by Jenna Sutton
Nick shook his head. He was afraid of what he’d do if he ever came face-to-face with the man Teagan was dating.
“Maybe you should check him out,” Quinn suggested. “That’s what we’d do if we lived in Boston.”
Somehow Nick resisted the urge to bang his head against the table. Apparently, Teagan wasn’t the only person in the O’Brien family who thought he should play the role of big brother.
“She’s not my sister,” he growled.
Cal’s eyes narrowed. “That’s true. But you can watch out for her . . . make sure he’s a decent guy. Although I personally think she’s way too smart to get involved with an asshole.”
Nick’s phone buzzed again, and he grabbed it before Quinn or Cal could. They were nosy bastards.
It was another text from Teagan. You’re going to have to sign my jersey when you get back. It will be a collector’s item!
He laughed quietly. It was nice to think he’d be remembered in history books even if it was just for catching a football.
Another text popped up, also from Teagan. It will be so valuable I won’t be able to sleep in it anymore!
She sleeps in my jersey?
He groaned under his breath. He knew what he was going to dream about tonight.
Chapter 15
Nick checked his phone again, wondering why Teagan hadn’t texted him back. He’d sent her messages for a couple of days with no reply. He didn’t think he’d done anything to make her angry, so why was she ignoring him? He didn’t know if he should be pissed or worried.
He pulled open the door to Teagan’s building, relieved to escape the bitter cold. Boston was in the throes of a winter storm, which wasn’t unusual for mid-February. It was so frigid ice crystals had formed in the corners of his eyes as he’d made the short walk from his Escalade to her building.
Joe, the part-time concierge, came around his reception desk to greet Nick. A huge smile covered his face, and his bald head gleamed under the overhead lights.
“Mr. Priest,” he exclaimed, grabbing Nick’s right hand and pumping it enthusiastically. “Congratulations on winning the Super Bowl. You’ve made us proud!”
He smiled, returning the man’s handshake. Joe had always been very accommodating, letting him come in and out of the building without checking in even though visitors were supposed to be monitored.
“I haven’t seen Miss O’Brien for a couple of days,” Joe said. “I’m not sure she’s home.”
Nick frowned, wondering where Teagan could be. It was the middle of the semester, and she had classes to attend.
Nodding his thanks to Joe, he headed toward the elevators. He’d returned from Miami a little more than a week ago. The city of Boston had thrown a big parade to celebrate the Colonials’ win, and since then, he’d tried to lie low.
It was always awkward when fans approached him. He was happy to sign autographs and pose for pictures, but all too often they wanted to talk with him. He knew they thought he was rude when he didn’t respond to their questions, and it was better to avoid those situations altogether.
He had wanted to see Teagan as soon as he had arrived in Boston, and he’d been patient as long as he could. He had waited and waited for her to respond to his texts, and finally he’d decided to just drop in on her. He’d made up his mind to wait if she wasn’t home because it had been way too damn long since he had seen her.
Once he reached the sixth floor, he made his way to her condo and knocked loudly on the door. He pressed his ear to it, trying to determine if anyone moved around inside the unit.
He heard nothing but silence, so he banged on the door with the end of his fist instead of his knuckles. He kept at it for a minute or so, but dropped his hand when the door stayed stubbornly closed. Resting his hands on his hips, he looked up at the ceiling, trying to control the desire to pound on the door with both fists.
Where the hell is Teagan?
Grabbing his phone from the pocket of his jeans, he opened the text screen. He furiously typed a message to Quinn. Maybe her older brother knew where she was.
Just as he finished the message and hit the Send button, Teagan’s door swung open. Looking up, he saw her leaning against the door frame. Her fuzzy green robe hung open over a pair of cream-colored flannel pajamas printed with tiny pink flowers, and thick gray socks covered her feet.
Her hair was pulled back haphazardly, and it was dull instead of shiny like usual. Her face was flushed, her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, and her nose was pink and raw-looking.
She clutched a box of tissues in the crook of her arm, and except for a cough syrup commercial on TV, he’d never seen anyone look so sick and pathetic. He stepped forward, and she held out her hand like a traffic cop.
“Nick,” she croaked. “You need to stay away. I don’t want to make you sick.”
“Flu?”
“I think so. Everyone at school seems to have it.”
Raising her arm, she coughed into her elbow, a hoarse, hacking noise that made him wince. She sounded horrible.
“You should go. I’m a human petri dish.” She pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her nose. “I’ll text you when I’m better, and we can go to a hockey game or something.”
He studied her as she swayed a little on her feet. He didn’t want to leave her like this. What if she needed something? She was too sick to go out in this kind of weather.
“Do you have medicine? Food?”
She pressed her lips together, and he noticed they were chapped. She was a mess.
“I’m okay,” she replied, which didn’t answer his question.
He suspected she was lying just so he’d leave. She clearly didn’t want company.
She sneezed into her tissue before letting out a tired sigh. “See you later,” she said and then closed the door in his face.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the door, before sending a text to Quinn to let him know he’d located Teagan. Next he scrolled through his contacts, found Letty’s name, and fired off a text to her asking what kind of supplies he should buy for Teagan.
