Her gaze lifted to the rearview mirror and she watched as Clint took a few steps after her before collapsing to his knees in the dirt.
“Oh, come on,” she yelled. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
Still, guilt twisted her stomach into a painful knot and she jerked her gaze back to the road, even though she was close to hitting the brakes.
You’re not a camper, she reminded herself. She was never here willingly, and damn it she had nothing to feel guilty about. Absolutely nothing.
She focused again on the narrow dirt road that the SUV moved down. She eased up on the gas pedal, the constant bouncing inside the vehicle clearly an indication this was a road you didn’t want to go too fast down.
Once she’d slowed down to less than twenty miles per hour, the ride wasn’t quite as rough.
She stared at the road ahead of her, wishing she’d been awake when Clint had first taken her out to the campsite. Because where the hell she was God only knew.
Images of Clint on his knees on the earthy ground of the campsite flashed in her head. He’d looked pitiful. So helpless.
She drew in an unsteady breath as her throat tightened.
And this was just the first day of his symptoms. When she’d had it the nasty stuff hadn’t hit until about the second day. At that point she’d been pretty much incapacitated. Which meant Clint would pretty much be screwed in the morning.
But it wasn’t like she was ditching him completely. She’d send help. He’d be fine.
Swallowing the lump of guilt in her throat, she clenched her fingers tighter around the steering wheel and pressed down harder on the gas.
Chapter Thirteen
He was going to die. Alone and sick, on the hard ground of this campsite.
Clint’s knees shook and he fell to the side, sprawling out on the dirt floor. He breathed in the earthy, familiar sent of nature before his nostrils clogged and his sinuses started to throb. His throat burned and dizziness swirled in his head.
It had finally happened. She’d stolen his SUV to run home to Kenneth. And now he was going to die.
He never got sick. Never. Rolling his head to the side, he gauged the distance between him and the tent, whimpering like a damn puppy.
One thing was certain. He couldn’t very well pass out right here on the ground. He’d likely end up bitten by a dozen mosquitoes—or maybe like Allie had feared—eaten by a ravenous bear.
With a groan he pulled himself to his feet and took a small step toward the tent. He spotted a piece of paper on one of the chairs and stumbled over to read it. Cursing, he tossed it into the fire and made his way back to the tent. Sweat beaded on his brow and nausea rolled through him.
He ground his teeth together and forced himself to take another step. He reached the tent and leaned down to climb inside. Another rage of thirst swept through him and he gave a weak curse. Damn. She’d tossed him a bottle of water, but he hadn’t grabbed it.
His gaze shifted to the chair near the fire and he spotted a half drunk bottle. How come he hadn’t seen that thirty seconds ago?
It was only about twenty feet away, but it might as well have been a few miles.
He sighed and moved into the tent, just barely making it the few steps to the bed before he collapsed again onto the mattress.
The scent of Allison tickled his nostrils and he closed his eyes, realizing his head rested on her pillow.
She’d left him. His lips twitched weakly, but it was hard to find the energy to be amused. Not that he was really surprised she’d up and left. More that he hadn’t been able to stop her. If he hadn’t been so damn sick it never would have happened. She wouldn’t have gotten within two feet of his SUV with his keys. But she had. And now she was gone.
The pulsing ache in his body intensified. He groaned aloud, a long and pitiful sound that sounded more like a frog getting strangled.
He closed his eyes and waited for the oblivion of sleep to overtake him. Finally, it happened.
When he woke later, it was dark outside. His brows drew together as he tried to discover what had woken him.
The sound of shuffling came from outside the tent and he froze. Christ. Maybe it was a bear. He hadn’t even cleaned up the muffin he’d left on the ground after breakfast.
More clanging sounded and he groaned and managed to prop himself up on the bed. Definitely a bear, he decided. Then came the high-pitched, “Shit.”
His blood slowed, before speeding right back up.
“Allie?” Her name on his lips was barely audible, even to him. There was no way she could have heard him.
He lay back on the blankets and waited, staring at the canopy of the tent and wishing to God the pounding in his head would subside.
Before long the tent flap lifted and the beam of a flashlight honed in on him. He blinked, his pupils burning from the bright light.
“Hey,” he croaked. “Watch the light—”
“Good. You’re awake. Get your butt out of bed and into the back of SUV.”
He struggled to sit up again. “What?”
“I can’t very well tear down the tent with you inside it, so get out.”
“You want to tear down—”
“God, you sound like you’ve been gargling nails.” She sighed and climbed into the tent.
He gave a soft grunt, the effort to talk too much again.
Allison reached his side then leaned down to take his arm and help him off the bed.
Embarrassed by his own weakness, he just barely resisted the urge to snarl that he didn’t need her help. But damn it, he did.
In the dark their gazes met and held.
“You came back,” he finally managed to ask. “Why?”
She lowered her lashes and harrumphed. “Because even if you did kidnap me and take me camping, I still have a fucking conscience. Now let’s just get you back into the car so I can get this campsite torn down.”
