Playing Doctor

by Cathy Yardley

  She shrugged. “It helps.”

  “Tell you what,” he said. “You stay right here. I’m going to find a rest stop for the night…”

  “Already?” She bit the corner of her lip, worrying at it with even, white teeth. “I don’t mean to make us stop earlier. I’m already feeling kind of better…”

  But she was still pale, and he could feel a tremor go through her. If he wasn’t resolved before, he was damned well determined now.

  “Hush,” he said. “We’ll stop. I’ll make us something easy to eat, and then we’ll get you set up, okay?”

  She blinked. “Did you just tell me to hush?”

  He grinned at the irritated surprise in her voice. “Yes, I told you to hush, woman,” he teased. “Just hang in there and let Sugar Daddy take care of everything.”

  She let out a snort of laughter, then her eyes widened as if the sound itself startled her. He chuckled in response.

  “Just hang in there, okay?” He climbed out, closing the door. He felt the grin slide off of his face and he moved back to the driver’s seat.

  She’s having a mother of an anxiety attack.

  It was all well and good to treat someone when you knew you were headed to a hospital. She’d taken freakin’ Trazadone, and it had just taken the edge off. He was seriously worried about her health and safety.

  Am I doing the right thing here? He didn’t know if he could take care of her. He didn’t even know if he was doing this to help her, or if he was doing this because he wanted the treasure for himself.

  Just keep driving, he told himself. He’d worry about the morality later, when they were closer. She was a grown woman, and she’d made a choice. He was going to help her as best he could. And when they got to the treasure… well, he’d see what happened then.

  Whatever you’ve got to tell yourself, his conscience pricked. He ignored it.

  Chapter 5

  Cressida felt guilty that they were stopping so soon. She felt like she was getting a grip on the anxiety – the worst seemed to be passing, even though her mind was still going a mile a minute. Still, she felt the RV pull over, heard him talking to a camp master as he settled the bill and then maneuvered them to their spot.

  At least he hadn’t turned around. She couldn’t afford that. She really felt like, if she got close enough to the location, she’d be able to find the treasure. It’d be hard, but she was managing this far.

  Are you, though? Are you really?

  She grimaced at her self-defeating thoughts. She’d known this was going to be hard. She just hoped that Noah was patient with her, and didn’t get too pissed about stopping.

  He knocked on the door. “Ready for something to eat? You missed lunch.”

  She cleared her throat. “Um, yes,” she said, even as her stomach started to growl.

  He opened the door. “Did you want to eat at the dining room table, or in here?”

  She thought about it. It probably wasn’t smart to eat where she slept, but the enclosed, darkened space was definitely more comforting, and while she was feeling better, she didn’t want to risk looking out the windows. Maybe if the blinds were shut?

  “Don’t worry, I’ll bring it in here,” he said, before she could answer. Then he grabbed a paper bag. “I got you a turkey sandwich with the works – hope that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, feeling grateful, reaching for the wrapped sub. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Oh! And hold on a second.” He put the other sandwich down near her, and then went back to the main cabin. In minutes, he’d brought out a laptop. He opened it and fired it up. “I’ve got my mobile hotspot going, so… voila. YouTube!”

  She blinked. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble!”

  “Will it help you feel better?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Then it’s no trouble.” He paused. “Okay if I climb in there next to you?”

  She bit her lip, then nodded. He stretched out next to her, and the space seemed even smaller – which, for her, was actually a good thing. She was very aware of him, his clean, masculine scent, the way his muscles moved. Her mouth went dry for a minute, and she swallowed hard.

  He didn’t seem to notice her moment of sheer, unadulterated thirst, thank God. Instead, he was unwrapping his sandwich – ham, she saw – and took a bite. “So, what Doctor Who clips do you usually watch?”

  “Best River Song moments compendium,” she answered quickly, unwrapping her own sandwich and taking a bite. She should’ve eaten something before, she realized, but it was hard to enforce self-care like eating and drinking when she dipped too low in a panic attack. Now, she realized she was voracious. She took big bites, chewing gratefully.

  He reached into the bag, pulling out two cans of soda. She took a lemon-lime, and he took the cola. Then he called up the video.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, as she felt her blood sugar levels even out and the anxiety truly backed off. “You’ve done so much for me.”

  “We’re a team,” he said, and the matter-of-fact tone of his was just as comforting as the food and the videos – maybe even a little more.

  They spent the next hour or so in companionable silence, watching videos and finishing up dinner. She felt cozy and sleepy. “I’m sorry you had to stop so soon to take care of me,” she said.

  He turned to her, his dark brown eyes serious. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “First of all, it’s the decent thing to do. Second, I won’t be able to find the treasure without you.”

  She started to protest, but he held up a hand.

  “It’s the truth,” he said bluntly. “You’ve been the one that has hunted down the clues, that got the confirmation.”

  “I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t pushed to turn it in,” she said.

  “That’s my job. Getting you to where you need to go,” he said, and there was a look of determination on his face that she hadn’t seen before, a glint of resolve in his gaze. “And you’re agreeing to split the treasure with me. So you don’t need to thank me.”

