Her nose crinkles. “I do not!”
“You sure as hell do,” I say, turning and pulling her close. “It’s cute though. Like the sound a baby lawn mower would make.”
“Oh!” She shoves my arm lightly as she turns over, and I take the opportunity to tug her in close again, my nose grazing the skin of her neck and inhaling the scent of her soap that still clings to her after a late shower last night. She’s in a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top—a very similar outfit to the one she wore underneath her sweats and overalls.
Except now that she’s feeling better—the right amount of color in her cheeks and a little bit of energy in her limbs—they look a lot different to me. I can feel each of her curves against me, the warmth of her body as she presses herself against me.
“Yeah, well, you sound like a full-grown tractor trailer,”she grumbles, but I hardly hear her over the feel of her hip underneath my palm.
“Honk, honk,” I joke, leaving a small kiss at the base of her neck.
And of course, her phone choosesthatmoment to ding. Her friends have been checking up on her constantly, texting and calling to make sure she has everything she needs even though she repeatedly tells them that I’ve been taking care of her.
And I kind of love that she’s not afraid to name me as Caretaker of the Sick.
She props herself up on her elbow to grab it from the nightstand next to her, and I take the opportunity to sit up against the headboard. My mind was getting a little carried away, anyway, having her pressed against me and suddenly feeling so much better, but now is not the time to be making moves on her. Even if she's healthy now, there’s no saying what sort of time she needs to feel likeherselfagain.
Especially considering there’s a good chance she’s not just recovering from a cold, but burnout too.
She snorts as she checks her messages. “Izzy is very glad to know I’m feeling better, but she would really like to know whether she can tell people we’re having a party tonight.”
“What?” I ask, wondering what sort of information I’m missing to make this all make sense.
Eve rolls onto her back, her head pressing up against my side as she holds her phone above her face. “The Last Sunflower. We have a party every year at the end of the season. Easy way to say thank you to all of the employees, hand out bonuses, get a little drunk and silly and send everyone home feeling like they had a good season.” She texts Izzy back rapidly. “I’m going to tell her I might not be up for it but they’re welcome to go on without me.” Shegives me a quick grin. “Maybe I’ll send you out to give everyone their bonuses.”
“Whatever you need me to do, Evie,” I say as she hits send and drops her phone down to the bed. She sits up, grabbing a tissue from the TV tray next to her and blowing her nose.
When she’s done, she takes a deep breath in through her nose. “Wow.”
“Feeling good?”
She blinks, repeating her breath. “I’m not congested at all. I can breathe. I can talk. I’m not dribbling from anywhere.” She lets out a huff of a laugh. “Nurse Blackwell, you did a good job.”
I give as much of a bow as I can, all tangled up in her sheets. “It was an honor and a privilege.”
“Do you still feel okay?”
I nod, throwing my arms above my head to stretch and not at all oblivious to the way her eyes dip and snag around my waistband. “Guess a little bit of preventative medicine did the trick. Thank god, because something tells me I’m way better at nursing than you.”
“Oh please, I would nurse the fuck out of you.”
I snort. “Is that a promise?” I sniffle, clearing my throat overdramatically. “Because I’m really, you know, not feeling so great after all.”
She rolls her eyes, sitting up and stretching just like I did. Her shorts are bunched up around her hips and her shirt rises, exposing that perfect stomach.
Shamelessly, I stare. She’s been a puddle of mucus and blankets over the past few days, and seeing the brightness return to her has all sorts of inappropriate thoughts running through my mind. My eyes are glued to the curve of her waist, the way her back arches to her ass. Her hair is tied upon her head, but little tendrils escape around her face as she turns it to the ceiling. She pushes her chest out as she stretches, and I want nothing more than to lift her shirt and feel her skin against my palms.
I look away, adjusting myself so she can’t see what she does to me.
Keep it together, Ryder.
She checks her phone as she stands, rolling out her neck and stretching each arm across her body. She laughs as she locks the phone and tosses it back on her bed. “Party is tonight. Izzy is taking care of all the setup, so people might be running in and out today. And she says she’s stopping by beforehand to make sure I’m not faking.” She snorts. “Better practice my sniffle.”
“Why would youpretendto be sick for your own party?”
She sighs, sitting down on the bed again. “Because I’m tired. I just got over being sick and if I’m being totally honest, what I’m looking forward to most is showering and getting right back in bed.”
While I trust that she’s doing her best to take care of herself, I have to wonder whether this is the sickness talking or her burnout. If Izzy has already threatened to drag her to the party, it doesn’t seem all that unlikely that perhaps she's been caught faking before.
