Taylor rubbed the chill from her arms and shook her head. “I guess not, but there is a simple enough solution. They sell six-dollar bottles of bubbly at the grocery store. I’ve seen them.”
The redhead burst into laughter. “Taylor McAvay! I’d slug you if I could. You are such a smartass!”
Smirking, she cast a look Henderson’s way. “I don’t think my bodyguard would like that.”
“No, Ma’am,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t. I don’t think Mr. Baas would appreciate the gesture either.”
Sobering, Taylor nodded. Her shoulders lifted and she did her best to mask her disappointment as she forced a smile for her friend. “I should go,” she said reluctantly. “Sebastian got hurt pretty bad at work last night. I should head back inside in case he wakes up and needs me.”
Worry lined Irene’s overly made-up face. Foundation caked in the creases around her mouth. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He’s pretty banged up though and I don’t want him roaming around trying to do things for himself. That man is nothing if not stubborn.”
“Aren’t they all?” Irene muttered. “Especially those alphas.” A quiet sigh wafted between them. Reaching out, she took Taylor’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll let you get back to your handsome Fed. Promise me you will call if you need anything, though. Anything at all.”
“I’m not letting you give him a sponge bath, Irene.”
Much to her surprise, Henderson snorted and tried to cover it by coughing into his fist. His eyes sparkled though as he glanced between the two of them. Irene laughed even harder, adding fuel to the humor with a disgruntled snap of her fingers.
“Damn,” she scoffed, not bothering to mask her disappointment. “I mean it though, Tay. Give me a call as soon as things get back to normal or if you need a helping hand. Sponge bath or not,” she teased. “Don’t make me come screaming your name at the gates again, Rapunzel, because you know I will.”
“I know, and I love you for it. I’m just not sure why.”
“Well, that’s easy, sugar. We both know I’m completely irresistible,” the coppertop teased with a coy smirk. “I’ll see ya later, doll. Stay in touch.”
As she watched Irene sashay back to her car with an exaggerated swing of her hips, Taylor shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to shake the numbness and cold seeping into her feet. Her awkward dance drew an amused smirk from Henderson, who merely nodded toward the house in mute suggestion. Offering him an apologetic grin, she bolted up the front walk, wincing as the pins and needles feeling in her toes intensified.
After pushing the front doors open, her gaze travelled to the top of the stairs in search of Sebastian. She’d fully expected to see him standing there, waiting for some sort of explanation for her actions, his Sebby senses on full alert. Her mouth fell with a worried frown when she found the landing empty and the house silent. The stillness drove home just how serious his injuries were. Nothing escaped his attention, and if the commotion outside wasn’t enough to disturb him from his slumber, nothing short of a natural disaster would.
Shoulders slumping, Taylor eased the doors shut behind her and reset the alarm as a conflicting surge of emotions washed through her. Sometimes, victory was strangely bittersweet.
A potent combination of painkillers kept Sebastian asleep most of the time, but despite the semi-coma, he frequently startled awake in the throes of misery, moaning and biting back cries of pain as he clutched at his head. She sat by helplessly, her heart breaking as she rubbed soothing circles on his back while he rocked himself through the worst of it, often tearing at his own hair in frustrated agony. The days were long, and trying. The concussion and medications hit Sebastian hard thrusting him from a strong, self-sufficient man to helpless in the blink of an eye. Shame branded his face and whenever he was awake, he’d whisper dazed apologies. Taylor did her best to silence and reassure him. She brought him his meals, most of which went untouched, helped him bathe, and spent long hours sitting beside him watching him dream. Most of all, she prayed for his speedy recovery.
Taylor swayed in place, grooving to the upbeat country song as she flipped the bacon and checked the eggs. She hummed beneath her breath and eyed the filling coffee pot before casting a curious glance at the floor above. Lips twisting in confusion, she quirked a brow at the sound of the shower running upstairs. She struggled with the desire to check on him. It had been a week. Yesterday he’d seemed stronger, not to mention testier. His eyes had lost the glassy appearance and though pale and haggard, he’d looked more like Sebastian. It was obvious being bedridden was weighing on him. Sebastian wasn’t used to being helpless. She was putting the finishing touches on his breakfast tray when strong arms suddenly circled around her from behind. Her heart pounded for a moment until her lover’s familiar scent surrounded her and she sighed with relief. Gently easing her head back to rest against his shoulder, she relished in the feel of him. It had been too long.
“We’ll eat breakfast in the morning room,” he said softly.
The rasp of his voice sent a delighted shiver down her spine. He sounded stronger, more sure of himself. Her heart swelled. Turning in his arms, Taylor grinned and leaned up for a kiss. The feel of his fingers threading through her hair and his lips against hers were pure heaven.
“You look good. Are you feeling better?” she said, running her hands over his face. He’d even shaved and slicked his hair into some semblance of order. Sebastian winked and brushed his knuckles across her cheek.
“Much. Are you going to let me eat before my food gets cold, or are you going to keep staring?” he asked.
She colored despite the smile he fought to suppress. His eyes betrayed him. Humor shimmered in the pale green pools. She remembered just how easily she could lose herself in those hypnotic depths. Wresting her gaze away, Taylor resisted the urge to bump him with her hip for the teasing and giggled. “I suppose I can feed you.”
Sebastian winked and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Wise choice.”
They ate in silence for the most part. The last few days had caught up with him, and he attacked his food like a starving man. She lifted an eyebrow when he reached across the table to steal a piece of toast and bacon off her plate, his expression sheepish.
“Would you like me to make you more?” she asked, trying to shield her amusement.
“No, baby. I’ll survive until lunch.”
“I missed you,” she admitted with a shy smile. “This.”
He nodded, shoveling the last of his eggs on his fork. “Me too, darling.” A heavy sigh lifted his shoulders and his gaze met hers across the rounded table. “I hate that you saw
me in that condition, Taylor. That man, that person is not who I am. I’m not weak.”
Her mouth fell open. Reaching out, she draped her hand over his forearm. “Oh my God, Sebastian. I never thought that about you. Ever. You’re the strongest person I know.”
He dumped the eggs off his fork and pushed them across his plate, still refusing to meet her stare. “I only came home to be with you. I wanted to see you, to know you were safe. Otherwise, I would have just stayed in the infirmary.” His mouth whitened with a grim press and his expression hardened. “I just wanted you to know it was the medication laying me up for the last week, not some shortcoming on my end.”
“I know, Seb,” she said, squeezing his arm. “They wanted you to rest as much as possible so you could get better. Marx called to check up on you.”
He set his fork down and sat back, his eyes flying to hers. His brow crept lower with his frown. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth—that you were sleeping. He told me the meds would do that and to let you rest.”
His jaw knotted and he shook his head. “I don’t want you talking to him, Taylor.”
“I didn’t recognize the number. It’s not like I knew who it was,” she said, trying not to pout at the hard edge in his voice.
“Now you do,” he bit back, tossing his napkin on his plate. “Don’t do it again.”
Blinking against a wave of confusion, she watched as he crossed the room and stomped on the pedal for the stainless steel trashcan, popping the lid. He emptied his plate and rinsed it. As he made his way to the dishwasher, his eyes locked with hers.
“He has the number for my cell, Taylor. If Marx wants to talk to me, he can call that. He has no business calling the house phone.”
“I know. I just…I don’t think he wanted to bother you.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Shaking his head, he opened the dishwasher and loaded his plate. “Is this going to be an issue?” he asked without looking up.
“No, Sebastian. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You’re supposed to call him back when you’re feeling better.”