Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy 1)

Sleepily, she opened her eyes to check on him. “You haven’t changed. You never could stay out of trouble.”

Chapter 10

Tate woke, wondering why in the fuck he was so sore. Opening his eyes in the dark room, he stared around, disoriented. Thinking he had drunk too much the night before, it was only when his gaze fell on Sutton that his memory returned.

Wincing, he tried to maneuver his body to take the pressure off his sore ribs. His hand rubbed the spot where he was sure someone had kicked him after knocking him out.

“Can I get you something?” Sutton’s husky voice drew his attention back to her.

His feet were laid casually across her lap, and her drowsy gaze hardened his dick despite his body being unable to do a damn thing about it.

“Water and another pain pill,” his voice croaked out the request.

Sutton raised her arm to look at her wrist watch. “It’s almost time for it, anyway.”

She scooted out from under his feet, stiffly rising to go the kitchen. It was only a moment before she was back, holding out the pain pill and a bottle of water.

Tate took the pill, chasing it down with the water thirstily.

“I’ll heat you up some soup. If you don’t eat something, the medication will make you sick.” She didn’t wait to hear if he wanted it or not, going back to the kitchen.

Tate tiredly rested his head back on the pillow, listening to her movements in the kitchen. When he smelled the soup, his stomach growled.

“What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” Sutton said, coming back, carrying the cup of soup and setting it on the end table. Then she helped him to rise to a sitting position, and he thought he might pass out.

“The blood you lost will make you dizzy for a while. The knock on your head will make it worse.” She sat down next to him, handing him the soup.

His hand shook when he took it from her.

“Careful. It’s hot,” she warned.

Tate took a small sip, feeling as if he would hurl it up immediately. Sutton’s hand under the cup encouraged him to take another drink.

“The more you drink, the less you’ll feel sick.”

“Why in the fuck do you care?” Tate regretted the harsh words as soon as they left his mouth. His throbbing dick was aggravating the hell out of him. How could he still be attracted to the cheating liar?

“I don’t.” Her hand dropped to her lap.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “You’re being nice by letting me stay here, and I was being an ass.”

Sutton gave him a cold smile. “It comes naturally to you and your brothers. That’s why you’re holed up here.”

“We’re not ass-kissers; that’s for sure.”

“You’re in your thirties now, Tate. Don’t you think it’s time you grew up?”

His mouth twisted. “That’s twice this week I’ve been told that.”

Her head tilted to the side. “Who else said that to you?”

“Your father.”

Her expression became even more remote. “Then that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on in years.”

“Really? According to him, you haven’t talked to him in years. He said to tell you to call your mother, she’s not doing well.”

Sutton stood up, going to the window to look out, remaining silent.

“Must have been a pretty bad argument to cause a rift between you and your parents. From what I remember, you three were pretty tight.”

“Things changed.” She didn’t turn around or elaborate on the distance that had developed between her and her parents.

At one time, she would have told him without asking. She had been an open book. Now, she was closed off emotionally and physically, not just from him, but others who had been important in her life. Could her husband’s death have affected her so badly?

“Your father said you’re a widow.”

“Is that all he told you?”

“Yes. Why?”

“No reason, just curious. I didn’t know if he knew Scott was dead.”

“That must have been some fight you had with them.”

Sutton turned back from the window. “Can I get you some more soup?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be lucky if I can keep this down.”

Without a word, she left the room. She was gone several minutes, and he was beginning to wonder if she had gone to bed when she returned.

“I made Pap’s bed for you. You’ll be more comfortable there.” She held her hand out to help him up from the couch.

Tate stared at it for a second before taking it, trying not to give her too much of his weight. He grimaced as the pain in his chest and ribs nearly made him fall back, but Sutton grabbed his belt, steadying him.

“Put your arm over my shoulder,” she ordered.

Tate hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t make it to the bedroom alone, and if he spent another minute on the old couch, he would be a cripple come morning.