"So bossy," she muttered. I glared. Rolling her eyes, she took the mask and held it over her mouth.
As the nebulizer chugged to life loudly, I sat on the rug with my back against the couch, groaning and letting my head fall back against her knee. I turned my head so I could see her. "So. Water rights."
Arabella lowered the mask. "My water rights are not your problem."
"You meanmywater rights? I think they are. I did a little research on the flight here, and from the age of the land parcel, you should have first dibs on water before your neighbors. Right?" I reached up and pushed the mask against her face again. "You can talk with that on."
"Oh, can I?" she asked acerbically. Admitting defeat, she added, "Yes, I get mountain runoff from the stream on my parcel. Or, I'm supposed to."
"They have lawyers who can investigate it," I said. "So, I'm thinking we need to contact a good one in the area with experience."
"Oh, is that what you were thinking?" Arabella's light eyes cinched dubiously. "Spencer, why are you doing this? Why are you here?"
I didn't want to tell her I was moving here. Not yet. She was sick as hell and not ready for whatever fight I was sure she would start once I told her that. Instead, I stretched my arms out across the edge of the couch cushions, groaning and rolling my neck. "I'm transferring the ranch to you, Bee. I told you that."
She continued to stare at me distrustfully, but eventually, she settled against the arm of the couch and her body relaxed. "I guess… thank you, then."
A faint smile pulled at my lips. "You guess?"
"I guess," she bit out with renewed stubbornness. "Even though you are a pain in the ass."
"Hm." I closed my eyes, resting the side of my face against her warm leg. "You need a pain in your ass." She tensed and my smile deepened. She was so easy to goad.
"How long are you staying?" she asked, her voice a little softer.
Deflect, deflect. I shrugged, not opening my eyes. "I'm going to make sure you get better, for a start. I have all the time in the world."
"Lucky me," she muttered.
"Be quiet and let the medicine work," I mumbled sleepily. Shit, I was tired. Sleeping in that chair had been hell, and I'd been a tightly coiled spring of worry since I'd found her sick yesterday.
She fell into a heavy silence, and when I peeled my eyes apart, I found her sound asleep with the mask held over her mouth and nose. The nebulizer filled the living room with loud whirring and chugging, and I watched Arabella sleep in a drowsy haze. When the last of the albuterol had dripped into the chamber and puffed around her mouth, I shut off the machine and gently lowered the mask from her face. She inhaled shakily, but I thought she sounded a little better.
Then my eyes drifted closed, and with the wood stove warming the space and my head on her leg, I let myself slip into sleep.
Chapter sixteen
Arabella
Someone lifted me out of my dreams with strong arms. Startled, I popped awake, and with bleary focus, I took in the dimly lit living room. And it was moving. Groaning, I closed my eyes again because clearly my head was still rocking like a shitty canoe. A chuckle from someone holding me shook my shoulder, and Spencer said, "Wake up, sleepy head."
I forced my eyes open again and realized Spencer was carrying me from the living room to my bedroom. "Spence?" I rasped out.
With my cheek resting against his shoulder and his arms firmly under my legs and back, he carried me across the rickety floors and toward the attached bathroom. "I let you sleep as long as I dared, but you need some water and food."
I sniffed, inhaling slowly, and I realized I could smell for the first time in days. And Spencer smelled like… a barn? I craned my neck, peering up at him. "Did you do farm shit?"
He angled an amused look down to me. "I quite literally did shovel farm shit."
"Whoa." I blinked at him, a little woozy and a lot impressed. "Jay showed you how?"
"Honestly, I think he was a little giddy about making a 'city slicker' shovel horse manure." He maneuvered us into my small, black and white tiled bathroom. "And surprisingly, the horses didn't kill me."
"You were scared," I guessed with a smile creeping up my face.
His lips pressed against a smile. "A little."
I breathed out a laugh, but it ended with a rattling cough, and I curled in on myself while it shook my chest and burned my throat. Spencer tightened his hold on me, pulling me close to his firm body. He smelled like hay and sweat and manure, and honestly, he'd never been more enticing to me. "Easy, Bee. Slow breaths."
