by Vicki Green
“You okay, bro?”
I nod, giving him a smile. “Yep. I’m good. Let’s do this.” I pat his shoulder and we walk to the area he was working on. I need this day to go fast. I’m hoping to stop by Bria’s later and surprise her. Shit. This day’s gonna drag, I just know it.
The day ends up long. I haven’t seen Bria all day. By the end of the day, I’m anxious and on edge. Once we cleaned up everything, I walk to the trailer and go inside. Irish is sitting behind the desk working on the computer. I walk to the desk and just stand there watching her. She looks up and huffs.
“What?”
Irish always tends to goad me on. “Nothing. Where’s Bria?”
She rolls her eyes and looks back at the computer screen. “She didn’t work here today.” Her eyes move up to mine. “She worked from home, making calls, setting up clients, and ordering office supplies and furniture.” She looks back at the screen. “You’d know this if you’d bother texting or calling her instead of wondering.” Shit. She’s right. I’m an idiot. “Look….” I come out of my thoughts and find her staring at me. Her face softens and a look of tenderness overshadowing her face, which is weird for her when it comes to me. “I know this is your first time having any kind of relationship with a woman.” Boy, she isn’t kidding. “But it’s not all about being with her. Women like guys to call them or send them a text, asking how their day is going and what they’re doing, stuff like that.” She looks back at the screen and I feel grateful.
I turn to walk away but stop and look over my shoulder. “Thanks, Irish. I really appreciate it.” She looks up and gives me a smile then her face changes rapidly.
“Don’t get used to my kindness.”
I open my mouth to give a retort but hers turns up into a smile. I’ll let her have that. Guess I kinda owe her.
I leave the trailer and get in my truck, starting her up, and then pull out my phone. I don’t like to text. I’d rather just call but Irish said sending a text was a good thing to do too.
Me: Missed you today. Want company?
There. I pull out of the site and head to the gas station. When I pull in, my phone vibrates. I check the text and frown.
Bria: You might not want 2. I’m sick.
Shit! I should have checked up on her today. I’m more than an idiot. Quickly I stop off at the gas station, fill my tank with gas, then run into the convenience store. I might be an asshole for not calling her today but I’ll be damned if I don’t make it up to her. I grab what I need in the store then jog back to my truck, get in, and take off for her house. I hated not replying to her but I figure I’ll get there fast and surprise her. Besides, I’m all kinds of worried about her being sick. I drive like a maniac over to her house, anxiousness and dread of how sick she might be, paying a toll on me. By the time I pull into her driveway, I’m a wreck. Grabbing the sack, I get out of my truck and jog to her front door. Damn, I wish I had a key. I hate making her get up to answer. I press on the button for the doorbell and wait. It feels like forever before the door slowly opens. Her eyes are watery, her nose a bit red, and she looks like she feels like shit. But in her silky robe and house slippers, she still looks beautiful.
“Kane. What are you doing here?” Her voice sounds scratchy, lower than normal, hoarse.
I don’t wait for an invitation. She steps back as I walk in, heading to the kitchen. I hear her following me, the soft pads of her house shoes sounding on the hardwood floor. I set the sack down on the counter then open cabinets down below until I find the right sized pan. Turning on the burner, I remove the can of chicken noodle soup, pouring the contents into the pan then go over to the sink, fill the empty can with water and pour it into the mixture. I open drawers until I find the silverware, taking out a large spoon and stirring the soup. She sneezes, several times. The only sound in the room except for my stirring.
“That is so sweet of you but I didn’t want you to come over and catch this,” she says, her voice cracking.
Caring.
Concern.
For me.
I don’t answer, just open more cabinets until I find a bowl. I pour some of the soup in it, then open the utensil drawer, now that I know which one it is, and grab a spoon. I walk over to her at the breakfast bar, setting them down and look into her puffy eyes. “Crackers?”
“They’re in the pantry. Over there. But I’m really not hungry.” She sneezes, bringing up a tissue she’s holding, and dabs her eyes then blows her nose.
