“What the—” He looks around the room. “What the fuck?”
He pushes himself upright sluggishly, his eyes fixed on me.
I hurry to grab the phone and shut off the damn alarm. “Sorry, you weren’t downstairs. I thought something was wrong. I wanted to check on you.”
Sawyer rubs his eyes, and it’s now I see the thin sheen of sweat on his normally tan skin. Dark bruises cradle his eyes. “I’m getting up.” He rubs a hand over his face and tries to stand but immediately sinks back onto the bed. “Or not.”
“Sit.” I place the back of my hand on his forehead then rip it away. “Yeah, no offense, but you’re burning up and you look like shit.” A chorus of coughs is his reply.
I grab the water on his nightstand and hand it to him. He takes it gratefully. He has a sip then puts it down. “Summer cold. I’ll be fine. Just let me shower and I’ll be downstairs.”
My gaze flicks down his chest.
Stop looking.
He tries to get up again, and I push him back down.
“Yeah, you’re not doing that.” I ignore his scowl and how cute it might be. He’s not doing shit today. I place my palm on his forehead, smiling at the sigh that leaves his lips. “My hands are always cold. Feels good, huh?” He grins, nodding. Okay, someone’s delirious.
Sawyer smiles gratefully at me. “Why don’t you come back Monday?”
A thought pops into my head, and I hate how fast it appears. What’s worse is that I want to, not because of the elephant, but because I don’t like the idea that he’ll be all alone like this. “Let me stay.”
“I can’t afford another day. I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t care about the money today. You look awful.”
Sawyer shakes his head weakly. “No, I can’t ask you to do that.” He sighs. “I’m also super behind. I need to get up and at least do some planning or website work if I can’t handle food.”
“No, you’re not.”
He scowls.
“Your bakery won’t crumble if you can’t make crumbles.”
His expression twitches. “Was that a dessert joke?”
I nod. “I have a horrible sense of humor.”
“No kidding.” Sawyer sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples.
My eyes are idiots. Andeverywhere.
They wander over his defined shoulders and strong arms. With how much he puts them to work downstairs, it’s no wonder he’s built like this.
Not that it matters. It doesn’t.
Stop checking him out. I don’t even like him. Like at all.
I just so happen to have perfect vision, and Sawyer, feverish or not, is extremely attractive. That’s it. I catch my gaze slipping lower, down the hard lines of his stomach, then immediately snap them away. Heat crawls up my neck. The impression in his boxers makes me swallow. They aren’t hiding a thing.
“Why are you staring at my crotch?”
“I’m not!”
“Why’s your voice so high?”
“It’s not.” I cough. “It’s not.”
