Romeo (Payne Brothers Romance Book 6)

by Sosie Frost

  “Wouldn’t know. Never done it before.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s what we did. I had my arm wrapped around yours. My head on your shoulder. Our legs touched.”

  “I think I’m gonna need a diagram.”

  She reached for her purse. “I drew one!”

  Of course, she fucking did. “It’s no big deal, Ladybug. Cuddling didn’t screw with my sugar.”

  “It was still a stupid thing to do. And it won’t ever happen again.”

  Was I supposed to be relieved?

  Christ, that was the worst news I’d heard since I woke up in the hospital.

  I rubbed a hand along my chin. Rough with stubble? How long was I out?

  “Look…” How to phrase this delicately for her. “Usually when I spend a night with a woman, cuddling isn’t a top priority. It’s no big deal.”

  “It is a big deal because we cuddled. And then we overslept. And then I let you get sick.”

  No one let me get sick. That shit was always on me. It didn’t matter how normal a life I tried to live, a looming shadow always lurked just behind me. The disease waited for the most inopportune moment to kick me in the balls, spit in my eye, and turn my blood into syrup.

  But Lady didn’t need to know that.

  No one did.

  I forced a grin. “It happens, okay? Now I get to act out my naughty nurse fantasy.”

  She wasn’t convinced. “Trying to see the brighter side of things?”

  “The bright, busty side of things.” I winked. “You saw it. The nurse already gave me her number.”

  This didn’t impress her.

  “I was there for that,” she said. “And, for the record, the nurse gave you a call button.”

  “A booty call.”

  “I think you’re still a little loopy, Casanova.”

  “I always seem to do my best work when I’m drunk or comatose.”

  Lady smirked. “Well, I’d like to see you do your magic. You have your choice of nurses on call—either Big Bertha or Old Helga.”

  “I’ll take my chances with Bertha. Helga has cold hands.”

  “It’s amazing that you can joke around like this. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “It’s just diabetes.”

  She didn’t believe me.

  Funny. No one ever did.

  “It’s not just diabetes,” she said. “It’s serious. And here I was, shoving you in a closet and hiding you away while you were sick. God only knows how bad it got in there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. Look at me. Talking. Happy. Horny.”

  But the woman was still ready to crumble. “Quint, you had a seizure in my car.”

  Wasn’t the first time. I’d make her a deal.

  “You worry about the seizures…” I said. “I’ll worry about the giant fucking brush burn on my ass.”

  Lady winced. “I had to drag you out through the garden.”

  “Well, you damaged some prime real estate. Better be prepared to rub some Neosporin on those cheeks. Maybe some massage oil too.”

  “Quint.”

  “I’ll even let you use your hands.” I winked. “Though I am partial to lips and breasts.”

  “Quint.” Her voice lowered. “I was really scared.”

  And I hated that. “I had some sugar, and now I’m fine.”

  “Are you afraid it’ll happen again?”

  “It will…always does. But I’ll get myself a candy bar or some insulin. Everything will work out. Believe me. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

  Unfortunately, that didn’t reassure her. She nibbled on her thumb nail, eyes wide. Almost watering.

  Jesus, what did I do to this girl?

  I had to give her something, but the last thing I wanted was to talk about this fucking disease.

  “I’ve had it since I was a kid,” I said. “And I’ve landed in the hospital more times than I can count. But I’ve learned how to manage it. Sometimes I feel bad. I fix it. I get better. I go about my life.”

  “I’ve never seen you check your sugar.”

  It wasn’t something I often did in public where people could see, worry, judge. “I know my body. I’ve had this for so long, I can tell if I’m doing good or bad.”

  At least, most of the time.

  Almost was good enough in horseshoes, hand grenades, and glucose monitoring.

  I shouldn’t have done it, but I reached for her. I brushed a finger along her hand as she clutched the blanket. Her skin, dark and rich, contrasted the sickly pale of the sheet. And me. I’d gone gray. It’d take a day to get that color back. In the meantime, everyone would treat me just like she was.

  Like I was sick.

  “I can tell by how I’m feeling of my sugar is high or low,” I explained. “But I didn't know that your couch was so damned comfortable…and that your grand master plan would be so fucking boring.”

  That distracted her. Lady straightened, shocked that I would dare insult her most maniacal scheme to date.

  “It’s not boring. It’s practical.”

  “Same difference.”

  She poked my chest. I didn’t tell her she struck a bruised rib from when I fell.

