“Yeah, I can stay.”
“Perfect,” she said. When she released his hand so that she could continue eating, Ty went to get his noodle bowl. As he rejoined Winnie and her cats in the living room, he felt like his life finally held some purpose, because he’d been able to help Winnie in a world where she didn’t have anyone but him.
And he wanted to be that man for her more than anything, and gratitude filled his heart that he had the time and means to be sitting with Winnie, in her house, in the middle of the day, eating her favorite Chinese food.
12
Winnie slept on and off all afternoon, her belly full of delicious Chinese food and her heart filled with happiness that Ty had shown up in her hour of need. At one point when she’d awakened, she’d found him stretched out on her couch, fast asleep.
He’d breathed in and out, soft and steady, and he hadn’t moved at all though she’d gotten up, gone down the hall to the bathroom, and returned.
She lay cradled in the beanbag now, her kitties warm along her side, and the sound of Ty humming in the kitchen. Everything about it felt domestic and homey and absolutely wonderful.
When they’d both been awake earlier, he’d opened up the front window and the back screen door and let the Panhandle wind air the house out. He’d done her dishes and taken out her trash and fed her cats—which he was actually doing for the second time that day right now.
“Come on, guys,” he called, and Winnie opened her eyes. The scraping of the cats’ feeding bowl on the linoleum in the other roomfilled the house, and both cats catapulted off the beanbag and ran toward the kitchen. She heard his low voice murmuring to them, and it caused a smile to fill her face.
He came around the corner, wiping his hand on one of her dish towels. “Do you need to eat?” he asked.
Winnie shook her head. “I want to get something after class, like you suggested.”
“All right,” he said.
“Just something fast on the way home,” she said. “And then you can tuck me in bed and go home.”
“I’m fine for whatever you need me for, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, but you have to go to work tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Out at Lone Star. I can come back in the afternoon.”
“I’ve called out again for tomorrow,” she said. “I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning, so if I have a virus, hopefully I can get some antibiotics.”
“What about the wedding?” he asked.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not going to miss the wedding.”
A frown settled over his expression, drawing down his mouth and making that tight V appear between his eyes. “I don’t want to go to the wedding anyway. This would be a great excuse to miss it.”
“Because I’m sick?” Winnie asked.
“Yeah. Why not?” Ty threw her a look and went back into the kitchen. She heard the water run in the sink, and then he called, “Can I have one of these bottles of water?”
“Of course,” she called back.
“Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m good.” Her throat felt scratchy and dry, but the cold medicine she’d taken a few hours ago had definitely done its job. She didn’t feel nearly as stuffed up, and if she could stay hydrated and rested, she knew she’d make a full recovery.
Ty came back into the living room, and it did seem a little bitstrange to see him walking around her house in his socked feet. He’d taken off his cowboy boots at some point and left them by the front door.
“Is there room for me on that?” he asked, nodding to her left side.
Winnie scooted over, pure anticipation dancing through her at the thought of cuddling with Ty on the squishy beanbag. It was like swinging in a hammock with a person, and she wouldn’t be able to hold her body up away from his. He sank onto the other half of it, and he turned toward her, wrapping her easily in his arms.
As he drew her into his chest, she pulled the blanket up and over his shoulder and sighed as she sank into his warmth. She breathed in the scent of his shirt and his skin, getting notes of cedar and sunshine and something spicy that was probably labeledwaterfallin his cologne.
“You’re probably going to get sick,” she whispered. “You should’ve kept your distance.”
