Page 24 of Risk of a Lifetime
“Why?”
“I don’t know, except he’s a know-it-all. I’ll keep an eye on him. By the way, looks like I’ll be around a little longer.”
“Should have known.” She sat a jar of crackers on the table.
“Not my idea. Deputy Evans said Sheriff Davis asked me to stick around until he gets back in town. Got a problem with that?”
She sighed heavily in return. “No problem. I’m sure my uncle has his reasons. I just figured you’d rather be on your way.”
He mindlessly crushed a handful of crackers into the bowl of soup. “Smells good, thanks.”
She nodded and continued to putter around the kitchen.
“No more soup.” His cheeks puffed with a sigh of air as he pushed the bowl away. “Think I need to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Marcy watched him walk down the hall and turn to go in their bedroom. “Hey, bucko. Wrong room.”
“Sorry. Force of habit.” He stepped down the hall.
“Hasn’t been much of a habit the past few years, now has it?” She swore she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she might still care.
Too late.
“We need to talk.” He staggered, stopped walking, then did the slow-turn glance over his shoulder. “Not tonight.”
She opened her mouth to make one of her sarcastic remarks, but he slumped against the wall, and she darted to his side. “Dizzy?”
Nodding, he straightened. Eyes wide open, he wobbled with each step. She looped his arm around her shoulder and wrapped hers around his waist. Together, they stumbled to the side of the bed before he lowered himself down.
Elbows braced on his knees, head lowered to his palms as they scrubbed his forehead, he grunted, accentuating his current state. “Where’re those pain pills the doc gave me? My head feels like it’ll explode any second now.”
After rushing to the kitchen, she brought him one with a glass of water. “You need to be in the hospital.”
“No.” He downed the medicine and stretched out across the bed. “I’ll be okay.”
“Let’s get you out of those clothes and under the covers then.”
“I’m okay like this.”
“JB Bradley, you never once slept in a lick of clothes in this house. And you’re not starting now.” Where the heck had that come from? She might as well have opened the door to her bedroom. The man she knew would pounce on that suggestion’s implication.
Nothing. No movement. No comment. He did nothing to indicate he even realized what she had said. Not even that sexy wink or bite of his lip that could entice her to hell and back. He must really be sick. Or done and over her. Maybe both. Didn’t matter. They were nothing more than two friends thrown into circumstances beyond their control.
She pulled him up until he sat on the side of the bed again.
“Go on. I can undress myself.” He pitched toward the floor.
Shaking her head at his stubbornness, she braced her body against his to keep him on the bed as she bent down and tugged his boots and socks off. He leaned into her side, steadying himself with his hand against her hip, and her core flashed with recognition.
Down girl. That is not a pass.
“Stand up, so we can get you in bed.”
He stood, flicked the button on his jeans, and unzipped. She tugged the pants downward, and they fell to the floor. Her insides tingled on her intake of breath. The air in the room grew heavy with need. He hadn’t changed since they left the hospital. Still commando.
She lifted the edge of his T-shirt, but he shook his head, pushing her hands away.
“I saw the burn marks at the hospital. And the slash marks. Which we will talk about later. Now help me get this off of you.” She grabbed the shirt one more time, successfully pulling it over his head with his help.
