Something in the Wine

by Jae

  Drew snuggled closer. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes brushing Annie’s collarbone like the wings of a butterfly. Drew murmured, “Feels so good.”

  Part of Annie agreed. Drew’s warm, pliant body against hers did feel good. But a bigger part didn’t want to think about why Drew’s embrace felt so surprisingly good even though Annie had never been one for snuggling. She needed some distance, so she sought refuge in the role of a nurse going about her duties with detached professionalism. “Don’t fall asleep like this,” she said. “We need to get some Tylenol and water into you. Can you sit up?”

  For a few seconds, Drew didn’t move, making Annie fear she had fallen asleep snuggled in their embrace. Then Drew dropped her arms from around Annie and groaned as she let her head fall onto the pillow.

  Annie shivered, missing Drew’s warmth.

  What’s going on with me? She stared at Drew and tried to make sense of her confusing feelings. Maybe I do have some maternal instincts after all, and that’s why I want to hold her close and comfort her.

  But the sensations she felt when Drew had wrapped her arms around her hadn’t been maternal at all.

  Drew groaned again.

  Annie returned her attention to her patient. Now is not the time to deal with this. You need to bring her fever down, so get on with it.

  With Drew helping as much as she could, Annie managed to get her propped up against the headboard.

  Annie handed her the Tylenol and, steadying her with one hand, held the glass to her lips until Drew had swallowed the pills.

  Drew sat with her head lolling back against the headboard. Her eyes were closed as if just sitting up and swallowing had exhausted her. A drop of water clung to her bottom lip, and Annie dabbed at Drew’s mouth with a tissue. She fought the urge to run her fingers through Drew’s hair again.

  The thought shocked her. Where was this sudden need to touch Drew coming from? She took a deep breath. “Want to lie back down?”

  With her eyes still closed, Drew nodded.

  After helping Drew slide down and settle back against the pillow, Annie tugged the covers around her. “I’ll take your temperature again in an hour to see if the Tylenol helped.”

  Drew didn’t answer.

  When Annie glanced down, she realized that Drew had fallen asleep.

  Annie blew out a breath and pulled an armchair next to the bed so she could watch over Drew while she slept.

  After half an hour, Drew’s flushed face started to blur before Annie’s burning eyes. Her jaw muscles strained as she struggled to suppress a yawn. She rubbed her face to chase away the tiredness, propped her head on one hand, and continued to watch Drew.

  When Annie’s head fell forward, she got up, lifted the now warm washcloth from Drew’s forehead, and rinsed it with cold water in the bathroom. While standing in front of the sink, she took a moment to splash water on her face and neck to refresh herself.

  Drew mumbled something unintelligible in her sleep but didn’t wake when Annie replaced the cool washcloth.

  Annie yawned again. She would take Drew’s temperature again in thirty minutes. Maybe reading for a while would help keep her awake. She hesitated in front of Drew’s bookshelf and then pulled out what looked like a murder mystery, her preferred genre. But tonight, she wasn’t in the mood for blood and gore. Seeing Drew suffer was bad enough, so she put the mystery novel back.

  She trailed her fingers over the book spines and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Drew was still sleeping peacefully. Her hand lingered above one of the books on the romance shelf before she randomly picked one. The cover showed the silhouettes of two women walking hand in hand along a beach.

  Since when are you interested in reading romances? And lesbian romances at that.

  A throaty moan from the bed interrupted her thoughts.

  Annie jerked and quickly put the book back on the shelf. She hurried to the bed, where she found Drew tossing and turning, struggling to free herself from the covers.

  “Ssssh. Lie still.” Annie rested her hand on Drew’s, which lay on top of the blanket, and stroked the back of Drew’s hand with her thumb. Her other hand brushed a strand of hair out of Drew’s face. “Everything’s fine.”

  Drew’s eyes flickered open. She looked at Annie, closed her eyes again, and fell into a more peaceful sleep.

