Colt texted Jace, who told Maddy—who blew up Colt’s phone with worried questions and advice. Colt stepped out of the room to call her, reassured her that he would give Angie the platinum treatment, and agreed to a delivery of homemade chicken soup tomorrow. He could have made it himself, but it would keep Maddy busy. She’d also feel like she was doing something important for her best friend.
Oh, and he endured a chewing out for what happened at BDI earlier. Because of course Angie told Maddy at some point.
Maddy finished with “BDI would be lucky to have her.”
Colt couldn’t hide his surprise. “You want her to work with us?”
“I want her to do whatever makes her happy. I don’t think doing taxes is it. Anyway, take care of her, Colt. She’s used to doing everything herself and she won’t admit she needs help. I’ll bring soup tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Maddy. I’ll take care of her, don’t worry. She’s not going to want for anything while I’m around.”
Colt had thought about bedding down in the pink room for the night, but when he went to check on Angie, the way she shivered beneath the covers meant he was going to slip in beside her and hold her. She didn’t wake when he climbed into bed—fully clothed in a T-shirt and workout shorts—or when he slid his arms around her and gathered her close.
She burrowed into him, sighing, and didn’t bat an eyelash. He ended up flipping the covers off his body, except where she snuggled against him, and powered up the television so he could watch something on low while she slept.
He needn’t have worried the noise would wake her. She opened her eyes once, looked up at him feverishly, mumbled something that sounded like “You won’t want me now,” and closed them again.
He stroked her hair, feeling protective and tender, and wished she felt better. She could have picked up a stomach bug anywhere. It had probably been dormant in her body for the past three or four days. According to Jared, the rapidity with which it hit her was common. One minute feeling fine, the next feeling sicker than crap.
Eventually, he fell asleep with Angie in his arms. It wasn’t a restful sleep since he was very aware of her beside him, and because she flailed in her feverish state. He’d been a special operator in the military and he’d learned to sleep in short snatches whenever necessary. He’d also learned to come awake instantly at the slightest disturbance.
It was that or die because you never knew when a tango was about to descend on you and kill your entire squad with a well-timed explosive device. Waking up quickly was a necessary skill in those days. Still was.
Sometimes, even that couldn’t save your squad. Sometimes they all died anyway, and you didn’t because somehow you were luckier that day than they were.
As Angie jerked and twitched in her sleep, Colt woke again and again. But he also dropped back into slumber pretty quickly too. His dreams were restless, but they didn’t descend into nightmare territory. He didn’t relive that day when everyone else died, thank God. He didn’t dream of it too often anymore, but it still had the power to turn him into a shaking mess when he did.
It was sometime early that morning, before first light but not too long before, that he woke to Angie saying something. It took him a moment to realize she was talking in her sleep.
“Miss having man b’side me.” He thought this must be what she sounded like drunk. Slightly slurred, words running together. “Long time, no ses.”
No sex?
“Miss it.”
Her hand roamed over him and he tensed. If she reached for his crotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop an erection. Simple biology. But she didn’t. She slid her hand over his abdomen, up his chest.
Then she flipped herself over and burrowed into the pillow, her sweet little ass right up against his hip. He resisted the temptation to shape that curve with his palm. Not without her permission. That’s not the kind of guy he was.
Colt stayed on his back. God forbid he turned toward her and she wriggled her butt into his groin. The hard-on would be epic. He put a hand behind his head, tried like hell to sleep again. Angie moaned in her sleep from time to time, but it wasn’t a sexy moan. She was hurting and he hated that for her.
Finally, he dropped off again. This time when he woke, light was streaming between the crack in the black-out curtains he’d put on the windows. Angie was facing him again, her body huddled up against him, her cheek on his chest. He carefully pressed his hand to her forehead. She was still hot, but not as hot as she’d been last night.
He eased himself from the bed, went to take a leak, then headed into the kitchen to fix coffee. When he’d downed a cup and poured another, he went back to the bedroom to check on Angie. It was time for some meds and he needed to make sure she got them before he let her keep sleeping.
“Ang,” he said softly as he sat beside her and put a hand on her cheek. “Minette.”
Her eyelids drifted up, her green eyes red and watery as she peered at him. “Colt?”
“Yes, baby. You need to take some medicine. Can you do that?”
She groaned. Then she pushed herself onto an elbow. He handed her the Tylenol and held a glass of water for her while she sipped. When she finished, she flopped back down again.
“I’m sorry I puked on your floor.” She looked miserable.
“I told you it’s no big deal.” If she knew the kinds of things he’d had to deal with as a Marine and then a mercenary, she wouldn’t be apologizing. Puke was nothing in the grand scheme of things.
“You’re sweet.”
“If you think so. I’m telling you the truth. Are you hungry?”
She shook her head back and forth on the pillow. “No. I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“You’ll have to eat something later. Maddy’s fixing chicken soup. You can sip the broth. It’ll be good for you.”
“I’ll try.” She pulled the covers up and rolled to her side. A few moments later, she was asleep again.
Colt showered and dressed and returned to the kitchen to fix something for breakfast when his phone rang.
