Our eyes meet, sending a lurch through me, then we both quickly look away. There’s no way I could handle his handsrubbingme right now. The thought of him using those fingers to massage oil onto the back my neck iswrong. Very, very wrong. So wrong it makes my cheeks burn at the thought of it.
Hunter clears his throat and rocks back on his heels, putting a little bit more space between us. Letting him touch me—especially when he’s causing alarming reactions from parts of my body that have no right to betray me like that—is a hard pass.
“No,” I repeat, a little less hysterically. “I can do that.”
He nods and hands me the bottle of peppermint oil. I unscrew the lid and pour a couple of drops onto my palm, then work it onto the base of my neck underneath my hairline. It makes my skin tingle, but the relief is almost instantaneous, taking the edge off the headache.
And my focus off Hunter. Thankfully.
Hunter retrieves the oil and says, “While you take the Tylenol, I’ll go make the compress.”
I push myself up to sitting so I can swallow the medicine. He turns his hand over to drop the pill into mine, the side of his pinkie brushing my palm. I suppress a shiver and grab the glass from the table, where he set it down. “Why are you willing to do all this? You could have told my mom no.”
He stands, towering over me, his expression inscrutable. “I don’t think anyone tells your mom no. And we’ve already been over this. I messed up before, and I’m sorry. I’m trying to be a better neighbor now.” Hunter turns his back on me and strides back to the kitchen.
I wince.A better neighbor.Merely doing his cohabiting duties. He’s definitely not having delusional thoughts aboutmyarm veins.
After a moment of silence, I hear water running. With a sigh, I lie back down and resume rubbing my temples with my fingertips, closing my eyes against the pain. But the soothing scent of the peppermint continues to work its magic, reducing the headache incrementally.
“This is clearly pretty serious.” Hunter’s voice makes me jump. He moved so silently I didn’t even realize he’d come back. My eyes fly open, and he’s crouching next to me again. “And it’s honestly not hard for me to work from home. I don’t have a ton to do yet.” Hunter places a damp washcloth that smells of peppermint over my forehead with a gentleness that makes a fragile longing unfurl within me. “Here you go. Just the way your mom instructed.”
“Hunter?” I murmur.
“Yeah?” His voice is a little hoarse.
My eyes are shut again because the peppermint on the washcloth would make them sting. But I can sense him still beside me. “Thank you.”
There’s a long silence. Then, “No problem. Hope this helps you feel better.”
“Not only for helping me. For those, too.” I blindly point in the direction of the table. “I’m sorry for being so rude last night. Maybe later today, you can show me your ideas.”
Another pause before he clears his throat and says, “Don’t worry about it.” I’m not sure if he means my rudeness or looking at his ideas, but before I can ask, he continues. “If you’re okay for a little bit, I might go for a quick run.”
“Yes,” I reply immediately. “Go. I’ll try to get some more sleep.”
“Okay. I’ll only do a few miles so I can get right back.”
The concern in his voice sends a flutter through my stomach—either he does care about me a teeny, tiny bit, orhe’sreallyscared of my mom. “I’m okay right now. Go for your normal run.”
“What in the name of all that’s holy is going on down here?” Lou’s disgruntled, half-asleep grumble takes me off guard since I can’t see with the cold compress still on my forehead. “Can someone explain why you’re both up before six and having a full-on discussion in the living room?”
“Well, if you’d paid attention to what we were saying—or if you happened to take a look at the couch—you might have realized Olivia is sick.” I can only imagine the look Hunter must be giving his cousin.
“No,” Lou gasps. “How bad is it? Does she have a fever? How’s her heart rate?”
“She’sright here,” I say, “and she’s fine. Just a little sore throat.” I take off the washcloth so I can see. “It’s under control,” I add.
Lou is wearing shorts and a tank top, her teal-blue-tipped hair in a ponytail, and she’s staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. I don’t blame her for looking like she’s seen a ghost; she was the one who found me a year ago and had to call the ambulance.
“It’s not like last time. And if I get any worse, I’ll call the doctor.”
“I promised her mom I’d work from home to keep an eye on her today,” Hunter adds.
Lou’s eyes widen even further.
“Which isnotnecessary,” I grouse.
“Yes, it is,” Lou insists. “Someone needs to be here—just in case. If you don’t want Hunter, I can stay instead.”
