Read Online Small Town Spin by Lyndee Walker - Free Book Online

guy, either. The only thing I’d nailed down was that he was good to me. Years of up-close-and-personal with the worst of society had blessed me with a good creep radar, and Joey didn’t set it off. Since he liked to stop in without calling (and clearly, I had shoddy locks), I’d given him a key shortly after Christmas.
    “Straight to bed.” I heard the low, warm voice from the hallway before I saw him, and my stomach flopped. Since we’d never been to bed together, I figured he was worried about my illness. I hoped, anyway. It’s impossible to feel sexy with a nose full of yuck.
    “Is that an order?” I asked.
    “Absolutely.” He stepped into the kitchen, his olive skin dark with scruff along his jaw, his full lips parting over a smile. I really was sick, because my pulse didn’t even flutter. “You sounded horrible on the phone. And no offense, but you don’t look two steps out of a funeral home.”
    Great. I smoothed my hair back and then gave up, too sapped to be self-conscious. Darcy yipped and pawed my ankle and I scratched behind her ears, dizziness washing over me when I bent down.
    “Whoa.” I grabbed the back of one of my little bistro chairs and hauled myself into it. “Hang on, Darce.”
    “Bed. You need rest. I can’t believe you drove your car.” Joey shook his head, a line creasing his brow. “I already took Darcy outside, and I fed her, too.”
    I smiled a thank you, staring after he turned away.
    Damn, he looked good. His suit jacket was slung over the back of the other kitchen chair. He stepped to the stove in a perfectly-tailored charcoal vest and pants, his cornflower blue shirt making his skin glow warmer in the soft light. I marveled at the fact that this man was in my house. Cooking.
    “This story is the kind you don’t skip out on,” I said.
    “I saw it. Sad stuff.” He lifted the lid off a pot and stirred and I caught a whiff of something delicious through the sinus fog.
    “What is that?”
    “My mother’s minestrone will cure anything,” he said, settling the lid back in place and turning to me. “It’s full of vitamins, and it tastes good, too. It’ll be ready in about half an hour.”
    “I have less than no appetite.” I folded my arms on the table and dropped my head onto them, muffling the words. “I just feel...gross. Stupid germs.”
    “Which is why you need to eat. And rest.” He looped one arm around my waist and fit the other under my knees, scooping me out of the chair and walking toward the bedroom.
    “In all the times I’ve imagined you carrying me to bed, this is not what I had in mind,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder.
    “You imagined what?” His voice dropped. “Let’s hear that story.”
    “I probably shouldn’t have said that,” I said. “My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Disregard.”
    “Not on your life.” He settled me on the edge of the wide cherry four-poster that dominated the floor space in my tiny bedroom. “But we’ll table it for when you feel better.” His dark eyes sparkled and my stomach cartwheeled.
    “You really are an interesting guy, you know that? I never would’ve expected you to play nursemaid.”
    He chuckled. “Thank you. I think.”
    “Shutting up now,” I said. “All the cold medicine I’ve taken this week is affecting my filter.”
    I kicked my eggplant Jimmy Choo slingbacks onto the floor and splayed my toes. “Everything hurts.”
    “Pajamas, medicine, and under the covers,” he ordered.
    I saluted. “Yes, sir.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the doorframe. “Well?”
    “If I had the energy, I’d throw a pillow at you. Get out.”
    He raised both hands. “You said something about your filter being off. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He stepped into the hall and shut the door.
    I dug for cute pajamas and finally found a matching set. Wriggling them on, I climbed under the covers and called an all clear.
    “So, what’s the deal with this kid? Looks