His dark eyes took on a scalpel's edge. "Am I?"
Was he? Shit. I blinked like a perturbed owl. He raised his eyebrows, challenging me. Did I dare push him further than I already had? I needed him to sign this place over to my name. I rolled over and stared at the ceiling in defeat. "Fine."
"Yes, God forbid you accept medical care. The atrocity." He took hold of my arms, and gently, he propped me up against a mountain of pillows. Where had they come from? I owned exactly one pillow, and I didn't have extras. It wasn't like I had guests over. But then the pillows were taking my weight, and I sank into their softness with gooey limbs, and I didn't care if they'd come from Spencer's own bed. They were nice.
My whole body was a pain-ravaged, floppy squid of misery. Even when I lifted my head to watch Spencer screw open the lid of the first medicine bottle, my vision swung up and down like I was on a bumpy dirt road. He put three pills from three bottles in his palm before holding them up for my inspection. "Antibiotics for the pneumonia, steroids for your raging bronchitis, and fever relief." He transferred them to my weak hand. "I don't usually demand this, but swallow."
I refused to laugh at that. His lips twitched like he knew I was fighting it. I glanced down at the pills, and I could already feel that my swollen throat was going to have trouble getting those enormous pills down. I hadn't eaten in days for the same reason. Come to think of it, how long had I been asleep? I could have sworn I'd crawled into bed a few hours ago, but if that were the case, Spencer wouldn't be here. Time to stall. I closed my fingers over the pills and took the water bottle from Spencer. "When did you get here?"
"Two hours ago. Took a flight this morning after we talked because I could hear how sick you are." His steady, brown eyes held mine. "I found you passed out here in bed, andluckilyI brought a few basic supplies." He gestured with his thumb to where a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope sat on the old, yellow armchair in the corner. "I had the pharmacy deliver your prescriptions."
I stared at the pills in my closed fingers. "Might not be allergies," I admitted.
"You scared the shit out of me, Bee," Spencer said severely. I turned to look at him again, and I regretted it. His dark eyebrows were turned up in concern, and there was no escaping the compassion in his strong features. It melted my resolve and liquified my insides.
I swallowed against a swollen throat. "Oh."
"Take. The pills," he said sternly.
There was no helping it. I'd have to try. I popped them all in my mouth, unscrewed the lid on my water bottle, and chugged for all I was worth. It took a few tries, and Spencer watched me with a line between his brows the whole time, but I got them down. Sighing in relief, he took the water from me again. "I did not want to give you an IV. For real. That was the next step."
"Pass," I croaked, dissolving into another coughing fit.
"You don't get a say either way," he replied callously, standing again. "And where the hell is the thermostat for this place? It's freezing in here."
Smugly, I said, "Wood stove. Living room."
"Seriously?" he deadpanned.
I shrugged. Alright, so I did have an HVAC system, but it cost too much to use. The thermostat was hidden in the kitchen pantry, and I prayed he didn't find it before I could kick him out.
"The fuckin' wild west," he muttered testily, leaving my small bedroom. I wished I could get out of bed just to see him heft wood like a country boy. I was willing to bet he'd never done anything remotely like it.
The back door opened and then shut, and then I heard him out by the wood pile, cussing and stacking logs. I snickered to myself before it hurt too much, and I gave up, lying back against the pillows. Had he seriously had pillows delivered here, too? What else had he bought?
I heard Spencer come back inside, stomping snow off his sneakers before the floorboards in the living room creaked. While I listened to the sounds of him fiddling with the stove, I closed my eyes. Even behind my lids, my head rocked back and forth uncomfortably, and my chest burned with every breath. I heard clanking from the living room, and then the thunk of wood on wood lulled me into a stupor, and I let myself sink into darkness.
Spencer must have figured out how to light the stove because I woke a while later to darkened windows and a warm bedroom. Spencer had added another blanket over top of me, and my bleary vision showed him kneeling at my side again.
I blinked several times. "I fell asleep."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Did you? I wasn't sure if that was you snoring or if your ranch hand was running a chainsaw." I tried to hit him, but the blankets had me trapped. He snorted before shimmying his hands under my arms. Then he lifted me, propping me up against the pillows again. "Don't hit me, Bee. I'm just kidding. Kind of."
I groaned. "This is humiliating."
"This is penance for ignoring your body," he chided softly. "You should know better, Dr. Rook. Do we remove a stone from the horse's shoe or wait until it becomes an abscess?"
I glowered. "Wow, did you google that just to rub it in my face?"
"I like shoeing videos on Facebook," he admitted with a sideways grin before sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. His eyes scanned my face like he was assessing my condition. "You look a little better, but you could use some fluids and food. Will you let me take your vitals?"
My heart squeezed with a mixture of longing and fear. Spencertouching me? Like for real touching me? I wasn't sure I could handle the intimacy. "If I say no?"
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head once and looking away. "Then I guess I'm keeping a ranch. I sure hope you can find a place. I hear the housing market is pretty rou—"
"You are so full of shit," I accused. Petulantly. God, this illness had stripped me of all power, and I hated it.
He returned his gaze to me, giving me a maddeningly calm smile. "Your call."
