed. He dumped everything in, he didn’t have time to fold it all neatly, and he wanted to get her back to his place and into bed.
The spare bed. Not his bed.
Going into the bathroom, he grabbed her toiletries and a box of tampons out of the drawer. Just in case. Then he moved into the living room to find her nearly asleep on the sofa.