She stared down at the countertop. He sighed. “I’m going to take that as a no. Bear know that?”
“No.”
“So, you broke your promise to him.” His voice had a dark note of disapproval in it. She shivered slightly. “You knew what you were supposed to do and you broke the rules. And that might just be what we need to get him here.”
“What?” She could not figure this guy out.
“Go upstairs and have a shower and get into your pajamas,” he told her.
“Are you always this bossy?”
“Yes. And until Bear takes responsibility for you again, you’re my responsibility.”
“Why?” she asked.
He sighed. “Because Bear is my best friend. I want him to be happy. I came here for him. But now that I’ve seen you, walking around in threadbare shoes, in a borrowed jacket that is far too big for you and with big black marks under your eyes, I can see that you need him even more than he needs you. You’re lost, aren’t you, little girl?”
“I’m not lost. I’m fine.” She really wasn’t though.
“Don’t lie to me. That’s the last warning you get.”
She knew she shouldn’t ask. She told herself not to ask. “Or what?”
“Or I tell on you to Bear.”
She rubbed at her forehead. The headache had been brewing for hours, which wasn’t a good sign. But now she was seeing spots in her vision and her stomach was starting to bubble with nausea. She’d only taken a few sips of the hot chocolate.
Clint watched her closely. “You have a headache?”
“Yeah, and his name is Clinton Jensen.”
He snorted. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“That’s not a surprise to me.”
He gave a speculative look. Then he nodded as though he’d made up his mind about something.
“Do you really think he wants me?” she whispered. She was so scared to take a chance. To believe what Clint said. Because she wasn’t sure she could stand for Bear to reject her.
Clint reached over and grabbed hold of her cold hand in his large one. “He does. Now, don’t worry, I’m going to fix things.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that easy. You can’t fix things for other people.”
“Yeah, I can. Don’t you worry now. Go get into your pajamas. I won’t ask a third time.”
Bossy bastard. She glared at him, but found herself standing and heading towards the stairs.
She didn’t know why she felt compelled to do as he ordered. She should probably kick him out of her house. She went upstairs and got ready for bed. Her head was really aching and her pain relief was in her handbag downstairs. Dressed in a pair of old pajamas that had seen better days, she went back downstairs and grabbed her bag off the hall table. She pulled the bottle of pills out, shaking out a couple onto her hand.
A big hand reached over a shoulder and grabbed the bottle. He held them up. “I thought I asked you if you had a headache?”
She placed her hand over her stomac
h as it clenched violently. “I’m gonna be sick.”
He swept her up into his arms and ran for the bathroom. He got there just in time, holding her over the toilet as she heaved and heaved. Tears dripped down her face and she sobbed, agony engulfing her. When she was finished vomiting, her head felt like there were shards of glass tearing their way into her skull and her stomach rolled sickeningly.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. I have you. You’re okay.”