Holding the glass to his lips, I encourage him to take a few slow sips before giving him the medicine. He grimaces when he swallows it, but he manages to paste a small smile on his face.
“Thanks, sunshine.”
“Of course, babe.” I set the glass down on the bedside table and feel his forehead. I need to make sure he’s not dangerously feverish. “Where’s your thermometer?”
“Bathroom vanity,” he says, eyes slipping closed.
I find it easily and scowl when it reads 102.1 “Shit. We need to keep you hydrated and cool. It’s not dangerously high, but I can’t imagine you feel good right now.”
Griffin shakes his head. Or at least he attempts to. “Nope. Feel like shit.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” A rush of something warm and pure rises in my chest when my accidental husband grins at me through his discomfort. Emotions shine out of his bloodshot, glassy eyes, emotions I’m not quite ready to name, and I’m not sure he is, either.
“You don’t have to do that, baby. I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself.” As if to illustrate my point, he swings his feet off the bed before rising on shaky legs.
“What are you doing?”
“Gotta pee, sunshine,” he says with a grin. “I’ll be fine.”
Except, he’s not. This feverish, muscular giant of a man must feel absolutely terrible, because he can barely stand. I quickly rush to his side and position myself under his arm, my own wrapped around his waist so I can act as a crutch. He tries to protest, but it quickly becomes apparent that he really does need my help and finally relents.
“Thanks, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I grin. “Probably pee your pants.”
That has him laughing and even more unsteady on his feet.
The morning goes by in a blur, and once I’ve made sure Griffin is hydrated and has eaten something, I help him get comfortable in bed. He snuggles in to watch a movie on his laptop while I sit next to him on mine. I’m not sure I’ll get a full day’s work done, but I can’t completely neglect it, either. I have deadlines to meet, and I’m putting the finishing touches on the baseball team’s website. They aren’t expecting a finished product for another week, but I’m excited to show them the final result before the deadline.
“That looks amazing,” Griffin says, looking over my shoulder. “Seriously, Mira, I knew you were talented, but that’s something else.”
I can feel the blush warming my cheeks and creeping up my chest. “Thank you.”
Everyone has been supportive of me and my business, but I’ve never sat down with someone and shown them what I’m working on. It makes me feel vulnerable in a way I can’t quite explain. Maybe it’s because this is my dream, my baby, and I care about Griffin’s opinions. I value what he thinks of me and what I do—more than I thought I would.
“Oh”—he grins—“I almost forgot. I heard from my contact at the University of Michigan, and they want to meet with you soon.”
Nerves do a tap dance in my stomach. I’ve been working on my pitch for the university’s hockey team, and I think I have some great ideas. I want to highlight their current program, as well as their alumni success stories. Griffin isn’t the only player who’s gone on to the NHL, AHL, or ECHL.
“Really?”
He nods, smiling brightly despite feeling sick. “Yep. I’ve been working on an endorsement deal with a company based in Michigan. They’re also in Ann Arbor, so I figure we can schedule our meetings for the same weekend.”
“That would be… That would be amazing, babe.” I lean over and press a kiss on his fevered forehead. “You’re amazing. How did I get so lucky?”
“I’m the lucky one.” He sighs contentedly, letting his head rest on my shoulder.
Outwardly, we settle back into a companionable quiet. Inwardly, I’m a riot of excitement, worry, hope, and affection that grows stronger with each passing day. Griffin Wright is everything I have ever wanted and more than I could have hoped for, and I’m falling hard for my accidental husband.
twenty-eight
GRIFFIN
“Wright,you’re on fire out there.” Coach Fry slaps me on the back, his face lit up with a pleased smile. “Whatever has you amped up tonight, keep that momentum going through the third period.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I say before downing some water and resting my sweaty head against the locker behind me. We only have five more minutes before we have to be back on the ice for the last period of the game, and I’m exhausted, but I’m also hyped. Because we’re at home, and my wife is in the family box with Isla and Lexi.My wife. My gorgeous, sexy-as-sin wife, who spent the last week fussing over my sick ass because shecares.
“Doing all right?” Maddox flops his ass down beside me, bumping me with his shoulder.
