As luck would have it, sleep found her and not more than ten minutes later, she was deep in dreamland.
* * *
It was the smell that woke her.
Slowly, Faith opened her eyes and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. The light fixture was an antique. She sat up on her elbows and looked around. Her head was fuzzy, her tongue was fuzzier, and she needed the bathroom. She spied a suitcase propped up on a dresser at about the same time she remembered exactly where she was.
And why.
With a groan, she pulled back the covers and slid from the bed. Her legs were still wobbly, but she managed to get to the bathroom on her own. Five minutes later, she walked down the small hall cautiously, following the scent of food like a starving animal on the hunt. Someone was in the apartment.
She spied Taco, sitting patiently by the breakfast nook, head trained toward the kitchenette. Faith took two more steps before she saw him. Gus. In her kitchen. He looked as intense as ever. In fact, the frown on his face was intimidating. She considered retreating, but her stomach rumbled, and she was too damn hungry to care what he thought of her.
Aware that she looked awful and thankful she’d at least pulled on sweats over her pajamas, Faith cleared her throat and froze when he turned away from the small stove.
“You’re up.” He’d changed into clean clothes, a simple black T-shirt and jeans, and his hair was wet as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. He didn’t smile — didn’t give any indication at all that he was happy to see her.
“Are you on your way to work?” Her voice was a little scratchy, and she cleared her throat, grabbing for a chair as a wave of exhaustion rushed over her.
“You need to sit.”
With no strength to argue, Faith sat on one of two chairs at the small table. A glass of juice was there, and her stomach rumbled — a good sign. She sat a bit straighter. What smelled so good?
Gus was at the stove again, stirring something in a pot.
“I can . . . you don’t have to stay here. I don’t want you to be late for work.”
He turned around, eyebrow raised. “I’m done for the day.”
Faith’s eyes flew to the window. “What do you mean . . .” Her voice trailed off when she spied the clock on the microwave. Ten p.m.
“You’ve been out all day and needed it. I moved you to your bedroom and Candy looked after your dog until I got back.”
“You moved me?” she croaked.
“You didn’t walk there on your own.”
“Shit,” she whispered, panicked. “I was supposed to start at The Dock.” With shoulders slumped, she stared down at her toes.
“I spoke to Hal and told him you were not well.”
Faith slowly lifted her head.
Gus pointed to the stock pot on the stove. “He sent his world-famous goulash.” Then he moved toward her door. “Eat it andkeep taking that cold and flu on the counter. Call Hal in the morning and let him know if you’re good enough to start.”
“I don’t have a cell.”Liar.She swallowed thickly and thought of the phone tucked away in her suitcase. A phone she couldn’t use. Not if she wanted to stay hidden.
“There’s a landline in the common area. You can use that.”
Gus gave a curt nod and walked past her to the door.
“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure if he heard.
“I’m across the hall if you need anything, but lady, don’t come knocking unless you’re at death’s door. I don’t have time to play nursemaid.”
He grabbed hold of the knob and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were too intense. A shiver ran over her; mouth dry, she reached for the glass of juice he’d placed on the table. She thought he would say something and held her breath, waiting. But after a few long moments, he opened the door and disappeared.
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she let it out in a long rush. “What a grump,” she muttered. “Didn’t ask you to look after me.”