  Annie stood frozen next to the bed, her hand still on Drew’s. With her free hand, she dragged the armchair even closer to the bed and settled back down. Her thumb brushed over the soft skin of Drew’s hand, soothing her patient—and herself. She blinked and fought against letting the rhythmic stroking lull her to sleep. From time to time, she glanced at the alarm clock.

  When the time came to check Drew’s temperature, Annie stood above her with the thermometer in hand. She reached out to wake Drew—and then decided against it.

  No. Sleep would be the best medicine. Lightly, she touched her hand to Drew’s forehead, trying to gauge her temperature without waking her.

  With her eyes closed, Drew turned her head and pressed her cheek against Annie’s palm.

  Good. Annie blew out a breath. She’s still warm, but I think the fever went down a bit. She settled back into the chair and, after a moment, laid her hand on Drew’s again. In a little while, she would change the compress. If Drew woke, she would try to get her to drink more water or some soup. But now, just for a moment, she would rest her tired eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Drew woke slowly, rising toward wakefulness like a diver surfacing from the bottom of the sea. With her eyes closed, she lay still and took stock of her body. Her head felt heavy, but at least the piercing pressure behind her forehead had receded. Breathing was easier too; it no longer felt as if she were trying to swallow shards of glass. She had stopped sweating and then feeling as if she were freezing to death. Her hands and feet were warm—especially the hand that was curled around someone else’s.

  Huh?

  She blinked open sleep-encrusted eyes and stared at the unexpected sight before her.

  Curled up in an armchair next to the bed was Annie. Her head was tilted to one side, and the blond hair hid half of her face. Her horn-rimmed glasses had slid down a little and sat crookedly on her nose. One of Annie’s arms was wrapped around her drawn-up knees; the other arm rested along the bed. Her right hand lay on top of Drew’s left hand, the thumb safely tucked against Drew’s palm.

  The soft touch felt good against her coarse winemaker’s hand, and she realized that no one had held her hand for quite some time.

  I miss this. If Drew had to, she could make do without sex for a long time, but just having her hand held by Annie made her long for those little loving touches in her life again. She missed the brush of a hand over her forearm, the grazing of fingertips against each other, or a light kiss to her neck. She stared at Annie, taking in her sleep-softened features, and suppressed a sigh. I wish she was as open to a relationship with a woman as she wants Jake to believe. She shook her head, relieved when that didn’t start the hammering pain again. Be grateful for what you have. She’s turning out to be a really good friend.

  Drew had a lot of friends, and while most of them would have willingly played nurse if she had called them, having Annie take care of her felt special. When she had first met Annie just four weeks before, she wouldn’t have believed that the stand-offish Annie would drop everything and rush over to make vegetable soup and apply cooling compresses.

  Annie sighed in her sleep. Her fingers tightened around Drew’s.

  Seems she’s not so stand-offish anymore. With a smile, Drew rubbed her fingertips over Annie’s thumb.

  “Hmm?” Annie opened her eyes and sat up. She groaned, rotated her head, and reached up with her left hand to massage her neck. Only then did she seem to realize that her right hand was otherwise occupied. She glanced back and forth between their joined hands and Drew’s face. Hastily, she let go, straightened her glasses, and combed the fingers of both hands through her hair. “Um ... good
morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” Drew said, relieved to find her voice sounding stronger, even if it was still a bit raspy. She pulled herself up to lean against the headboard. “Thank you for staying with me all night. You didn’t have to, you know?”

  “You had a very high fever, nearly 104.”

  “Really?” Drew remembered Annie putting the thermometer into her mouth. Annie had also spoon-fed her cough syrup, wiped her mouth, and fetched her underwear—acts that seemed too intimate considering they were still new friends. Was Annie now, in the light of the day, feeling as embarrassed as Drew did? She wanted to impress Annie and be her knight in shining armor, not a helpless patient who needed to be spoon-fed.

  “You don’t remember?” Annie’s brow furrowed.

  “Last night is a bit fuzzy,” Drew said. “I think I fell asleep.”

  When Annie stood and stretched, her T-shirt slid up and revealed white panties and a strip of bare skin on her stomach.

