“Yeah, bless her,” Nick said fervently. “Now you—” he touched the tip of a calloused finger to her nose. “You are going to take a nice warm shower while I get this all set out. You’re going to eat and then you’re going to bed.”
“Yes, Dad.” Elle rolled her eyes but it was lost on Nick, who was busy uncovering dishes, setting out plates. God, the smells! Her stomach growled and she remembered she hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. Now that Nick had forced her to pay attention to herself she realized how hungry and tired she was. He’d been right and she was wrong. Fainting from hunger and exhaustion wasn’t going to help anyone.
By the time Elle came out from the bathroom where she’d had a blissfully long and hot shower, Nick had arranged everything on the dining table. Done right, too. Mats and plates and cutlery and two glasses because there was also some wine decanting.
She could afford one glass of wine. It would probably help her sleep.
“Madame,” Nick intoned, a huge snowy napkin over one brawny forearm, the other hand pulling out her chair for her. He was trying to keep a straight face because Nick Ross did not look like a butler. Not in the slightest. He did look like a tough, very sexy man pretending for a second or two to be a butler.
Elle sat with a sigh, her first moment of relaxation since the plague began.
Nick was piling her plate high with food.
“Nick,” she murmured. Her stomach started closing up. He looked up with a sharp gaze and stopped immediately. He set her plate in front of her.
“Eat,” he ordered. “You’re not hungry, I get that. You’re too tired and stressed to be hungry. But trust me when I say you need some hot food in you. Once you start, you’ll feel better. Start with one bite.”
Okay. She tried a bite of risotto. Mushroom risotto, creamy with cheese and butter.Too rich, she thought, until it settled warmly in her stomach.
“Another,” Nick said and she put another bite in her mouth. Instead of a blocked system, gullet and stomach closed tighter than a fist, her system opened up and accepted another bite. And she found she was ravenous.
“That’s my girl,” Nick said as she started tasting the other dishes. Besides the risotto, which was of course delicious, Stella had sent a ragout of vegetables, baked goat cheese, an orange and fennel salad, fresh focaccia and homemade raspberry ice cream.
She ate half of what was on her plate and sat back to watch Nick demolish everything else, fast and neat.
She sipped at her wine. “So. Sophie and Jon.” She cleared her throat delicately. “That was a surprise.”
Nick stopped, fork in mid-air. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Elle turned her glass in her hands. “It just feels…weird.”
She’d been utterly taken aback at seeing Sophie take Jon’s hand, smile up at him in that unmistakeable way women had when looking at their man. The way she looked at Nick, the way Catherine looked at Mac. Though it took a lot of courage on Catherine’s part to look at Mac that way. Mac looked like he ate fragile young scientists for breakfast and spat out the bones.
Still, Catherine was very very happy. And Mac was visibly completely in love with her. So that was working out okay.
“Weird how?” Nick spooned up the last of the raspberry ice cream and held it in front of her mouth. It was divine but she was stuffed. She shook her head.
“Well, for one thing, Jon doesn’t seem her type.”
“Sophie has a type?”
“Hmm. She’s very picky.” And detached when it came to men. They both were. Well, Elle wasn’t any more. She couldn’t be detached about Nick. She’d loved him practically her whole life. He was in her blood and he made that blood boil. Sophie wasn’t like that, she didn’t do passion. Elle had seen her date dozens of men and Sophie shrugged them off. Perfectly acceptable men in suits, with retirement accounts, good jobs, advanced degrees. Sophie would go out once or twice then get bored.
So, a guy like Jon would be off Sophie’s radar. Wouldn’t he?
“What’s Jon like?” Suddenly, Elle needed to know about the man with her friend. Sophie was out there all alone in incredible danger, becoming emotionally involved with the man sent to protect her. “He seems so—so cold. And controlled.”
“You don’t know him,” Nick said, eyes steady on hers.
She ducked her head. No, no she didn’t know Jon. She’d only met him days ago and those days had been stressful. And then the plague struck. She lifted her eyes to Nick’s. “My best friend in the world is with him, right now. Her life in his hands.”
“I can reassure you there, honey,” Nick said briskly. “Jon is as good as they come. If anyone can keep your friend safe, that’s Jon. He’s fast and he’s tough. And cool. Always thinking five steps ahead. Man’s a machine.”
“Saying he’s a machine isn’t helping,” she whispered. This was insane. All she needed to care about was Jon bringing Sophie safely to Haven. What difference did it make if he was going to break Sophe’s heart afterward? And yet—and yet…Sophie’sfacewhen she looked at Jon. Elle had never seen that expression before. Open, completely vulnerable. In the midst of all that chaos and death.
“Stop that.” Nick looked at a spot over her head, then kissed her. “Stop overthinking this. I can practically see all the thoughts buzzing around in your head. You’re just exhausting yourself and you’re not doing your friend any good at all.”
“I know.” Elle shook her head. “I just can’t help worrying about her.”