  Her stomach twisted a little. “Because this is transactional?”

  He huffed, looking a little hurt. “No, because we’re friends and we’re partners. I can’t do this without you, you can’t do this without me. We need each other. So we help each other.”

  She mulled over his words as he cleaned up the food wrappers and soda cans. He popped back. “Do you want to be alone for a while?”

  Ordinarily she would’ve said yes, but she was still feeling shaky. “I wouldn’t mind company,” she heard herself say. “That is, if you don’t mind?”

  His smile was slow and warmed her all the way down to her toes. “I don’t mind,” he said. And he climbed back next to her.

  She was pressed up against his side, watching the video. She kind of wanted to lean against him more, maybe rest her head against his shoulder. She’d never done that with anyone before. Hell, she was twenty-five years old, and she hadn’t so much as been kissed. It was an embarrassing state of affairs.

  Want to help me out with that?

  She was attracted to him, wildly so. But he was already being so generous with his time. He was her partner – but that didn’t mean she could take advantage of him.

  She shifted uncomfortably. He chuckled at something River said. Then he stretched out, propping his head up on his bent elbow. It put his head close to her lap.

  “Got enough room?” she asked.

  “Sure. You okay with this?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice to stay steady. She watched the laptop blindly. Fortunately, she’d seen these clips a million times.

  When it turned dark, around ten o’clock, he yawned. “I’m going to grab a shower and then hit the sack. Hopefully we’ll get started early tomorrow,” he said.

  She nodded, feeling frustrated and wound up and wrung out from her earlier anxious episode. “Okay.”

  He looked at her for a second, studying her, the
n he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “If you need anything, or you’re freaking out or anything, wake me up, okay? Really. Anything.”

  She thought her cheek would spontaneously catch fire. She resisted the impulse to rub her fingertips over the skin where his lips had made contact. “Okay,” she repeated, her voice sounding breathless to her own ears.

  He winked at her, then closed the compartment. She rolled over, burying her head in her pillow.

  She’d met guys in the store before, and Hailey had attempted a few hook-ups and set ups. But she’d never wanted anyone, not like she currently wanted Noah.

  There was too much going on. They were going to be stuck in this RV for over a week – what if she misinterpreted something? What if she made a move – if she even knew how to make a move – and he rejected her?

  No. She needed to lock this down. She was feeling gratitude because he’d taken care of her, she scolded herself. And yeah, she was attracted – she’d have to be blind and crazy not to want somebody that frickin’ hot. But she wasn’t going to do anything about it, and that was that.

  Okay, you’re going to need to knock this shit off right now.

  In the tiny shower, Noah rubbed his hand over his face. He was glad that Cressida seemed to be getting over the panic attack. He honestly wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if she’d gotten worse. He’d seen panic attack victims struggling, taking these huge gulping breaths, their hands curled in on themselves, their eyes wild and whirling. He’d probably have to take her to an E.R. or something if that was the case. But she’d known to take her meds, and she’d tried her damnedest to keep the attack from him. He was just happy that he could make it easier on her.

  But then he’d stretched out next to her, breathing her honeysuckle scent (yeah, he’d asked) and sneaking glimpses of her as she sat against the back wall of the RV, watching the video with an absent expression. And his stupid little crush, the one he’d been tending online, was blowing up into a full-blown infatuation. Which, being honest, was the last thing either of them needed right now.

  She’s got her own issues, and you’re both trying to get four million dollars. Good fences make good neighbors, idiot. Don’t mess this up.

  He stroked his hand down his own body where his dick was currently at half-mast. He thought briefly about rubbing a quick one out, just to take the edge off, but this wasn’t his RV, and he felt weird about jacking off with Cressida right on the other side of the thin wall. Especially when he knew he’d be thinking of her. That seemed wrong. So he shifted the water to as cold as he could stand it, quickly killing his ardor.

  He was shivering when he dried off. Then he headed out, towel wrapped around him, to change into his sleep gear of sweats and a t-shirt.

  “Oh!”

  He paused, holding the towel that had just about fallen off him. “Sorry. Sorry!” He said in rapid succession.

  Cressida was standing in the main compartment, her eyes round as dinner plates. She’d gotten a good eyeful of his towel-clad body – good thing he’d taken the icy shower, or it’d be more than an eyeful – and now she was studiously trying to look everywhere but his towel.

  “I, um, was just waiting for you to finish in the bathroom,” she said, her face flaming.

  He would have laughed at the way she avoided looking at him – his bare chest, the towel, even his face – if his body hadn’t perked up again at her attention. He shifted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take that long.”

  “No! No, it’s fine.”

  He took that moment to look her over. She’d obviously changed into her own sleepwear – a short, sage-green nightshirt that hugged her curves while leaving her long legs bare. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her face was naked of makeup. He could see the dark auburn of her long lashes beneath the gentle arch of her eyebrows.

  He gestured. “Be my guest. I’ll just be out here changing.”

  Her gaze darted to the towel again, and his cock nudged the terrycloth in response before he could stop it. He turned away like he’d been burned.

  “I’ll be quick,” he said, with forced cheerfulness.

