Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Dax let out a displeased hum but didn’t argue. “Fine. Take a bath, change into sweats, and go relax and distract yourself with a book.”
I blinked. “It’s freaky how you have my exact plan in mind.”
Just then, his phone rang. Leaving him to take his call in private, I dumped my satchel in my office before going upstairs. In the en suite bathroom, I took a hot bath. The steam helped, making my throat hurt less and my nose clear a little.
Afterwards, clad in comfy sweats, I retreated to my office and settled in my plush, upholstered chair with a brand-new paperback that I’d recently ordered online. I’d originally meant to get started on it later tonight. I loved the author—her books always drew me in.
Losing myself in the story proved to be a fabulous distraction from how bad I felt, though I wasn’t impressed by how often a cough or sneeze dragged me out of a scene. At one point, Dax entered the room with a mug and a bottle of water—both of which he set down on the small table beside my chair.
I looked at the steaming cup. “What’s this?”
“Hot water with honey and lemon. It’ll help soothe your throat. My mother swears by it.”
I stared at him as warmth trickled into my chest. I hadn’t expected him to do, well, anything other than maybe avoid me until I was better. It wasn’t as if he was an attentive person, or as if he’d feel in any way obliged to baby me. He’d only come bearing fluids, sure, but it wasn’t something he’d have done a few weeks ago.
I was about to thank him, but then his gaze dropped to my paperback and his lips quirked. I frowned. “What?”
He looked at me. “You read books by Nina Bowen?”
“Yes, she writes horror. She’s also the shit. You’ve heard of her? Oh, wait, your company publishes her books. I forgot about that.”
She’d once self-published her novels, but that had changed over the years for some … My thoughts trailed off when I noticed his mouth twitch again. There was a weird glint in his eyes. Like he knew something I didn’t. And he was clearly amused by that.
I felt my brow pucker again. “What? What’s funny?”
He gave a slow shake of the head. “Nothing at all.”
Not whatsoever convinced, nor in the least bit impressed that he appeared to be finding amusement at my expense, I decided to mess with him. Making an effort to look pitiful, I asked, “Will you read to me?”
His humor began to slip away. “No.”
“But it’s a husband-y thing to do.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s not nice.”
“Neither am I.” He pointed at the mug he’d brought me. “Drink that. All of it.” He dipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks and dug out a box of the painkillers I’d been using. “And take more of those when you next need them,” he bossed.
I took the box with a sniffle. “Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired, but I won’t complain.”
“You just did.” With that, he turned and headed for the door.
“Dax?” I waited until he met my gaze before saying, “Thank you.”
He inclined his head.
“You can read to me another time.”
Sighing, he preceded to leave the room. “Let that dream die, Addison, because it won’t happen.”
Alone again, I snickered to myself and then delved back into my book.
Chapter Nineteen
Thanks to my cough, I didn’t have the best night’s sleep. By the time the next morning rolled around, my body ached like hell, I was running a fever, and my nose was leaking like a tap.
Yeah, I wasn’t going to work today.
Flat on my back in bed, I let my head loll to the side. Dax lay squarely in his “spot” on the large mattress, his eyes closed, his breathing even.
Given how much I’d coughed during the night, I was surprised he hadn’t gone to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms at one point. I’d offered to do it so that he could have an interrupted sleep, but he’d glared at me like I’d suggested removing my rings.
“You sleep in this bed. Our bed. No other,” he’d then stated.
Though I’d told him it wouldn’t be a big deal for me to spend one night in another room, he’d insisted I sleep beside him. Personally, I failed to see why he’d be so affected by my not being here. It wasn’t as if my absence would be missed, given we slept on separate sides of the mattress and didn’t cuddle. Though—note to self—I should really burrow into him one time just to freak him out for the fun factor.
A tickle scratched at my throat, and there was no holding back the cough. A wheezy cough that went on and on and on, making my chest and throat burn. I weakly sat upright, nabbed my glass from the nightstand, and took gentle swigs of my water, letting the cold liquid soothe the burn.