Ten minutes later, he stood in the cold and flu aisle of the closest grocery store. Apparently the whole damn city was sick, because it was almost cleaned out.
He checked Letty’s list and grabbed some ibuprofen and acetaminophen from the shelf, along with some cough syrup and a decongestant she had recommended. He added some Vicks VapoRub, cough drops, lip balm, and a heating pad before heading to the grocery section.
He didn’t know what Teagan had stocked in the condo, so he filled the cart with all kinds of food, including ready-made soup, crackers, and juice. He grabbed a six-pack of beer for himself and headed to the checkout.
On the way there, he passed by the floral department and saw a sign that read “Don’t forget Valentine’s Day” and a countdown board that showed there was only one day left. He stopped and looked around, surprised he hadn’t noticed all the roses and balloons when he’d walked in.
He wondered if Teagan had made plans with Marshall to celebrate the most romantic day of the year, and he was ashamed when he realized he was glad she was too sick to go out with the other man.
I’m a selfish bastard.
Pushing his cart closer to one of the displays, he picked up a fluffy white teddy bear. The stuffed animal held a red velvet heart with “Adore Me” embroidered on it, and its fur was really soft.
He tossed the bear into his cart and evaluated the roses. He reached for a bouquet of red roses before jerking his hand back. Even he knew red roses meant passion. He looked around, trying to find a bouquet of yellow roses for friendship but didn’t see any. Guess no one bought yellow roses for Valentine’s Day.
Standing with his hands on his hips, he considered his other color choices: pink or lavender. The pink roses were pretty. They reminded him of Teagan’s lips. But he really like
d the lavender roses better.
He picked up a bouquet and read the label, which told him that lavender roses meant enchantment. He laughed softly, shaking his head.
Who comes up with this bullshit?
* * *
Teagan rolled over, moaning as pain shot through her head. She could barely think it hurt so badly. And she was cold, so cold her bones ached. She felt so awful she wanted to cry, but she didn’t have the energy. She coughed and was startled by how awful it sounded.
She heard a rustle and froze. Is someone in my bedroom? The lamp on the bedside table flared to life, and she gasped when she saw Nick standing next to her bed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice so hoarse it was barely audible.
She struggled to sit up, and he bent down to help her, holding her up with one hand while he arranged her pillows behind her with the other. As he removed his hand, she fell back against the pillows.
Reaching out, he pressed four tablets of varying colors and sizes into her hand. She stared at the drugs, her mind foggy.
“Take them, T,” he directed, plucking a glass of water from the nightstand.
She tossed the pills into her mouth, and he held the glass to her lips, tipping it to give her the water she needed to wash them down. Her throat was so sore she had a hard time swallowing.
Returning the glass to the nightstand, he picked up a bottle of cough syrup and a spoon she hadn’t even noticed. He poured some of the dark liquid into the spoon, bringing it to her lips. Like a child, she opened her mouth wide, and he poured in the medicine.
She shuddered at the taste, smacking her lips, and his mouth quirked. He deposited the bottle and spoon on the table and sat down on the edge of the bed. He stared at her, his green eyes roaming over her face, and she was so miserable she didn’t even care he was seeing her at her absolute worst. She cleared her throat, wincing at how scratchy it was.
His eyes narrowed, and he pulled a cough drop from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. She unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, letting it soothe the dry achiness.
“How did you get in?” she asked when her throat could handle words.
“Joe.”
Joe could have lost his job for letting Nick into her condo. She imagined he must have been pretty persuasive to get the concierge to break the rules.
“What did you bribe him with?”
Nick smiled. “Season tickets. Fifty-yard line.”
She shivered, feeling like she might throw up at any moment. He frowned and stood up.
“Blankets?”
She pointed to her closet before scooting down against the pillows. She had never been so sick, not even when she was a little girl. She didn’t know why Nick had decided to come back, but she was grateful because she really needed someone to take care of her. Closing her eyes, she drifted away.
The room was dark when she woke up, the red numbers of her alarm clock reading 4:23 a.m. She was lying on her side with blankets piled over her. A heating pad was on top of them, taking the chill away. She desperately needed to go to the bathroom, but she didn’t want to get out of bed. Finally, she pushed back the covers and sat up.
“Oh,” she exclaimed as the cold air seeped through her pajamas.
“Okay?” Nick asked, his voice coming out of the dark.
She jumped, startled because she had thought he’d left hours ago. She reached over and turned on the lamp.
Nick slouched in the overstuffed chair situated in the far corner of her bedroom. A blue blanket draped across his muscular torso and long legs, and his blond hair stuck up. His eyes were sleepy, and gold stubble shadowed his lower jaw.
She sighed, feeling more pathetic than ever. She’d fantasized about Nick being in her bedroom, and he was actually there . . . when she had the flu.
“T,” he said, a question in his voice.
“Bathroom,” she croaked.
He sat up, pushing aside the blanket, and started to rise. He obviously intended to help her to the bathroom.