  “Okay.”

  She had to edge around him, brushing against him slightly as she opened the door to the bathroom then closed it behind her. His body was on high alert. He could still smell the faint whiff of her perfume in the small room.

  He peeled off the towel and quickly threw on the T-shirt and the sweatpants without boxers. It had been six months or so since he’d slept with anyone – okay, maybe closer to a year, he thought. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while before that. His life had been work, his mom, and the treasure hunt – which meant Cressida. He was now getting dangerously wound up in her.

  After a few minutes, she stepped out, her eyes bright, her face dewy fresh from a quick washing. “Well,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” he replied. He shouldn’t have kissed her on the cheek. She’d just looked so damned cute, and it had been an impulse. One he now both regretted and wished he could repeat – maybe moving a little further this time.

  He watched as she retreated to the sleeping cabin, shutting the door. Then he sighed, lowering the dining table and making up the bed. He shut off the lights, then climbed in, tossing and turning, trying not to make too much noise.

  Should’ve jacked off in the shower, he thought ruefully. Because he was going to have a hell of a time trying to sleep tonight.

  Cressida spent at least an hour tossing and turning, even though she felt exhaustion in every muscle in her body. Her brain was quieting, finally, but she still couldn’t quite get to sleep. She blamed Noah. Specifically, she blamed Noah in that towel. She should’ve packed bigger bath sheets, because seeing him in just that towel left very little to the imagination – and what it did leave to the imagination, she imagined. She was getting overheated just thinking about it.

  She rolled over, groaning softly and putting the pillow over her head. She’d never been in this position before. She knew getting involved with him would be a bad idea, because of their close quarters and because of the treasure. But at the same time, she’d been crushing on him for well over a year. He was a good friend – probably yet another reason why she shouldn’t be thinking of him in such blatantly sexual terms. And to top it all off, she was a virgin. Sure, she’d had fun times with the vibrator she’d purchased off the internet, but when it came to men, she had zero experience. The kiss on the cheek she’d gotten from Noah earlier was probably the most action she’d gotten ever.

  Imagine what a real kiss would feel like!

  She frowned at herself. No, don’t imagine. Ixnay on the imagining. The last thing she needed was to continue fixating on Noah.

  Although she had to admit, her little obsession with Noah was serving as a great distraction from the bigger fears in her life – namely, that she was further away from the house than she’d been since she moved from L.A. to Snoqualmie, back when Hailey’s grandmother had adopted her after she’d found Cressida and Hailey living in a dangerous foster home. Grandma Frost had been a thoughtful, caring, wonderful person, and she’d understood Cressida like nobody ever had before. Instead of trying to force Cressida to leave the house or thinking of her as mentally deficient, she’d homeschooled her, helped her get to doctors when she could, and never judged her. Grandma Frost, Hailey, and Rachel were her family, even if not by blood. She loved them.

  Grandma Frost had never been able to afford to live in the house that they’d shared, although she’d wistfully dreamed of doing just that. Now, Cressida could purchase the house if she just didn’t blow it by doing something stupid like getting sidetracked by her crush on Noah.

  At around three o’clock she finally drifted off. She dreamed of the first time she’d seen the house – when Grandma Frost had brought her there, showing her the room she still lived in to this day. At the time, she’d gone directly to the closet, trying not to dive into it, a
lthough she’d desperately wanted to. She was still pretty drugged from the flight up from Los Angeles to Seattle, which was the only way they could get her to travel. Still, she’d found the room cozy and comforting. Once Grandma Frost had given her some privacy, she’d taken a pillow and the thick comforter from the twin bed, and she’d curled up in the closet.

  The dream morphed on her. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the closet at Grandma Frost’s house. She was in the closet in her childhood home – the one before the parade of foster homes, the one before she’d ever even met Hailey Frost.

  There was noise. She remembered that. Her parents had had a big fight that night. Her mother had threatened, as she had in the past, to kill Cressida and then kill herself, just to make her father sorry. Her father had yelled back that her mother was selfish, that she was bluffing. But Cressida didn’t think her mother was bluffing. She might be only eight years old, but she’d seen just how serious her mother could be. The first time her father had left, going off to live with some girlfriend, her mother had taken a hammer and systematically broken every picture in the house with it, cutting up the back of her hands with the shards of glass that had flown off. Cressida had tried her best to clean up without getting cut herself. She’d also sleepwalked. Cressida had woken up to her mother sobbing over her, next to the bed.

  Now, over a year later, Cressida had her own security system. She’d taken yarn from one of the long balls in her mother’s craft room, tied one end to the door knob of her bedroom, and then run it around various items – her desk chair, the legs of her nightstand, the poster of her bed – until it reached under the closet door. She tied the other end to her wrist. She now slept in the closet, but if her mother ever came in, for whatever reason, she’d know.

  She didn’t know what she’d be able to do if her mother decided to hurt her. She didn’t think she could hurt her mother – she didn’t want to think about that possibility. Still, she’d grabbed her father’s old baseball bat from the garage. He didn’t notice it was missing. She thought maybe she could at least stop her mother or distract her, maybe have a chance to run away…