“Damn, Spence. I’m not sure I can ever get used to this side of you,” Cam told him.
“Just wait. You aren’t far behind me,” Spence said. “But I will say this: Don’t let foolishness allow the girl to get away. If you want her to talk to you, then leave her no choice, but don’t be an ass about it.”
Cam was about to reply when Spence’s pager went off.
“Dammit, gotta run.”
And just like that, Cam found himself standing by the river alone, his brother’s footsteps fading away. Now it was his turn to throw rocks into the water as he contemplated what to do next.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
Grace could hear someone speaking, but she was exhausted. The damn cold she’d managed to catch had been playing havoc with her entire system, and she’d slept more in the last two days than she had in her entire life.
“Go ’waayy . . .” she mumbled, turning over and snuggling back under the blanket, which seemed to be holding her down. She didn’t mind being held down. A few more hours of sleep and she’d be right as rain.
“Come on, Grace, wake up. You should know better than to leave your apartment unlocked. Anyone could come strolling on in and do all sorts of things . . .” The person trailed off, and she started to become a little more alert. Then the voice registered, and her eyes shot open.
“Cam! What in the world are you doing in here?” she croaked as she struggled to sit up. She had zero strength at the moment, though, and it seemed an impossible task.
“I came to talk to you. I pounded on the door for a full five minutes. When I saw your car parked below, and there still wasn’t an answer, I got worried. I checked the knob and it was unlocked, so I came in to find you snoring on the couch.”
Strong hands circled her waist and assisted her in sitting up before he made himself comfortable and sat next to her. Glaring at him as she clutched her blankets, she pulled up her knees and hugged them to her chest. “I do not snore!”
“Out of everything I just said, that’s what you pick up on?”
“Well, I don’t,” she stated. “And as a man of the law, you should realize you’re trespassing. I could call the cops and have you arrested right now.”
“I’m shaking in my loafers,” he said, leaning back and making himself at home.
“Ugh. You’re a pig.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“And I’m sure you deserved it.”
“Ouch, someone woke up on the wrong side of the . . . couch.”
“Oh, my gosh, you always think you’re so amusing. Why don’t you leave and let me rest before I decide to breathe in your face and give you what I have.”
“Baby, you can do a hell of a lot more than breathe in my face if you’d like,” he said, leaning too close.
“Knock it off, Cam. This isn’t a fair fight. I don’t feel good,” she said, her heart picking up speed.
“You’ve always felt good to me,” Cam said. “But I’m going to make you a hot cup of tea, and then we’re going to talk business. You ran out on lunch the other day, remember.” He jumped up from the couch and disappeared around the corner to her kitchen.
She desperately wanted to tell him exactly where he could stick his hot cup of tea, but just the thought of it was doing crazy things to her parched throat. She could have called and asked her best friend, Sage, who just so happened to be a doctor, to come and take care of her, but Grace was independent, and she hadn’t wanted to admit she needed to be taken care of.
So she’d been miserable, barely able to move from the couch to the bathroom, let alone bustle around in the kitchen. When the teakettle whistled, she had to fan her face as her eyes burned with tears.
Grace Sinclair did not cry. That was unacceptable. She especially didn’t cry over something as simple as someone making her a cup of tea. When she was feeling normal again, she’d kick herself, because weak women irritated the hell out of her.
Cam walked back into the room a few minutes later holding her late grandmother’s lap tray, a pot with hot water in it, a china cup, a small cup of soup, crackers, and a tomato sandwich, her absolute favorite, cut in half on the diagonal. He remembered, and it took a strength she didn’t know she possessed to refuse to let any of this mean anything to her. So he opened a can and boiled some water. Big freaking deal.
“You didn’t need to do this,” she said, her throat tight. She accepted the tray, though, and didn’t waste any time pouring her tea and adding a dollop of honey before she took ravenous mouthfuls of her soup.
“I wanted to do it,” Cam told her before sitting back down.
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” Cam said, and she sent him another withering look.
“I said, ‘Thank you!’ ” But she sounded anything but thankful.
“You always have had a difficult time thanking people,” Cam told her.
“That’s because most people do things for selfish reasons, not because they’re truly selfless,” she said, then frowned when she realized her sandwich was gone.
“Want another one?”
“No . . .” But she drew out the no. His attentiveness was sapping her will.
Cam laughed and climbed off the couch, grabbed her plate, then disappeared again. She could have tried to stop him, but the food was giving her some much-needed energy, and she hadn’t eaten in . . . hell, it had to be two full days now.