She didn’t want her mom to see her in pain, and dinner sounded like a good idea. Her stomach rumbled. She’d only had that latte earlier in the day, and her body required fuel to repair itself. “That’s a good idea.” Her teeth started to chatter.
Chapter Sixteen
Huck settled Aeneas down as the microwave went to work on the pot pies he’d purchased the day before. The hot food filled the kitchen with a delicious aroma. “Are your boots off?” he called to the great room, where he already had a fire going.
“Yes.” Laurel’s hair was a curly mass down her back, and in the firelight, the natural red highlights in the brown caught the glow of the flames.
He hadn’t liked seeing her lips so blue and her body so small in the angry storm. He poured two glasses of warm bourbon and crossed to the sofa, where she sat wiggling her toes in front of the fire. “Drink this.”
She looked up, her blue and green eyes bright in her pale face. “You’re a little bossy, Captain.”
“I’m a lot bossy, and I told you to call me Huck.” He sat on his coffee table and reached for her foot, drawing off the sock. Her toes were a healthy shade of pink. He secured them in one hand, struck by how cold they still were. With the fire crackling behind him and the storm raging outside, a sense of intimacy wound through the room. He ignored it. He’d do this for any colleague. “Wriggle them.”
Amusement tilted her lips, but she did as he’d ordered while simultaneously sipping her drink.
He lightly pinched each one. “Do you feel this?”
“I do and I do not like it. Stop pinching me.” She tipped back her head and drank the entire glass. “Oh, that’s warm. So warm and nice.”
He secured her other foot and checked out the toes. “You’re doing all right. No permanent damage and I don’t see frostbite. Your boots worked better than I expected.” He then took her hands. They were small and in proportion with the rest of her, but her fingers were long and her nails short. “Do you feel this?” He pressed against each of her fingers, noting how fragile her bones were.
“Yes.” She wiggled both hands.
The skin appeared healthy and unburned.
He released her and sat back to study her face. “Your skin is burned, and your lips chapped. I’ll get you some lotion that will help.” He handed his drink to her.
She accepted it, swirling the amber liquid in the crystal glass. “I know it was your job, but thank you for coming out to get us and the body.”
He should find the lotion for her. Hurry away from her. There was something undeniably delicate about this brilliant woman, and she drew him in a way that would be a disaster for them both. Yet he set a knuckle beneath her chin and lifted it anyway. Those dual-colored eyes knocked him back as usual. “I’d come and get you even if it wasn’t my job.”
Surprise lit her eyes.
He was such a jackass. “I’ll get you the lotion.” Releasing her chin, he began to stand, noting that her shoulders were still shivering. “Keep this blanket on you.” He tucked the heavy material across her lap. “Food will also help.” The last thing he needed was to get involved with an FBI agent, especially one who tried so hard to hide her soft underbelly. While he might not be a genius like Laurel, he’d always been able to read people, and he sensed that this woman’s brain was constantly fighting her heart. He wasn’t the guy to ease her struggle when he had so many of his own.
She settled back on the worn cushions and drank his bourbon.
He moved to the kitchen and took the pot pies out of the microwave before heading into the lone bathroom for lotion. Where had he put that crap? Finally finding the tube at the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, he returned to find Laurel with her head resting against the sofa and her eyes closed, breathing softly. “Laurel?”
The woman didn’t stir.
He sighed and dug her cell phone out of the pocket of her coat, which she’d left hanging by the door. Interesting. She didn’t have it password protected. Must be a personal phone and not her FBI-issued one. He scrolled through and pressed DIAL for “mom.”
“Hi, Honey. What’s up?” came a woman’s voice.
He cleared his throat. “Um, hi. This is Fish and Wildlife Captain Huck Rivers. Laurel is fine, but she got a little cold out investigating today, and she’s sleeping on my sofa.” This was a new one on him. He’d never checked in with anyone’s mother before. “I, ah, can wake her and bring her home. Or just bring her asleep, actually.” Her body had shut down to heal and warm itself, and it’d be easier not to awaken her. “Or I can let her sleep here, but I wanted to let you know where she is and get direction from you.”
Laurel’s mom was silent for several moments. “I know where you are. If you hurt my girl, I’ll come for you.”
Okay. That was weird. Wasn’t the woman some sort of Zen-tea guru? “Got it,” he said. He grimaced.
“You’re lucky that Laurel texted me when she arrived at your house an hour ago. She wasn’t sure when she’d make it home,” Deidre said.
Of course. Huck shook his head. His father had never worried much about him, so he’d never had to check in with anybody. It made sense that Laurel had already texted. “In that case, I’ll let her sleep. Thank you.”
“Have her call me first thing in the morning. If I don’t hear from her by eight, I’m calling the sheriff.” The woman hung up.
Huck stared at the phone in his hand. Right. He laid it on the sofa table next to Laurel and nearly jumped out of his socks when his phone buzzed from his back pocket. What the hell was wrong with him? He lifted it to his ear and dropped into the chair by the fireplace, watching the sleeping woman. “Rivers.”
