She nodded. “My entire body hurts. Stupid wall.”
“It’s not the wall’s fault. You’ve been pushing yourself for months, and that was before balcony diving. I think it’s safe to say the stress has caught up with you. Now come on, up,” he said and bent to help her. When her legs wobbled unsteadily, he scooped her up bridal-style to carry.
“So muscly,” Quinley said. “Annndhe cooks.”
She curled against him and rested her head on his shoulder, trusting him so thoroughly Elias fought the surge of protectiveness threatening to bring him to his knees. All because of the lure that was Quinley Anders, even sick and feverish and in need of a shower.
He carried her down the short hall, bypassing the open door revealing a nicely equipped home office and moving on to the one she’d made a bedroom. The bed was rumpled, sheet falling off onto the floor. But the nightstands held used tissues and empty lozenge wrappers. “You got some nice furniture.”
“My mom is awesome. Married to a toxic narcissist but awesome.”
He lowered Quinley to the mattress and froze when she glommed onto his arm like an octopus and refused to let loose.
“Don’t leave. Not yet. Don’t go yet,” she whispered with a husky voice.
He fought the tug of emotions bombarding him. Then he sucked in a deep breath and lowered himself so that he spooned her. Her sigh of contentment nearly did him in and made him forget all the reasons she wasn’t for him. Right now, she needed him, and he couldn’t leave if he tried.
Elias slid an arm under her pillowed head and made himself more comfortable despite her fevered body. He’d stay long enough for her to fall asleep. Once she did, then he’d leave and they’d go right back to just being friends and nothing else. Not…this.
“Thank you. For sending Hudson in your truck.”
“You’re welcome.”
“He’s a flirt.”
“I’ll be happy to box his ears and warn him to stay away.”
“Brooks and Dawson already did.”
“Good.”
“I meant it, you know.”
“Meant what?”
“Don’t regret kissing you.”
Elias stilled. His heart thundered against his chest like hooves on a racetrack. If he was honest, he didn’t regret kissing her back, either.
“I’mgladI kissed you,” she murmured in her sleepy, raspy voice. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, but…I’mnotsorry for that. I like you, even though you’re a food overlord.”
Her grip squeezed his arm as though she wanted to make sure he didn’t pull away, and he felt her hot breath against his skin. A soft kiss?
He closed his eyes at the feel of it, the feel of her, and tucked her a bit more tightly against him.
“Good kisser, too,” she said with one last breathy whisper before the full stomach and meds kicked in and her breathing evened out as her exhausted and sick body gave into sleep.
He still didn’t move. Couldn’t, given the way his entire body felt weak as he thought of those kisses and her smiles and teasing words, weaker still when he considered how quickly she’d gotten under his skin. Fear rolled over him, through every vein and muscle, overtaking every thought.
They were hardly more than strangers, friends, yes, but strangers—yet if something happened to her, he knew he’d never be the same.
Two weeks later, Quinley stared across the high-top table at Rhys and lifted her glass to her lips. Her ex looked particularly handsome tonight in his body-molding tuxedo.
“It’s good to see you, Quinley. How’s the new business coming along?”
“Slow but steadily increasing. So far so good,” she admitted. “The majority of my clients at my dad’s firm were female, and most have decided to make the switch rather than work with him or the rest of his boys’ club.”
“Sounds like you’re off to a great start then.”
