Page 12 of Work It Out
“Here.”
He opened his eyes to find Rayah standing beside him holding out a glass bowl. The steam curling from the dish smelled delicious.
“Are you a mind reader?”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a sweet potato and black bean skillet meal with ground turkey for extra protein. I normally put more spices in it, but I figured your stomach might be off.”
He took it from her, held the bowl up to his nose, and breathed deep. Heaven. “You made this?”
She placed a water bottle on the deck next to him and settled in at the small outdoor table with her own bowl. “This morning, before I came to get you. Eating on the road can be challenging, even after you get the hang of searching out healthier options. Plus, I wasn’t sure how much you’d be up to. The water is strawberry flavored, by the way. I put an electrolyte packet in it.”
He studied the contents of the bowl for a moment. It smelled amazing, but that green shit looked suspiciously like chopped kale. She watched him expectantly, so he took a tentative bite. The chunk of sweet potato hit his tongue and he could’ve cried. “Oh, sweet, sweet carbohydrates, how I’ve missed you.” He turned his best puppy dog look on her. “Marry me?”
“It’s not that good.” She scoffed, but her brown eyes twinkled. “Hush and eat your carbs.”
He took a bigger bite. “You’d wax poetic too if you hadn’t laid eyes on a potato for a month.”
Hmm, even the kale was edible. That should qualify as a miracle.
“Poor baby star.” She chuckled. “Talk to me when you haven’t had a cookie in three years.”
“Three—” His jaw dropped. The barbarity. “Butwhy?”
All humor melted from her face. “My father was…strict.”
“Uh, no. Strict is grounding your kid for missing curfew by one minute. That’s…that’s cruel.” That pronouncement hung between them in the afternoon air like a grenade with no pin. Neither of them moved. He barely breathed. Why did he never think before he ran his mouth?
“Cruel,” she repeated, as if tasting the word and finding it repugnant. She dropped her fork back into her dish with a clatter and stared toward the river, away from him. “Yeah, cruel sums him up pretty well.”
Yep, he’d stumbled onto a landmine. If he pushed, she’d either clam up or punch him. Maybe both. He had the insane urge to hug her. Not that he would. She’d curled in on herself like she could form a protective shell.
So, he leveled the field a bit in their messed-up game of tit for tat. “And I thought I had it bad. My dad’s a cardiologist with a list of clients that reads like the invites for the Oscars. But then, most cardiologists are pricks with a god complex. I’m pretty sure it’s a prerequisite for the specialty program.” He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “He did let me have cookies, but only those crappy gluten-free, sugar-free, taste-free abominations. Before we moved to California, Granny made all kinds of contraband and packed it in Tupperware so I could keep it in my room where Dad wouldn’t find it.”
The tightness eased from her lips and around her eyes. “That sounds like Jean.”
“You didn’t have anyone to sneak you cookies?” He stuffed another big bite in his mouth like the answer didn’t matter, when no answer had mattered to him that much in a long time.
Rayah lifted her fork and picked through her bowl for a chunk of potato. “Nah. Not that—” A snippet of an old John Michael Montgomery song cut her off, and her body language went from cautious to beleaguered. “Great.” She plunked her bowl on the table and pulled her phone from her pocket. “I have to answer this.” With an apologetic smile, she jumped up, taking her call back inside. He heard “Hey, Blaine. What’s up?” and a booming “What were you thinking?” from the other end before the door shut between them.
That’s how it went for the rest of the day. Jake napped on the chaise in the sun or chilled on the couch like the giant overcooked potato he was, while her phone rang over and over. She’d put out one fire, only for something else to burn down two minutes later.
Not every emergency was work related. Nate called because one of his bevy of tourists was talking about moving to Phoenix to be near him. After two nights.What kind of whack-a-doodle does that?Pierce texted under the guise of checking on Jake, then slipped in that he’d locked her keys in her car.Do you have a spare somewhere?She even fielded calls from Granny Jean. The way Rayah talked in quick circles, Granny couldn’t possibly know they weren’t in Bigbone or that he’d been sick.
He doubted her team had any clue how much they leaned on her. She navigated from one problem to the next without breaking a sweat or losing her patience, all while she took care of him. She kept him hydrated and fed him like a vegetable-averse five-year-old, sneaking things into everything she gave him. Unlike Pierce’s efforts, it all tasted delicious.
When he’d fallen asleep on the couch without a blanket, she’d covered him up. Quiet and gentle as she was, he woke enough to peak through his lashes and see her shaking her head with a soft smile and an almost silent “What am I supposed to do with you?” before he drifted off again. Or perhaps he’d dreamed that part.
If he felt the least lightheaded, she shoved a can of oxygen under his nose. Once or twice the feeling had simply come from standing too quickly or holding his neck at the wrong angle too long, but he breathed deeply and let the guilt eat at him.
He hated lying to her. Under all that prickly sass, Rayah was a sweetheart. Pierce was right; she’d lose it when she found out. He wouldn’t even blame her. Unfortunately, she was also uncommonly stubborn, and they both had too much on the line to risk her sending him home. He comforted himself with the rationale that he’d signed a waiver and it wasn’t like he’d blame her for his choices if it all went sideways.
Sleeping in adjacent rooms could’ve been awkward, but again, her pragmatism saved the day. Clad in adorable flannel shorts and an oversize T-shirt that read ARMY across her chest, she’d stood in his doorway and stated, “Altitude sickness can worsen at night. We’ll leave the doors open so I can hear if you start gasping.” He was too sick to make a joke about sleeping naked, just in case, but at least he wanted to again.
Once they were both settled in their respective beds and the lights were off, the night turned silent in a way L.A. never could. No cars sped past on a freeway or honked because they were barely moving. It made the darkness heavier against his skin as he lay staring in the direction of a ceiling he couldn’t see. No stray streetlamps here to leak light through nearly shut curtains.
Maybe he’d slept too much today, but his mind raced round and round what she’d said that afternoon and the vulnerable, matter-of-fact way she’d said it, as if she desperately wanted it to be no big deal that she’d had no one in her world who cared enough to sneak little Rayah cookies.
He rolled so his back was to the open door. Not his business.