I turn and walk over to the long cabinets and open both doors, finding the crackers easily. I start to walk back over to her when I notice the roll of paper towels sitting in a holder on the counter and walk over and grab one. I take them over to her and set them down by her bowl. “You need to eat. Have you eaten anything all day?” She shakes her head slowly and sneezes again. “Then you’ll eat what you can.” Turning again, I walk over to my sack, take out the orange juice and other items, setting them down on the counter. I open a cabinet I had discovered held her glasses and take one out, pouring juice in it, and grab the small bottles on the counter, walking them back over to her. “Drink the juice. It’ll be good for you. I wasn’t sure what you have so I bought these.” I show her the various bottles of cold and flu medicine as I watch her take a sip of soup from her spoon. She swallows and looks up at me.
“I think it’s just a cold,” she says.
Reaching over the counter, I press the back of my hand against her forehead. “Bria. You’re burning up. Here.” I open the aspirin bottle and take out a couple and hand them to her. “Take these. Let’s see if we can get your fever down or I’m taking you to the doctor.” Worry overtakes me. I never thought I could ever feel this way about someone other than my family and friends. Concerned doesn’t even describe what I’m feeling right now. She only nods, her eyes look so sad. She must be miserable. Guilt consumes me. I didn’t even try to contact her. She’s been here all alone all day sick. “As soon as you’ve eaten a little more and drink all your juice, I’m taking you to bed.” Her eyes snap to mine, a small smile plays on her mouth. I give her a grin, which I’m sure looks sad. “To sleep.” Her smile lifts a little more.
“Okay,” she whispers, her voice so rough.
I lean my arms down on the counter and watch her eat, taking a sip of juice in between. She looks pale. I’m not sure what else I should do. I’ve never really taken care of anyone before. Finally, she sets her spoon down in the bowl of half eaten soup and tells me she can’t eat anymore. I ask her to at least finish her juice and she complies. Once done, I take her warm hand and lead her up the stairs to her bedroom, help her in bed, and bring the covers up to her neck. I bend down and brush her long hair away from her damp face and smile. “Try to get some sleep, okay? That’s probably the best medicine right now.” She nods and I stand but before I can take a step, she grabs my hand.
“Stay with me? Maybe you shouldn’t. I don’t want you to catch this.”
Those sad, watery eyes are killing me. “I’ll be back. I’m just going to go out and make a call. I won’t be long. Promise. Don’t worry about me.” She nods again and turns over onto her side, closing her eyes, and then sneezes and coughs. She sounds terrible. I wait until she stops and I see her breathing is light before I walk out of the room, pulling the door but leaving it open a crack. I walk out into the hall and down the stairs and stop when I get in the family room. Taking out my phone, I pull up my contacts and find the one I want and hit call.
“Kane. What’s wrong?”
Sheesh, she acts like I never call. Probably because I don’t often. “Mom. I’m over at Bria’s and she’s sneezing, coughing, and has a fever. I fed her soup, juice, and gave her a couple of aspirin. I’m not sure what else to do.” I’m so out of my element here. I rub my hand over my head in worry and concern. She sighs into the phone and I hear her sniff. “Are you sick too?”
“Oh, no dear. I just can’t believe how much you care about her. I’m just….” She sniffs again. Oh, boy.
“Ma.”
She sniffles again but then I hear her let out a breath. “I think you are taking excellent care of her, son. If her fever gets worse or won’t go down with the aspirin then you might want to call a doctor or depending on the time you may need to take her to the emergency room at the hospital. I’ll say some prayers that it will go down.” She’s sweet to worry.
