He took her hands in his, their warmth and solid grip a stark contrast to her own sweaty, wet, pathetic ones. “Annie,” he said, looking at her in that intense way of his. “Just look at me.”
That wasn’t hard.
As close as they were, she couldn’t help but notice things she’d missed before. Like the tiny scar just above his eyebrow—when had that happened? There was a little bit of stubble on his neck, like he’d missed it when shaving. And he smelled so good! Clean and crisp, like fresh laundry dried in sunshine. Amber flecks in his eyes seemed to shimmer with a depth she hadn’t noticed until now.
What was it about eye contact that was so intimate? She didn’t know.
On the upside, every time they hit a bump, they ended up closer and closer together, until their shoulders and thighs were touching. Downside: As captivating as it was to be in such close proximity to Mr. Wonderful, her stomach had other ideas. Dizziness came first, a sudden chill followed by a hot flush washing over her, then a queasy, unsettled sensation—all warning signs from her body that something wasn’t quite right.Not now!she thought, willing herself to overcome her wooziness.Go away!she pleaded with her nausea. She squeezed her eyes closed, but that only made it worse. The churning in her stomach had begun in earnest. Motion sickness was winning the battle. She gripped her elbows, hugging herself to stifle what she knew was coming.
“Are you okay?” Gus asked.
“I’m not okay.”
“You don’t look well.” His eyes stayed on her face. “You look really pale.”
A swell of nausea rose up. “I need to get off this bus. Now.” She yanked on the cord and saw the driver glance in the rearview mirror, let out a dramatically long-suffering sigh, and pull the bus over. She practically pushed Gus off the bench to get to the aisle and run down to the open door. She jumped off the steps and rushed over to the side of the road, sat down, and put her head between her knees.Please God,please God,please God,helpme not throw up in front of Gus.
A moment later, Gus put a hand on her back. “We’re goingto breathe together, and you’re going to start to feel better.” In a quiet voice, he counted five counts to breathe in, and then back out for four. Then again, and then again. They breathed in together and out together, in sync, as she slowly started to recover. He seemed to sense that she was too nauseated to speak because he didn’t say anything.
She tried to stand up, which was foolish because she was still woozy.
“Hold tight for a while longer,” he said, his hand lightly brushing over her prayer cap. “Your color’s just starting to pink up.”
Really? She felt like she’d gone from green to blushing furiously. “I’m sorry,” she said, closing her eyes.
He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it always this bad?”
She sucked in a tight breath and said, “Worse.”
“We barely made it down the road.”
Yes, she was aware of that.
He rubbed her back in gentle circles, and she felt the tight knot in her stomach gradually loosen as the nausea subsided. “Annie, when did you first know about this?”
With those horrible symptoms bearable now, she pushed her cap strings behind her shoulders and straightened her back to answer him. “When I was just a little girl, our family took a bus ride to visit relatives in Ohio one summer, and I remember feeling sick all the way there and all the way back. My parents said never again.”
“What about cars?”
“Same thing, though I hadn’t been in a car in a very long time. Like, years. With a dairy farm, there’s never much of an opportunity to go anywhere.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was heartbreakingly soft.
“Mainly,” she said, “because I have a mortal fear of embarrassment.”
He gave that some consideration. “What if I told you something embarrassing about myself?”
“Doubtful you could top this,” she said with an eye roll.
“Ah, you have no idea. I’ve got a treasure trove of embarrassing stories.” He paused, feigning deep thought. “It’s just a matter of picking the right one.”
Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, got it,” he said then. “Have I told you about my first encounter with firefighters?”
“Yes. You were a volunteer firefighter.”
“No, that’s how I became involved with the firehouse. This predates that by a long shot.”