  Drew struggled not to stare.

  Annie laid her hand on Drew’s forehead and nodded. “Good. The fever is gone.”

  Her tender attentions were a surprise—a very welcome surprise. They touched something deep inside of Drew, but she had a feeling if she voiced her gratitude, she would end up embarrassing herself and making Annie self-conscious about it. Instead, Drew sought refuge in her usual gentle teasing. “You didn’t take advantage of my weakened state, did you?”

  A blush made Annie’s cheeks glow.

  As if it were a scene from a favorite dream, Drew remembered snuggling up to Annie, pressing her flushed cheek to the soothing coolness of Annie’s neck and chest. Heat that had nothing to do with a fever rose in Drew’s cheeks, but she ignored it. “Oooh, you did?” She slapped the covers with her fist. “Damn, and I missed it!”

  Annie stared at her with her arms folded as if she needed the barrier between them.

  Shit. That was too much.

  But when Drew opened her mouth to apologize for her comment, Annie relaxed her arms and shook her index finger at Drew. “I can see that you are fully recovered and back to your old self.”

  “Thanks to my wonderful private nurse,” Drew said, fluttering her lashes at Annie. She kept her tone light and teasing, but she meant every word.

  Annie looked at her for a few more moments and then nodded as if acknowledging Drew’s veiled thank-you. “I’ll take Cab for a walk. Then I’ll come back and make you breakfast.”

  Drew sank back against her pillow and watched Annie go. One day, she’ll make a wonderful wife for someone. Too bad it can’t be me.

  * * *

  Annie let herself into the house and unleashed Cab.

  Upstairs, everything was quiet, but in the kitchen, a cupboard door slammed shut.

  Annie frowned. Drew should be in bed. What is she doing up? She dropped the leash onto the hall table and rushed toward the kitchen.

  Drew stood in front of the fridge and studied its contents. The hair on the back of her neck was still damp from a shower or a bath, and she was wrapped in a bathrobe.

  When Cab sauntered into the kitchen, his nose to the floor, checking for dropped morsels, Drew turned. For a moment, she looked like a burglar caught in the middle of a break-in, but then she smiled at Annie.

  If she thinks those sexy dimples will get her out of trouble, she’s sadly mistaken. Annie froze. Sexy? God, you definitely need more sleep. You’re just pretending to find Drew attractive, remember?

  Drew took a step toward her. Her movements were slow, not yet full of her normal vigor, but her cheeks had a more normal color and her eyes had lost their feverish haze.

  Annie’s gaze was drawn down to the bare skin displayed by the collar of Drew’s bathrobe. Is she wearing anything beneath that thick terrycloth? Annie flushed and mentally shook her head. Of course she wasn’t interested in Drew’s underwear ... or lack thereof. She was just worried about Drew not staying warm enough.

  “Hey,” Drew said, “back from your walk already? Did Cab behave himself?”

  “He was on his best behavior. I wish I could say the same about his owner.”

  “Me?” Drew pointed at her chest with the box of eggs she held in her hand. “What did I do?”

  Annie stepped into the kitchen. “You should stay in bed.” Another step brought her within touching distance. Part of her wanted to reach out, touch Drew to reconnect and make sure she was all right, but she took the carton of eggs from Drew instead.

  “Damn, I must be good.” Drew wiggled her eyebrows. “My new girlfriend doesn’t want to let me out of bed.”

  Heat shot through Annie’s cheeks, but it felt different from before. Drew’s playful innuendo wasn’t really what was making her blush; it was the memory of how Drew’s lips closed around the spoon when Annie fed her medicine, of holding Drew’s flushed body close and entwining their fingers when Drew started tossing and turning—things a girlfriend might do. It had felt good to do those things for Drew, but now that she had time to think, she was starting to wonder if helping Drew when she was sick had changed their friendship—and in what way.

  Here and now, in the middle of the kitchen, Drew seemed to be back to her old confident and witty self, no longer the sick and helpless woman from last night. Or maybe she just used her bravado to hide that she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the vulnerability she had revealed last night.