“Thanks, Ma. I appreciate it. I got a little worried.” She sighs again and I think I hear another sniff. Women. I don’t think I’ll ever understand them. Guess I didn’t really try to before. I tell her I love her and end the call then head back upstairs to check on Bria. I just hope she feels better soon and that she doesn’t worsen. When I walk into her bedroom, I find her bed empty. Sounds emanate from her bathroom. I take off in a run. The door is cracked open a little. I push it open and see her on her knees bending over the toilet. Violent noises of her getting sick echo in the room. Without thinking, I jog over and bend on one knee, grabbing her long hair holding it back. I don’t have a weak stomach but never did I think in a million years I’d be helping out someone in this way. It’s not so bad but I feel sorry for her. Her body racks as she grips the sides of the toilet, tears stream down her face. “I’ve got ya,” I whisper. She starts dry heaving, her body shaking. I release her hair, stand, and find a wash cloth in the long cabinet beside the counter then walk over and wet it with cool water. Walking back to her, I grasp her arm, helping her up, then close the lid, push down on the handle to flush, and help her to sit. “Here. Keep this on.” I press the wash cloth against her forehead. Her hand rises and replaces mine. I walk over to the counter, find her paste in a drawer and grab her toothbrush from a small cup. Once I’ve got it ready, I take it to her. “This will help get that taste outta your mouth.” She looks up, her eyes still watery, the dark circles under them telling me how bad she feels.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I’m so embarrassed.”
I lean against the counter and smile. “Don’t be. It happens. I’m just glad I was here.”
She looks into my eyes and I swear she’s looking into my soul. “I’m glad too.”
She brushes her teeth and I put the brush back when she’s done. I help her back into bed and as she rolls over onto her side, I get undressed. I climb in behind her and put my arm around her. Bria lays her hand on mine and soon I hear her light but congested breathing.
This worrying stuff isn’t good. I don’t like it.
Chapter Twelve
Bria
A warm hand on my forehead. Then something cool replaces it. “Hmmm.” The sound leaves my mouth as my eyes flutter open. Kane is sitting on the bed next to me. A look of worry mars his handsome face. The room has darkened since I first laid down. “What time is it?” My voice is hoarse, my throat scratchy. He’s concentrating on what he’s doing but looks down at me, a small grin appears.
“Hey.” His eyes shift to my left and then back at me. “It’s around nine.” I bolt up to a sitting position, my hand pressing against my head as dizziness overtakes me. “Whoa! Go easy there,” he says in concern. The spots that had formed over my eyes are dissipating as I blink several times.
“I need to go….” I swallow hard, my severe sore throat making it difficult.
He grasps my upper arms and gently guides me back down. “You don’t need to go anywhere. In fact, if you’re not better in the morning, you’re not going to work.” My eyes widen but my heart melts with his worry.
Tough.
Caring.
Tender.
Such a contradiction but one that I find most sexy. I give him a small smile. “Being kind of bossy, aren’t you?” I receive a smile in return.
“Ha, well, if you’re a good girl and feel up to it tomorrow, I might let you work a little from your desk here at home. If not, I guess you’ll get to stay in bed.” I raise one brow and he laughs. “Sleeping.” I jet out my lower lip and pout. I swear I just heard him growl. “Better stop that.” His voice is low, rough. His eyes have darkened immensely. God, I love the way I affect him. I pull my lip back in and smile. It’s nice to know I can do that to him because it doesn’t take much for him to make me feel that way, even sick. “Are you hungry?” What a way to change the conversation quickly. My stomach takes that moment to rumble and he grins. “I’ll go make some more soup. How about a little Ginger Ale to help settle your stomach?” I give him a nod. That actually sounds really good. He reaches down and places the back of his hand to my forehead. “I think a couple more aspirin too. You feel a little cooler but still a bit warm.”
“Thank you,” I croak, placing my hand over my throat.
“For what?” His brows lower in confusion.
I reach up and cup his strong jaw, loving the feel of his soft scruff. “For taking such great care of me.” He leans into my hand for a beat then stands, my hand dropping away. I’m not sure if he’s embarrassed or just anxious to go start my soup.
“Uh, it’s no problem. You just don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”
With that, I watch him walk out of the room. I get the feeling he’s never done this before, taking care of a woman. It’s no wonder with his history. Makes me feel that much more special. I snuggle down into the mattress, still staring at the doorway he departed through. Other than Charles, I’ve never had anyone take care of me, well except when I was too young to remember much. Or even want to. Of course he’s different being my brother. But a man that I’m falling for, someone who’s never had a relationship with just one woman, a gorgeous rugged man? Never in my life did I ever dream that I’d find someone like him. A smile creeps on my face as I turn over and bring my hands up underneath the pillow, closing my eyes in contentment.