“Do you know how?”
“I’ll figure it out. Stop talking. I can barely understand you and I know it hurts like hell.”
Really? And how the hell did she know that? The snarky reply had to make do in his head since it would have drained him to make it aloud.
With her help they moved across the campsite to his SUV, which she’d backed up almost to the fire pit.
She tugged open the back door and tossed a pillow in on the seat.
“Lie down on the seat and make yourself comfortable. Hopefully this will only take a few minutes.”
He grabbed her wrist, weak in his movements, but it still halted her from leaving.
“Water?” he begged.
She gave a slight nod then pulled away, moving around back to grab him a water. She quickly twisted off the lid and handed him the lukewarm bottle.
He downed it easily in a few swallows before falling back against the pillow.
“I’ll be back shortly,” she muttered and turned away.
Disbelief mixed with self-pity as he watched her through the open door. Before his eyes she took apart the campsite. Deflated the bed, folded it up and hauled it back to the SUV. Then went back, jerking up stakes and getting the tent down.
Hmm. And this from a woman who’d never camped in her adult life. Probably fifteen minutes passed before she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
“You’ll have to come back for the canoe. I wasn’t about to try and get that loaded onto your car.”
He cleared his throat and winced at the resulting pain. “Where are we—?”
“To your place. So don’t fall asleep, because your ass needs to tell me exactly where we’re going.”
The vehicle swerved to the left as she narrowly missed a deer sprinting across the road.
“Damn animals are road hazards,” she muttered.
His chest bounced with a silent laugh and he closed his eyes, drowsy again.
“Don’t you go to sleep on me.”
He opened his eyes and looked up. Her gaze stared back at him in the r
earview mirror.
“I mean it. I have no idea how to get out of this overgrown park.”
His mouth tightened. Which was probably why she’d come back for him in the first place.
“Not like that’s why I came back for you.”
Right. Then what were her reasons? Sympathy? Ha. More like guilt.
“I just,” she cleared her throat. “Didn’t much care for the idea of getting slapped with a manslaughter charge.”
She thought he would have died out there? He tilted his head and gave a slight nod. Well, actually, he’d begun to think he’d die out there with the way he felt.
“Not like you actually would have died. But, yeah.” She sighed. “How far away from your house are we?”
He opened his mouth to answer.
“No, don’t talk. Use your fingers. How many hours?”
He held up one finger.
“Okay. That’s not so bad.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “I’ll stop off at a convenience station or something before we get there.”
He shook his head, wondering if she would even see him.
Her gaze lifted. “What? There is a gas station or something, right?”
He kept shaking his head.
“How much further is one of those?”
Pursing his lips, he debated how to say fifteen minutes past his house without moving his lips.
“Oh never mind. We can figure it out in the morning.”
He sat up slightly and looked around. “Turn right.”
“What? Where?” she looked around.
“There,” he croaked, pointing to a small turn off barely visible.
She slowed the SUV down and turned onto the road. Satisfied that she’d obeyed him without hesitation, he relaxed again, making himself comfortable to guide her the rest of the way to his house.
By the time they reached his place it had to be close to ten.
He sat up from the backseat, the effort double what it should have been. His back ached from the position he’d forced himself into, and his head throbbed something fierce.
“This is it?” She turned off the engine and sat staring at his house in silence.
He gave a short nod. What was she thinking? That it looked like some hillbilly log cabin in the middle of nowhere? He grimaced as he pulled open the door and slid out. But then maybe his home was somewhat a mix of that.
The two-story home was essentially an overgrown log cabin, and it was fifteen miles to the nearest town.
“No bright streetlight to help me get you inside either,” she grumbled and climbed out after him.
He shook his head and limped toward the front door.
“Hang on.” She rushed after him and grabbed his arm. “The last thing I want you doing is falling over from exhaustion.”
He gave her a fierce scowl, even as he let her absorb some of his weight. The soft curve of her breast rubbed against his arm as the familiar scent of her tickled his nostrils—well, the one that wasn’t plugged.
“Which one is your house key?” She held up his key ring to him.
Clint plucked it from her hand, locating the one that would open his front door.
She took it back and fumbled to get it in the door. He grimaced, realizing he should’ve done it. In the dark she was pretty much doing everything by touch.
“There we go.” She twisted the knob and pushed open the door. Her hand moved over the wall until she found the switch and flipped it up, soft light flooded the room.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
His lips curled and he turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
“Okay, you’re sick.” She got up in his face and glared. “Stop thinking about sex for one minute, would you?”
He gave a half shrug and pointed.
“I have to get you up those stairs?” Her eyes widened and she glanced toward the spiraling wood staircase against the far wall.
Irritation finally pricked. Why had she insisted on helping him out if she was going to bitch the entire time?
“I can get up the stairs myself.” Just saying the sentence left his throat raw and hoarse, but it did a little something for his pride.
He brushed off her arm and made his way toward the stairs himself.
“No, Clint, I’m sorry. Hang on.”
