“Jesus, is this the maid’s quarters?” he asked incredulously.
A wry smile tipped up one corner of her mouth. “Actually, yes, it is.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand. This house is huge and there are only four of you living here and you’re in this cramped little room? How many bedrooms are there upstairs?”
“Four very large ones,” she said, and seemingly knowing what he was about to ask next, she held up a hand and explained. “When my father passed away, Helena decided to build herself an enormous custom closet out of one of the rooms, which happened to be my room at the time since it was right next to the master bedroom. So, I got relocated.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said, doing his best to keep a lid on the fury that wanted to explode out of him for the despicable way Helena treated her. Instead, he focused on getting Elle as comfortable as possible.
“Where do you keep your nightgown or something that you can sleep in?” he asked.
“You’ve done enough, Hunter,” she said, suddenly sounding tired and weary as she lay back on her bed, fully clothed. “You can go now. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he said adamantly. Spotting a tall, plain white dresser up against the wall on the other side of the bed with a small TV on top, he headed in that direction.
“Hunter . . . I don’t want to get you sick, too.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He opened the top drawer, and finding it filled with her panties and bras, he went one lower and saw what looked like various pajamas. He grabbed a soft, cotton sleep shirt and returned to her side of the bed. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
“You’re a stubborn one, Mr. Wilder,” she said, her voice growing faint.
She was a fine one to talk, considering how headstrong she was. “The sooner you come to terms with that, the
better.”
“Fine,” she muttered, her eyes closed. “I’m too exhausted, weak, and in too much pain to argue.”
He didn’t like the fact that she was in so much pain from the flu but he pushed his concern away for now. He was just grateful to have her cooperation. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”
Her lashes fluttered back open, and she met his gaze. “I’m not used to anyone taking care of me,” she said softly.
His chest grew tight with a dozen different emotions, and he reached out and gently feathered his fingers along her warm cheek. “I suggest you get used to it because I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Now, can you sit up so I can get you out of your clothes and into this shirt to sleep in?”
She nodded, and with her help, he managed to strip off the dress she’d worn to the office and removed her bra. Then he quickly and as gently as possible pulled the T-shirt over her head and arranged it down to her thighs. He took off her sandals, and by the time he settled her back beneath the covers, she curled up on her side and was clutching her stomach again, moaning as a wave of pain seemed to wash over her.
“Maybe I should take you to urgent care,” Hunter suggested, unable to stop the worry growing inside of him.
“I’m not going to urgent care,” she insisted in a faint voice as she buried her face in her pillow. “They can’t do anything for the flu once you have it and all this will eventually pass. I just need to sleep off the worst of it.”
It went against Hunter’s better judgment not to rush her off to a doctor, but he had to trust that Elle knew her body best. However, he decided if these extreme symptoms continued, he’d be taking over. When she finally settled and fell asleep and didn’t look as though she was in excruciating agony, he breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax.
While Elle slept, Hunter propped the extra pillows against the headboard on the other side of the bed and sat next to her. He retrieved his phone, checked for any important emails and messages, and finding none, he downloaded the latest bestselling thriller from one of his favorite authors to read while keeping an eye on Elle.
A few hours passed, with Elle occasionally shifting beneath the covers or making inarticulate noises, but for the most part, she slept without any major incidents. At about eight that evening, she woke up and glanced over at him, and he set his phone and the book he was reading aside to give her his attention. He searched her face for signs of discomfort and was grateful to find nothing like she’d been experiencing earlier.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at her. “Feeling any better?”
She thought for a moment, seemingly getting her bearings, and swallowed hard. “A little?” she said, her voice sounding dry. “I’m so thirsty. Maybe I’ll get up and make myself a cup of tea. I think that’s about all I can handle.”
“You definitely need to stay hydrated, and you’re staying put,” he ordered as he slid off the bed and came around to her side. “I’ll go see what I can do.”
She gingerly rolled to her back, looking up at him. “I’m not sure you’ll figure out the whole tea thing, so you can bring me water if that’s easier.”
He grinned at her. “Did you just issue me a challenge?” he teased, and felt his heart swell in his chest when an amused smile curved her lips, which was hopefully a start to her feeling better. At this point, he’d give her the moon and the stars if she asked for them.
“It’s just a complicated process for someone who’s never done it before,” she explained. “But if you want to give it a try, the tea leaves are in the pretty painted jar on the counter. The ball strainer that you put the leaves in is in the drawer right in front of that. You add boiling water from the instant hot water dispenser and let the tea steep for about three minutes. Then, you add a teaspoon of sugar from a jar in the cupboard, and you’re done.”
“So simple,” he lied, having no clue what all that meant, but was willing to see what he could do. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”