smile. “Are you a Carolina Girl?”
I wobble my head and shrug my shoulder. “Kinda.”
He creases his eyebrows and curls his lips into a sideways sexy grin, “Kinda?”
“Born in South Carolina but raised in Georgia.”
“Well, then. You’re a Carolina Girl. Arms up,” he says very matter of fact.
Arms up . Ah, the last time I heard him say that it was to undress me. Damn whatever is making me feel so sick .
“Were you a cheerleader?” he asks.
That surprises me. Where did that come from ? “Yes. How’d you know?”
“You have those shorts cheerleaders wear. The ones that barely cover their asses,” he chuckles.
I snicker.
He holds my black Soffe shorts out, “Stand up and step into these when you do.”
I clutch his arms for balance as I stand up to step into them. Any other day there is no way in hell I’d be caught in public in this outfit he’s picked for me. But today I’m way too tired to really care. After both of my feet are in, he pulls them up to my waist. “I got you these flip flops. Figured you don’t feel like wearing socks and tennis shoes, right?”
“Right.” I’m relieved. I don’t think I have the energy for anymore dressing.
I’m still holding his arms. My head is spinning from standing up. Part of me just wants to plop back down on my bed, but I know I’m going to eventually have to make my way into the living room. He must have read my mind again because he asks, “Can you walk to the living room?”
“I have to get there eventually. I can try.”
He shakes his head and swiftly scoops me into his arms like he did in the bathroom. Too tired to really laugh, I just smile and close my eyes. “Thank you,” I mutter as I look up to him.
“The last thing I need is for you to pass out on me.” He gently puts me down onto the loveseat. “I think you’re dehydrated.”
There is no doubt in my mind. Laying back down reminds me of the heaviness in my chest. I start coughing, and now I’m worried that I won’t be able to make it back to the bathroom if I start to throw up again. I can see the same realization come to him because his eyes bulge, and he dashes to the kitchen. There are cabinet doors slamming until he finds the right one. I hear the sound of metal clanking. As he places the stock pot in my lap, I lose the ability to hold back the dry heaving.
We’re in the car on our way back to my house after seeing the doctor. It took forever because I was really dehydrated. Luckily, they were able to do some IV fluids in the office. I am feeling much better. Ian was right, and I was wheezing. The doctor also gave me a nebulizer treatment. He sent me home with a bag full of medications that are supposed to have me feeling better in no time. I’m amazed how much better I already feel.
As I find myself looking out the window as the passenger in a car for the second day in a row, I realize that riding in the car on the way back from shopping with Val yesterday seems like an eternity ago. I make a mental note that I need to muster the strength when I get home to call her. At the very least, I need to text her to see if she and Alex can get my car. I’d do it now, but my phone died last night. I had Ian plug it into the charger before we left.
Also, now that I’m able to think more clearly, I realize that I’m not sure what to say or do with the entire Ian situation. I know Bradley and I are not a couple, but we are something. I was selfish, reckless even last night. I know better than to behave like a crazy college girl gone wild. What I did was dangerous and stupid. That thought is dismissed quickly as I feel my body warming, responding to his proximity as I am reminded of all the things we shared. How wonderful it was to have someone to take care of me this morning. The thought makes me smile.
Then I have an overwhelming feeling of guilt that envelopes me. I barely shake my head at myself. How can I feel guilty ? This man, Ian, has been so gracious
I wobble my head and shrug my shoulder. “Kinda.”
He creases his eyebrows and curls his lips into a sideways sexy grin, “Kinda?”
“Born in South Carolina but raised in Georgia.”
“Well, then. You’re a Carolina Girl. Arms up,” he says very matter of fact.
Arms up . Ah, the last time I heard him say that it was to undress me. Damn whatever is making me feel so sick .
“Were you a cheerleader?” he asks.
That surprises me. Where did that come from ? “Yes. How’d you know?”
“You have those shorts cheerleaders wear. The ones that barely cover their asses,” he chuckles.
I snicker.
He holds my black Soffe shorts out, “Stand up and step into these when you do.”
I clutch his arms for balance as I stand up to step into them. Any other day there is no way in hell I’d be caught in public in this outfit he’s picked for me. But today I’m way too tired to really care. After both of my feet are in, he pulls them up to my waist. “I got you these flip flops. Figured you don’t feel like wearing socks and tennis shoes, right?”
“Right.” I’m relieved. I don’t think I have the energy for anymore dressing.
I’m still holding his arms. My head is spinning from standing up. Part of me just wants to plop back down on my bed, but I know I’m going to eventually have to make my way into the living room. He must have read my mind again because he asks, “Can you walk to the living room?”
“I have to get there eventually. I can try.”
He shakes his head and swiftly scoops me into his arms like he did in the bathroom. Too tired to really laugh, I just smile and close my eyes. “Thank you,” I mutter as I look up to him.
“The last thing I need is for you to pass out on me.” He gently puts me down onto the loveseat. “I think you’re dehydrated.”
There is no doubt in my mind. Laying back down reminds me of the heaviness in my chest. I start coughing, and now I’m worried that I won’t be able to make it back to the bathroom if I start to throw up again. I can see the same realization come to him because his eyes bulge, and he dashes to the kitchen. There are cabinet doors slamming until he finds the right one. I hear the sound of metal clanking. As he places the stock pot in my lap, I lose the ability to hold back the dry heaving.
We’re in the car on our way back to my house after seeing the doctor. It took forever because I was really dehydrated. Luckily, they were able to do some IV fluids in the office. I am feeling much better. Ian was right, and I was wheezing. The doctor also gave me a nebulizer treatment. He sent me home with a bag full of medications that are supposed to have me feeling better in no time. I’m amazed how much better I already feel.
As I find myself looking out the window as the passenger in a car for the second day in a row, I realize that riding in the car on the way back from shopping with Val yesterday seems like an eternity ago. I make a mental note that I need to muster the strength when I get home to call her. At the very least, I need to text her to see if she and Alex can get my car. I’d do it now, but my phone died last night. I had Ian plug it into the charger before we left.
Also, now that I’m able to think more clearly, I realize that I’m not sure what to say or do with the entire Ian situation. I know Bradley and I are not a couple, but we are something. I was selfish, reckless even last night. I know better than to behave like a crazy college girl gone wild. What I did was dangerous and stupid. That thought is dismissed quickly as I feel my body warming, responding to his proximity as I am reminded of all the things we shared. How wonderful it was to have someone to take care of me this morning. The thought makes me smile.
Then I have an overwhelming feeling of guilt that envelopes me. I barely shake my head at myself. How can I feel guilty ? This man, Ian, has been so gracious
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