“Isaac,” Archer said warningly.
Finally, he was speaking up. She shot him a look. He gave her a calm look back. “Eat,” he demanded.
Great, she was surrounded by two bossy males. She didn’t have to do what they said. And the only reason she sat and ate the food was because she didn’t want to waste food.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
8
Was she ever going to sleep?
Doc looked over at the door to Caley’s office. She’d retreated in there soon after dinner. At least she’d eaten. But she needed sleep as well. He looked at his phone to check the time. Nearly one in the morning. He’d convinced Archer to take the bedroom, claiming he didn’t sleep well anyway.
But that was a lie. He’d just wanted the couch so he could keep an eye on her. Well, as much as you could watch someone when they were on the other side of a door.
She should be sleeping. Surely, she didn’t need to work this late at night? What work did she do? He scowled and forced himself to stay awake. He was growing soft in his old age.
There wasn’t even anything he could use to distract himself. There was no television and the internet reception was patchy at best. Although he had managed to find a local firewood supplier. He’d give them a call in the morning, arrange for a delivery after they’d left. It was just a thank you for giving them a place to stay.
Same as the microwave he was certain Archer had ordered earlier.
Suddenly, the door to her office opened. He forced himself to remain relaxed. He didn’t want to give her a fright. The fire let out a soft glow, but there wasn’t enough to light up the room so unless she got up close, she shouldn’t notice he was awake.
He heard her shuffle. A yawn. Had she fallen asleep in there?
That wasn’t good. She should be sleeping in her bed where she would get some real rest.
There was a thump then a low cry of pain. He sat up immediately, spotting her hopping around, holding her foot.
“Caley? You okay?” He jumped up and walked over to her.
“Ouchy. Sorry. I banged my foot on something. Ouch. Crap. Damn.”
“Here, let me help.” He looked down with a wince, noting that she had banged into the wooden base of the armchair.
He picked her up and carried her over to the sofa. She stiffened in his arms.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Carrying you.”
“Yes…but…”
He set her down on the sofa then perched on the coffee table. Grasping her foot, he brought it onto his lap and inspected her toes.
“Wiggle them for me.”
She moved them back and forth. “They’re okay.” She winced as he pressed on them.
He grunted. “You should have turned a light on. You could have really hurt yourself.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Wasn’t asleep.”
“You weren’t?”
“Nope.”