“What’s up? Don’t tell me Maddy’s already made the soup and wants to bring it over.”
Jace didn’t laugh. Always a bad sign. “She’s working on it. That’s not what I’m calling about.”
“Did someone break into Angie’s place?” Because if they had, then BDI would have footage of it. And audio. Might help find whoever was after her.
“Not that. Somebody found a body in a car this morning.”
“Shit. Martinelli?”
“No. Another accountant who worked at Barton, Barnes and Blake. Jennifer Clark.”
Chapter Twelve
Angie felt like hell. She didn’t remember the last time she’d had the stomach flu. And no wonder because she must have blocked the memory. She huddled beneath the covers in Colt’s bed, feeling badly that she’d taken his bed but also perversely glad she was here with him. She’d hate to be dealing with this at home alone.
She wasn’t certain, but she felt like he must have slept beside her last night. She recalled snuggling against a solid shape that had all the warmth she wanted for herself. It was possible she’d imagined the whole thing.
She drifted in and out of sleep, waking and bolting for the bathroom a few times. Colt brought her medicine and juice and plain toast. Eventually, her head stopped hurting and her fever broke. She stopped feeling like she was going to puke every time she moved.
More than anything, she wanted a shower. She sat up and pushed the covers back. Her things were in the other bathroom, and her clothes were in the guest room. She stumbled toward the door. It wasn’t closed all the way and she pulled it open. Colt was coming down the hall. He stopped when he saw her.
For the first time since this had started, she worried about how awful she must look. She remembered that she’d puked on his floor and he’d cleaned it up. He must have since she hadn’t. Mortification rolled through her. She gripped the door tightly and met his gaze.
“Hey, baby. H
ow you feeling?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Not great, but better enough to want a shower. My things are in the other bathroom.”
“You feel good enough to stand up that long?”
“I think so. But I can sit in the tub if I have to. I just need to get some clothes first.”
“Tell me what you need. I’ll get it.”
She thought of him handling her underwear and felt a pinprick of embarrassment. But what was the big deal? He’d held her while she threw up all over his floor. What was underwear after that?
“I need panties and a bra. Socks. I have some black yoga pants, and a sweatshirt that says Best Cat Auntie on it. Maddy gave it to me as a joke. I watch her cat when she’s traveling.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
He grinned. “Possibly. But Kitty loves me too, remember? I’ve watched her for Maddy a few times.”
“Then you’ll be getting your own shirt one of these days.” It was amusing to imagine him wearing a Best Cat Uncle shirt. And if she was capable of amusement, maybe she wasn’t going to die.
“Hit the shower, Ang. I’ll get your clothes. Leave the door unlocked and I’ll set them on the toilet.” Before she could say anything, he said, “I’ll knock first, don’t worry. If you aren’t in the shower, I’ll wait.”
She trusted him. She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower before peeling out of her clothes. When she was standing under the spray, warm water running over her aching body, she heard a light knock. “I’m in the shower.”
The hinges squeaked. “Setting everything on the toilet. I’ll throw your other stuff into the wash.”
It felt nice to be taken care of for a change. She’d lived alone for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like.
“Thank you, Colt.”
“No problem. When you’re done, Maddy brought the soup over. I can bring you some in bed.”
She started to protest and say she’d go to the kitchen, but the thought was exhausting. “That would be lovely.”
The door closed again and Angie put her hand against the wall to brace herself. She felt a sob forming in her throat. He cared about her, and she’d spent months acting like a bitch to him. Hot and cold, ignoring him, pretending he didn’t exist. But she knew why she’d done those things.
He scared her. He was big and beautiful and full of life, though she’d seen him when he wasn’t. She’d seen him in that hospital bed, fighting to recover, and she’d felt so helpless. Something about him had gotten to her, even then, and it’d scared her so much.
She’d watched her best friend fall in love and she’d envied that. Wanted the same thing for herself. She thought she’d had it once, but she definitely hadn’t. If she’d been wrong once before, what said she wouldn’t be again?
Of all the men in the world, why did she have to want a tall, blond, muscled mercenary who was half French, cooked like a chef, knew wine, spoke several languages, and always lived with a shadow of danger in his eyes?
That was the thing that tripped her up most of all. The danger. He embraced it like it was a natural part of life. Jace did too. How Maddy accepted that, Angie didn’t know.
Then again, maybe she had no choice. Angie was beginning to think she didn’t either. Colt Duchaine was the one who made her want to risk her heart one more time. It was insane.
Or she was.
Angie scrubbed her hair and body as hot tears fell from her eyes. She rinsed herself off, shut off the shower, shivered as she grabbed a towel and dried off. It was all she could do to dry and dress, but when she was finally in her clothes with her damp hair hanging down her back—she thought about using the hair dryer but the effort was too much—she returned to the bedroom.
There was a pile of sheets on the floor and Colt was changing a pillowcase.
Angie blinked. “You changed the sheets?”
“I thought you might like fresh ones.”
Oh god, he was too much. Dan had never changed the sheets. Not once. He’d also never slept beside her while she was sick, or took care of her the way Colt had. The lump in her throat grew again. “That’s so sweet of you. You aren’t feeling bad are you? I’d hate it if I made you sick.”