With a wave of dismissal, he took the first step up to the bedroom loft on the second floor.
“Okay, umm,” she sighed, “I’ll make you some tea.”
Halfway up the steps, his gaze drifted down to her. Tea? Did he even have tea? And if he did would he honestly drink it?
“Beer?” he countered hoarsely.
“I am not getting you a damn beer,” she shouted in disbelief. “You’re sick and you want beer? Argh. Get your butt in bed before I give it the kicking it deserves.”
He sighed and forced himself up the last few steps. Beer had sounded pretty good, actually. The alcohol might have had a numbing affect on his throat.
After tugging his T-shirt over his head, he pushed down his jeans and kicked them to the floor, naked now except for his boxers. The effort of undressing drained what little energy he had left, and he stumbled the last few feet to his bed.
Collapsing onto the mattress, he dragged a blanket over him, surprised at how cold he suddenly was.
His eyelids fluttered a few times, before he gave in and just let them close.
He must have drifted off into sleep because the next thing he knew Allison was gently touching his shoulder.
“Hey,” she said softly when his lids opened again.
He gave a weak nod in response.
Her brows drew together in a frown and she lowered a hand to his forehead.
“You’re burning up.”
The concern in her hazel eyes tugged at his gut and weakened him emotionally a little. Made him want to give in to the miserable bug that had invaded his body and encourage Allison’s sympathy for him. His inner eight-year-old was suddenly ripe and ready to be nurtured.
“You look terrible.” She shook her head and tried to remove her hand, but he caught her wrist, not ready to lose that contact. “Please, let me get you some Tylenol or something.”
“In a minute,” he rasped. “Please. Stay.”
Reluctance and hesitation flickered in her gaze, “First take a sip of tea.”
She held the mug in front of his lips.
He scowled, but obediently blew on the steaming liquid before taking a small sip.
“One more.”
He glared at her.
“Come on, or I leave.”
Control freak. He held her gaze and drank another sip, then patted the mattress next to him.
She sighed, looked around the room, as if trying to figure out a way out of this, then sat down.
He scooted over to make more room for her on the queen-sized bed. She slid further in and sat up with her back propped against the wood carved headboard.
Without realizing that he was even moving, he moved his head onto her lap. Allison’s hand smoothed back his hair and she sighed.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did last night,” he rasped. “About the wedding. I’m sorry.”
She stilled in her movements of smoothing his hair and he closed his eyes, wondering what she was thinking. Just getting the apology out had literally hurt like hell.
“It’s all right. I acted pretty shitty too,” she said softly.
Relief swept through him, but he didn’t answer. Was too busy trying not to think about the softness of her thigh and how close his face was to her—
“Clint.”
“Hmm?” was all he managed to grunt in response.
“Never mind…” Her fingers slid upward and into his hair. “You have soft hair. Great guy hair.”
Great guy hair? Women thought about men’s hair that much? Hell, men didn’t think about men’s hair that much, did they? Or maybe that was just him.
“I really should get you those meds, Clint.”
“Stay.
” His fingers curled into her jeans and he pressed his head harder against her. As if the weight of his head alone could keep her pinned down.
She didn’t move though. He could sense the tension that had filtered into her body slowly ease again.
“Go to sleep, Clint. I’ll stay until you pass out.” She resumed stroking his forehead. “Then I’m going downstairs and watching that big ass TV hanging on your wall.”
His chest bounced with a silent laugh.
“I wouldn’t think you’d want some big flat screen in your house if you’re such an outdoors guy. But you know what they say…boys and their toys.”
Pretty much. Wait until she discovered his Wii. He didn’t play it all that often, but some days he needed a little entertainment since he was so isolated out here.
“You asleep yet?”
He lifted his head and gave her an incredulous look.
She made a face and laughed. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”
He arched an eyebrow and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll shut up. But you go to sleep. My legs are going to cramp.” She yawned.
Lowering his head back to her lap, he almost wished for that Tylenol. His throat had gone raw and his head still pounded. But that would mean Allison would have to get up and his face would be planted back on the pillow instead of her soft thigh.
His lips twitched. Screw the pills. He closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. It didn’t matter. He could fake it and enjoy the moment.
Allison could tell the minute he finally passed out. The fingers that had been gripping her jeans relaxed and his breathing evened out. It only took a few minutes really, and truth be told she was a little bummed to scoot him off her.
He didn’t even stir, just settled against the pillow she placed his head on.
She slid off the bed and wrapped her arms around her waist, staring down at him. Hearing him apologize for his comment after they’d made love was such a relief. Lifted a huge weight off her heart.
You’re too easy.
Shaking her head, she turned and walked back down the spiral staircase to the downstairs. Her gaze drifted around the house and she drew in a sigh of content. Gorgeous. This house was straight out of some backwoods living magazine or something. So cozy and homey, and yet furnished with all the comfort and technology you’d expect to see in a bachelor pad.
Seducing Allie: Seattle Steam, Book 3 Page 14