“No!” she exclaimed as loudly as her broken voice would allow. “I don’t need help.”
He eyed her before standing and leaving the room. She exhaled in relief, grateful he’d realized she needed some privacy. She trudged to the bathroom, which was attached to her bedroom. By the time she’d finished her business, she was so exhausted and dizzy she could barely move.
She stumbled into her bedroom to find Nick standing by the bed. He propped the pillows against the headboard and pulled the covers back so she could climb in. Once she was settled, he handed her a steaming mug.
“What is this?”
“Tea. Lemon. Honey.”
Bending down, he stuck a thermometer in her mouth and placed his hand against her forehead before moving his arm until the inside of his wrist rested against it. When the thermometer beeped, he snatched it from her mouth, and she caught a glimpse of the digital display: 103.9.
He stared at the thermometer, his eyes widening with alarm. “Shit,” he swore fiercely, grabbing a bottle from the nightstand and shaking a couple of pills into his hand.
He held them out to her, and she took them with the tea, hoping the hot liquid would not only soothe her throat but also stay in her stomach. The heat hurt her lips, which were cracked from fever and dehydration, and she ran her tongue over them.
He sat down next to her, pushing her hair away from her face before cupping his palm around her cheek. She turned into it, relishing the feel of his cool fingers against her hot skin.
“You are really sick. Should w-w-w-we go t-t-t-to the ER?”
She cocked her head. Why was he talking like that? He sounded weird. He looked weird, too, like a wavy image in a fun house.
Her head felt funny, and she pushed the mug toward him, splashing tea over his fingers and hers. Closing her eyes, she let the darkness claim her.
When she finally rejoined the land of the living, her pajamas were soaked with sweat, which told her that her fever was finally gone. The pain in her head was barely noticeable, and her body wasn’t aching like it had been for the past four days.
Grayish-white light flooded her bedroom, and the clock on her nightstand read 11:07 a.m. She’d slept almost sixteen hours. No wonder she felt better.
She sat up, swung her legs to the side of the bed, and stood. So far, so good. She made her way to the bathroom with no trouble, and once she was inside the small space, she gathered her courage and looked in the mirror above the sink.
Sweet Mother of God!
Chapter 16
The weatherman was a liar. He’d promised no precipitation, but the entire Northeast was snowed in.
Nick muted the weather report on Teagan’s big-screen TV and made his way to the kitchen. He’d heard the shower running a while ago, so he assumed she felt better.
Opening the fridge, he pulled out some butter and the cheese he’d bought last night. Teagan needed to eat something, and vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwiches were on the lunch menu.
After rummaging around in the cabinets, he found a skillet and put it on to preheat before opening the soup and dumping it in a pot. While the soup heated, he slathered the sourdough bread with butter and lightly grilled it before adding slices of cheddar, Monterey jack, and Swiss cheese.
Letty called them grown-up grilled cheese sandwiches, and he loved them. They’d be even better with bacon. Everything was better with bacon.
Teagan’s bedroom door opened, and he heard her light tread on the hardwood floors as she came down the hall. He flipped the sandwiches before turning to face her. She stopped abruptly when she saw him. They stared at each other across the room, and he ran his gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and up again.
Her long, dark hair waved loosely around her face, shiny from its recent wash. Her cheeks were tinted pink, but th
ankfully no longer red from fever, and her eyes were much brighter. Her nose and lips still looked a little raw, but overall, she looked a thousand times better.
A light blue flannel nightgown with a long line of buttons enveloped her from neck to knees. Her legs and feet were covered in fuzzy black socks that started right where her nightgown ended. They looked a little like leg warmers, but they were tight and clingy.
It was a decidedly unattractive look, nothing sexy about it, yet all he could think about was unbuttoning those tiny little buttons, one by one, until he bared her plump breasts to his gaze. He’d been fantasizing about the color and taste of her nipples for months.
Or maybe he could take the easy route, pulling that old lady nightie up and over her head so he could lay his hands on her bare ass. He was desperate to shape its round curves and touch her smooth white skin.
Teagan joined him in the kitchen, and before he could say anything, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. He squeezed her to him, rubbing big circles on her back.
She had scared him last night. A lot.
She’d been burning up, totally out of it, and none of the drugs he had poured into her mouth had seemed to help. He’d been so worried he had called Letty in the wee hours of the morning to get her opinion on whether he should take Teagan to the hospital.
He relied on Letty more than he’d ever let himself depend on anyone. She had become an important part of his life, and he trusted her to give him good advice, especially since she’d raised three children.
Letty had told him to keep a close watch on Teagan, so he’d slept in her room, checking on her every hour. When her fever had finally broken this morning, he had been so relieved he’d felt light-headed.
The smell of burning bread drifted to his nose, and Nick reached behind him to turn off the stove. The movement pushed his chest against Teagan’s, and he tried not to notice her breasts.
He was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a bra because he could feel how full and firm they were. His heart rate increased, pumping blood straight to his cock, and he stepped back to put some room between them before he had to explain why he had an erection . . . again.