"Did you leave?" I asked, taking in his jeans and flannel shirt that were different than what he had on the previous day.
"Yeah, the cold front everyone was buzzing about yesterday definitely moved in. They're now saying we may get up to a foot of snow."
"Really? It's not even October," I exclaimed. Forgetting I was clad in only my bra and panties, I sat up and just caught the blanket as it slid down exposing my lace bra. His eyes rested on it for a second before returning to my face. I flushed. My confidence from the other night was long gone, and I was unsure what the proper behavior was for what was going on between us.
"Here," he said, handing me a couple of pills.
"Thanks," I said, still clutching the blanket to my chest.
"You're going to have to release your death grip on the blanket to take a drink," he chuckled.
"Nuh-uh," I mumbled, popping the pills in my mouth before reaching for my glass of water with my now free hand.
"You don't have to be shy with me," he said, lifting my chin with his fingers so our eyes met.
"This part is new to me," I confessed.
"It is for me too, but I'm not going to lie, I like seeing you all sleep-rumpled in the morning," he admitted.
"Really?" I asked as a warm feeling that had nothing to do with my fever spread through me. I knew I shouldn't be happy. I should be keeping him at arm's length, but the idea that he wanted to stay made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
"Really," he answered, leaning in to rub his lips against my cheek. "Hmm, you feel warmer than earlier," he observed, placing his palm against my forehead.
"It's just a cold. I guess that picnic in the rain you planned the other night wasn't the best idea," I said, pulling back slightly to dislodge his hand. I didn't want to make a big deal over my fever.
"Maybe I should take you to the doctor."
"It's just a fever. People get them all the time," I argued, tamping back my panic. I most definitely did not want to go to the doctor.
"I guess you have a point," he said, gently pushing me back against my pillows. "You should at least rest," he said, tucking my blankets around me.
"I should call Fran," I protested, reaching for my phone.
"I kind of already told her," he said, looking sheepish.
"What? When?" I asked.
"I stopped off at her store to stock up on some supplies in case it really does snow. I told her you felt feverish and she told me to tell you to stay home. She seemed quite worried about you. She told me if it snows like they think, that you're to take tomorrow off too, and that it was an order, so no arguing."
"She acts tough, but she's nothing but a softie," I said, trying to sound blasé. I could imagine why she was worried. Fran was the only person I had confided in. I knew my secret was safe with her, though I knew my refusal to see a doctor worried her. I felt bad about the stress I was adding on her already frail shoulders, but not enough to have my fears confirmed. I didn't want hospitals with their endless tests, poking and poisonous toxins. I wanted to do things on my terms this time. It was my decision, and I planned to stick with it even though some doubt had begun to creep in. I was pretty convinced the man beside me had something to do with that.
"I like her. Her crusty attitude is highly entertaining."
"Yeah, I like her too, a lot," I agreed. "I forgot to ask you yesterday if you were able to retrieve everything."
"With the help of some locals. Needless to say, I owe a handful of guys a round at Joe's. Turns out, it was more of a pain in the ass than I thought it would be," he admitted. "Not to mention, I may have been called a pansy when they saw the lanterns and candle remnants."
"I bet. Some of those guys are pretty gruff and set in their ways. It's best to just ignore them," I said, stifling a yawn.
"Oh, I didn't ignore them. I told them at least I got the girl," he said, chuckling as he pulled the drapes closed.
"That'll show 'em," I said, closing my eyes. "Thanks for checking in on me and telling Fran I'd be out today," I added, fighting my drowsiness. I figured he'd be ready to leave now that he had checked on me.
My assumptions were wrong though. I drifted in and out of a fever-induced sleep the majority of the day, and he was always there when I woke. I knew I should send him away. We were breaking every rule I had set, and would only be making things harder for ourselves in the end, but I couldn't find the will to send him away. His presence was oddly comforting as he pushed more Advil and water on me whenever I woke up. By the time the sun was setting, my fever had broken and I was ready to eat the hearty stew he had cooked for me in my kitchen.
"A man who cooks is a rare treasure," I observed, balancing my bowl on my lap as I dunked a hunk of French bread in the thick broth. I was perched on my couch, bundled up in the same quilt from the night before, glad to finally be out of my bed. My relief that my fever had passed was tangible. I wasn't ready for my symptoms to be known.
"Is that the only thing that makes me a treasure?" he said, sitting down and lifting my feet onto his lap.