  She huffed. “You told me we could try things my way this time, so I made a plan. And it makes sense. We analyze the members of our families who have the most in common with each other, and then we systematically pair them together by referencing the most likely times and places where they would naturally meet. Should I get the spreadsheet again?” She reached for her phone. “I have two copies, one digital, and one I’m planning on laminating—”

  I pretended to pass out, unhooking the oxygen monitor clipped to my finger. Lady had none of it. She leaned over the bed, snapped the equipment back into place, and slapped my shoulder. It hurt. I had more bruises covering my body than I could count. Enough to convince anyone who’d asked that I’d had a rough, entertaining night.

  But they didn’t need to know the truth. It had been rough. But it was far from entertaining.

  Never was.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She crossed her arms. “Well, let’s recap the ideas that you concocted. First, there was a “Family-Aid” concert in which we would invite the Foo Fighters to Butterpond in order to raise money for a monumental therapy session—which you planned to sell to A&E for TV and film rights. Then you considered a Battle Royale with paintball guns and tiger traps in the woods. And then, at some point during the night, you stopped planning altogether to invent a tortilla chip that tasted like eggs so that you could eat—”

  I grinned. “Chips for breakfast!”

  “And then you almost died.”

  “Not from the chips.”

  She still wasn’t relieved. “It doesn’t matter. All of this is on hold until you get healthy again. We’ll worry about the feud later.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. Hell, I was fine by the time we got to the hospital. Whatever you stuffed in my face worked.”

  “It was the icing from a tube of cinnamon rolls.”

  “Tasty and life-saving. What more could you want?” I really didn’t want to talk about this, but something told me she wouldn’t let it go. “Look, I’ve had diabetes forever. When I was younger, my parents warned me that eating candy would make my teeth rot. Well, I ate plenty of candy, and it was my pancreas that fucked up. Take that big dentistry.”

  She didn’t laugh. How many times could I possibly strike out with this woman?

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  And yet she still wasn’t convinced. She tugged on a thread fraying from the blanket and wove the string around her finger.

  “Do you remember…anything?” She asked.

  “Not really.”

  That seemed to relieve her. “You can’t remember anything I said to you?”

  I nestled deeper into the pillow. “Why? Did you say something good?”

  “That depends on what time you passed out.”

>   “I’m going to be really upset if I missed something fun. What are the cliff notes?”

  Her smile was the only warmth within the sterile hospital room. “I pledged my undying love to you and offered my virginity.”

  And if that were true, Varius would have another faithful tailgating in his pews every Sunday.

  “I always miss the good stuff when I pass out,” I said. “Any chance I can get a rain-check on that virginity until I’m out of the hospital?”

  “That’s the least I can do.”

  “If you’re feeling really guilty, you can give me a sponge bath.”

  “Why? A guy like you would just get dirty again.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “What about something sweet to eat?”

  “I saw a gift shop downstairs.”

  My gaze traced over her perfect curves. “Oh, I’d love to go downstairs.”

  She snapped her fingers, drawing my gaze back up. “All you ever do is flirt. Even in the hospital.”

  “That’s all there is to do in the hospital. Usually I flirt to get some extra pudding at dinner. Now I bet I could get something much better.”

  “What’s that?”

  “After such a harrowing experience, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

  Lady laughed. “What a shame that we’re just friends.”

  “I nearly lost my life.” I rested my hand on my chest. “There I was, the world going dark, and all I could think was that I had not kissed a beautiful woman for so long.”

  “And your other conquests didn’t flash before your eyes?”

  “Nope. I only saw one beautiful angel…who dragged me by the ankles through a garden made mostly of sharp rocks and flowers with thorns that the nurses had to extract from my ass.” I grinned. “I’m not just hoping for a kiss…I’m looking for a miracle cure.”

  Had I known a simple diabetic episode might have earned her kiss, I would’ve tossed my insulin pens long ago.

  Lady slowly sat on the edge of the bed, casting only a cautious glance over her shoulder toward the door. She leaned down and offered me a quiet, peaceful kiss.

  Gentle.

  So fucking gentle.

  Her lips nibbled mine with such purity it was like she’d blessed me with utter perfection. I’d never experienced anything so…

  Wholesome.

  No frantic undressing. No wasted words. No regretted mornings.

  A kiss like hers could undo all the worst decisions a man made in his life and replace them with promises of something more beautiful than he deserved.

  She ended the kiss with a bashful smirk.

  Christ, if I hadn’t died yet, that smile would end me forever.