“Bria.”
A man’s voice calls to me in the depths of my dream.
“Bria. Sweetheart?”
I open my eyes slowly and look into the bright browns of Kane’s. The room is bright whereas it was night when I was waiting for him to bring me soup. I struggle to sit up. His strong hands help me to lean back against the headboard. “What time is it?” My voice is laced with sleep and still a little hoarse. I scan the room, noticing the sun peaking in through the slits of the blinds over the windows. I must have slept through the night. He reaches out and pushes my long hair over my shoulder.
“It’s just a little past eight,” he whispers.
Worry.
Concern.
“Are you feeling any better?” His brows raise in hope.
I nod and give him a smile, swallowing. My throat is dry and a little scratchy but I can tell it’s better. “A little. I just feel weak.”
Smoky jumps up on the mattress and walks over to me, snuggling into my side. “Like a kitten,” Kane whispers, looking down at her. His eyes move to mine as his brows lower. “You had me a little worried last night. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Hungry? I can whip you up some scrambled eggs and toast. I think you should eat a little light this morning.” Still taking care of me.
Suddenly, it dawns on me that it’s morning. I start to sit up and move my legs over to the side when his strong hand stops me. “I need to get to work!” I look at him and frown. “And you’re late too!”
“Hold up, baby. I talked to Brock earlier and he can be crew chief today. He’s done it before and you can miss a day.” I open my mouth to speak but am stopped again by his finger over my lips. My heart begins to race with his touch. I might be sick but I’m not dead. Oh, my God! He called me baby. “No arguments. If you feel better later, you can do some work in your office here. Irish is handling stuff at the site. Talked to her too.” He’s thought of everything.
I bow my head, my brows lower with my thoughts. I’ve never missed work. Ever. Daddy will find out. He’ll yell like he normally does. Maybe later this afternoon I can….
“Stop trying to think of a way to work and get some rest today.” I look up, surprised at how well he can read my thoughts. He smiles and my heart rate increases again. Ju
st a look does that to me. “Now….” He stands and crosses those strong arms over his chest. “Do you want to eat in the kitchen or I can bring you a tray?” He’s all matter of fact and I can’t help but smile, feeling cared for, for the first time in years.
“I’d like to eat out there, a change of scenery.”
He nods curtly. “Okay. I’ll go get started.” I start to climb out of bed when he speaks again. “If you feel lightheaded or anything, you holler at me. Okay?” I look up and nod. “I mean it, Bria. You don’t have to do everything yourself. I’m here.” I stand and take the couple of steps to him and look up. His chest is so broad, muscular. Tattoos on his large arms peek out from the sleeves of the t-shirt he’s wearing. He stands a few inches taller than me, that dark scruff on his face and short soft hair that I’d love to run my fingers through is making me feel better by the moment.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He leans down and kisses my cheek then stands back up and rubs his thumb over where he kissed. I watch him walk out of my room and stay frozen. Even sick, I can feel the wetness between my legs. God, I hope I get well fast and that he’ll want to have sex soon. What? Where did that thought come from? Oh, yeah, I’m more than ready. I think. I walk into my closet and slip on my robe then head to the bathroom, brush my teeth and ratty hair, relieve myself and wash my hands. I look at myself in the mirror. “Oh, my God. I got sick in front of him last night.” Memories wash over me. Embarrassment fills me. He was so kind, so gentle. He didn’t hesitate to hold my hair back, get me a cool wash cloth, and my toothbrush. He took care of me, didn’t even think about it. My feelings change to something else, something I’ve never felt for a man before. God, I’ve fallen so deeply for him. My eyes focus in on my face. “I’m so pale,” I say to my reflection. I pinch my cheeks and flip off the light on my way out. Once downstairs, the aroma filling the air makes my stomach growl as I walk into the kitchen. There’s nothing like seeing a strong, muscular man cooking. Cue stomach growl again. He turns his head, his smile evident.