  But it was too late. Annie’s perception of Drew had changed irrevocably. While she still admired Drew’s strength and her wit, she had now seen a softer, needier side of her. Strangely, it made her like Drew even more.

  She wasn’t so sure whether that was a good thing. Taking care of Drew while she was sick had added an emotional undertone of trust and comfort to their friendship that hadn’t been there before. Somehow it felt overwhelming. Too much, too soon.

  When she felt Drew looking at her as if waiting for some kind of reaction to her comment, Annie raised one eyebrow. Maybe the Spock-like mimic would help her focus and control the confusing feelings that swirled through her. “Your new girlfriend,” she formed quotation marks with her fingers, “wants you to stay in bed for a very good, very non-erotic reason. You were really sick last night.”

  “I’m fine now,” Drew said. She stuck out her lower lip like a pouting child.

  Annie raised her eyebrow higher.

  “Really. It’s always that way for me. One day, I run a fever and look like I’m on my deathbed. The next day, I’m fine.” Drew shrugged. “Guess the fever burns away the germs.”

  Considering Drew looked much better today, she was probably right, but Annie couldn’t help worrying. “Still, you shouldn’t risk a setback.” She put the eggs on the counter and led Drew to the door.

  When Drew glanced down, Annie realized she had wrapped her fingers around Drew’s arm. Somewhere between last night and this morning, touching Drew had become automatic. Cut it out. She’s doing better now. Annie let go of Drew. “Come on. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll make you some scrambled eggs with toast and bring up a tray once it’s ready.”

  “Breakfast in bed.” Drew smiled dreamily and winked at Annie. “You know, I really like being your girlfriend.”

  Annie crossed her arms and then consciously relaxed them. Why do you react like this to her teasing? She doesn’t mean anything by it. Probably does it with every woman she meets, gay or straight. The thought caused her stomach to tighten with an emotion that felt strangely like jealousy. Okay, now you’re really starting to lose it. Get her back to bed and out of your head. She gave Drew a mock glare. “Go before I decide to burn your toast.”

  Laughing, Drew lifted her hands and walked backward. “I’m going, I’m going.”

  * * *

  Annie sat on the chair next to the bed and watched Drew devour her breakfast.

  Drew ate as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She chomped down half a piece of toast in one bite and washed it down with tea.

  “Slow down, or you’ll get s
ick,” Annie said.

  “I am sick,” Drew mumbled through a mouthful of toast. “And this is too delicious to eat it slowly.”

  Annie narrowed her eyes. “It’s just toast.”

  “Maybe.” Drew smiled. “But it always tastes better when someone else makes it.” She wiped a few crumbs off her hands, leaned back in bed, and regarded Annie with a warm gaze. “Thank you for making me breakfast. And for taking care of me last night.”

  Annie nodded. She didn’t know how to respond to Drew’s gratefulness, so she gazed around the bedroom in search of a conversation topic. Again, the archery trophies caught her attention. “Are those yours?” She pointed at the trophies.

  “Yeah.”

  The sadness in her tone made Annie look toward Drew. Instead of forming a proud smile, Drew’s lips were compressed into a grim line.

  Annie tilted her head and studied Drew but hesitated to ask.

  “I used to be quite good at it.” Drew’s gaze seemed to see through Annie and into a time long gone.

  “And now?” Annie asked. She made her voice gentle. This seemed to be a painful topic for Drew.

  “Now ...” Drew sighed. “I only touched a bow once since last winter.”

  Last winter—that’s when her mother died. Annie wanted to reach out and squeeze Drew’s hand but held back, not sure if Drew wanted to be comforted by her.

  A sad half-smile settled on Drew’s lips. “My mother was the one who got me into archery.” She lowered her head and rubbed her eyes. “After she died, I just couldn’t ...”

  Annie couldn’t hold back any longer. She leaned forward and rubbed Drew’s shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if you—”

  “No, it’s okay.” Drew reached up and squeezed the hand resting on her shoulder, pressing it more tightly against herself.