  I didn’t let her pull away, drawing her back for another intoxicating kiss. Unfortunately, voices rose from the hallway.

  I groaned. “Cassi.”

  Lady swallowed, her voice trembling with heat. “It’d be a lot more romantic if you didn’t whisper your sister’s name.”

  Son of a bitch.

  My siblings’ voices echoed from the nurses’ station, asking for my room number.

  “Shit.” I pushed her off the bed. “I think my family’s here.”

  Lady nearly tripped over my IV as she raced to the door. She peeked into the hall, squealed, and slammed the door.

  “Oh no,” she whispered. “It’s your entire family.”

  It wouldn’t surprise me. They usually caravanned to the hospital when this shit happened.

  “Who?” I asked.

  Lady dove for her purse, upsetting the tray table and spilling the plastic pitcher of water. “Looks like Julian, Pastor V, and Cassi. They cannot see me here.”

  That was the truth. Duke had already reached out to Julian. The prospect of selling the farm had not been well received. The grandest Fuck You Butterpond ever experienced was shouted to the Heavens by my eldest brother…

  During church.

  Duke must’ve anticipated the refusal, but as far as I knew, he said nothing about the lawsuit. Yet. God only knew why the bastard had hesitated, but it wasn’t because he’d had a change of heart. As far as I was concerned, Lady was the only Barlow who possessed an ounce of compassion.

  Lady raced to the door, swore as my family approached, and panicked. I pointed toward the bathroom.

  “Hide in there,” I said. “I’ll get rid of them.”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “I can’t stay in there!”

  “At least you’ve got a toilet. I only had a pair of your grandmother’s shoes.”

  Lady gasped. “You didn’t.”

  “Get in!”

  Lady ducked into the bathroom and gently closed the door just as my family burst into the room.

  Panicked.

  Irritated.

  Relieved to find me alive.

  My little sister suffocated me in a flurry of hugs, kisses, and one very firm slap to my shoulder.

  “You had us worried to death!” Cassi had a talent for smothering and scolding at the same time. “We didn’t know where you were, what happened, or who brought you here. Who was the woman?”

  I had to lie. Wasn’t like they’d believe the truth anyway. “You know, I didn’t get her name.”

  Varius had eyes the color of stormy skies, and he wielded his stare with a perfected glance of scrutiny and disappointment that demanded a confession inside and out of the church.

  “You didn’t know her name?” The minister asked.

  “It wasn’t exactly what I was after, preacher.”

  Cassi sighed. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  I shrugged. “I was having such a good time that I forgot to eat.”

  Julian didn’t like the excuse. He had a lot of Dad in him. Tidus said too much, but somebody had to assume the role of head a family. Who better than the one who understood us the most but had enough common sense to keep his mouth shut?

  Julian was a good guy, and I respected that he kept to himself, especially when he was within his rights to lecture his family about the problems they already knew and the reasons they refuse to improve.

  Besides, he had his own issues. The least of which was breaking his back during his rookie year playing for the Ironfield Rivets. Lost a lot of money, wasted more potential, and nearly destroyed his future. Fortunately, things had a way of working out for Julian. Life had dealt him a shitty hand only to reward him with the perfect wife and son. They had granted him a little more patience, but I still wasn’t bearing my soul to that son of a bitch.

  Even if he would’ve listened.

  “We got the call late,” Jules said. “Wasn’t sure what we’d find when we got here.”

  Wasn’t that every hospitalization? “I’m always fine. You know that. Why did you even come? You got enough going on today. Aren’t you supposed be planting the greenhouse plants into the far field?”

  “That was the plan, before my baby brother fucked himself up.”

  “It’s going to take more than glucose to slow me down.”

  Cassi still fretted, bouncing between the bed and her purse. “I should text Marius and Tidus. They’re probably worried.”

  I flashed my own phone. “Don’t bother. They already texted.”

  Marius was a man of few words, especially when it came to hospitals. Couldn’t blame him. He’d spent enough time trapped between the surgery table and the rehab center. But it wasn’t the explosion that nearly killed him. It was everyone’s pity that nearly drove him to the edge. Since the accident, Marius was the only one who never gave me shit for being sick. Some things a man couldn’t control, be it a fucked-up illness or an IED that stole a leg.

  Tidus, however, was fostering a newfound sense of decency while traveling with his girlfriend in her barbecue food truck. His text had a lot more heart.

  You alive or dead?

  I’d answered with a ghost emoji.