“I’m fine.” He flipped the covers back. “Here, get in. I’ll bring soup and crackers. How about a ginger ale?”
“Please.”
She leaned back against the headboard and Colt tucked the covers around her. She watched him scoop up the sheets and disappear. He was calm and competent. He didn’t bitch about having to do all the work while she lay in bed. She’d heard nothing but complaining out of Dan the one time she’d had bronchitis. He’d been such a dick about it after the first day that she’d dragged herself out of bed and microwaved her own food from that moment on.
Whenever he had a minor cold, however, he’d moaned and groaned like he was dying. She’d had to do everything. She should have realized much quicker than she had what a self-absorbed asshat he was. But he’d had one of those personalities that dazzled, and she’d stayed dazzled far longer than she should have.
Colt was back in a few minutes with a tray containing hot soup, crackers, and a can of ginger ale in a drink koozie. The tray had legs and he set it over her lap.
“You doing okay, Ang?”
She sniffed, her emotions flying high and threatening to spill over. “Better, thanks. Just tired. And a little hungry.” She picked up the spoon and sipped some broth. The soup warmed her from the inside as she ate. “Oh, that’s good. Mads can cook like a house on fire. I sure don’t know where I picked up this bug, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“I might wish it on a few people. Not you,” he added with a grin.
“You sure you aren’t feeling sick?”
“I’m fine, Ang. I’ve had more vaccinations against more weird shit than you can imagine. Goes with the job. I don’t think you have to worry about me.”
“I hope not. I’d feel terrible if you got sick too. I already feel terrible that I’ve inconvenienced you this much.”
“I’m not inconvenienced, babe. I don’t mind taking care of you.”
The lump in her throat tightened again. “Thanks,” she whispered, then covered her emotions by spooning more soup into her mouth. When she felt more in control of herself, she asked, “Has there been any news?”
“Nothing yet.”
“The account in the Caymans?”
“We’re close to solving it.”
“I really need to check email, see what news there’s been from work.”
“You’re sick, Angie. Maybe wait until tomorrow to worry about work. You need to rest. Give yourself time to recover.”
She knew he was right, but she hated not getting anything done. She was the kind of person who was always busy, not the kind who lounged around and flipped through television shows all day. Yet that’s what she needed to do right now. Watch TV and forget about work because her body needed to recover.
“I should let someone know I’m sick.”
“Maddy called Liam. He passed it on to management. He’ll take care of anything that’s time sensitive until you can work again.”
She glowed inside, and not just from the soup. It was nice to have a tribe who took care of you when you needed them. She wasn’t always good at accepting help, but it was comforting when people proved they were there for you. Of course she’d had Maddy for a long time. Now she had Jace too. And Colt, it seemed.
But for how long?
“You guys have thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Pretty much.” He picked up the remote and turned on the big television sitting on the dresser at the foot of the bed. “What do you want to watch? A movie? One of Maddy’s favorite renovation shows?”
She thought about it. She probably wouldn’t be awake for the whole thing, but there was one movie she could think of. A movie that made her laugh and feel good too. “How about Groundhog Day? Do you h
ave that?”
His brows drew together. He was smiling though. “I can find it. I wouldn’t have guessed that about you, Ang.”
“It’s almost Groundhog Day for real. I always watch it this time of year. Do you hate it or something?”
She hoped he didn’t, but she wouldn’t hold it against him if he did. Her ex hadn’t liked it either, but that was the least of his faults.
Colt laughed. “I don’t hate it. I like it. But it’s an older movie so I wouldn’t have thought it would be your first choice.”
“How little you know about me. I love old movies. Casablanca is a particular favorite. North by Northwest with Cary Grant. Lawrence of Arabia. Oh, and The Guns of Navarone. I could keep going.”
He was smiling. “I had no idea. Why do you like those?”
Happiness was a quiet presence inside her. “My grandfather was a movie buff. Some of my favorite memories are sitting on his lap and watching old black and whites. He loved epics and action movies, and the classics like Casablanca.”
“He sounds like a fun granddad.”
“He was. Watching old movies makes me feel like he’s still with me sometimes. That’s not why I like Groundhog Day though. I like that one because it’s a sweet, funny romance.”
“Then let’s watch it. I haven’t seen it in years.”
“You’ll watch it with me?”
“If you want me to.”
“I’d love that,” she said softly.
Colt knew when she’d fallen asleep again. Angie lay with her arm across his belly and her face against his chest. He had his fingers in her hair, twisting a lock of it around and around his index finger. It was soft, silky, and only slightly damp now. Onscreen, Bill Murray and Andie McDowell traded banter. Bill was a dickish reporter and Andie was the sweet and naïve producer who’d been sent to Pennsylvania to get footage of weatherman Bill with the groundhog.
The movie was cute and sweet and poignant, and it didn’t surprise him that Angie loved to watch it. In fact, she kind of reminded him of the Andie McDowell character in a way. Maybe not naïve, but definitely sweet and hopeful. He frowned hard as he thought of the news Jace delivered earlier.
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