High Octane (Texas Hotzone 2)

Caleb walked up and made quick work of helping, flagging a manager. A few minutes later, Sabrina and Ryan stood talking to the manager and an off-duty police officer in a far corner of the bar, where the music was muffled. The end result—her purse was still gone, and she needed to call the bank and credit card companies.

By the time they’d finished up their report, Sabrina had to claim Ryan’s arm for stability.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Ryan said, his arm wrapping around her waist.

“Please,” she agreed. “Before I embarrass myself by getting sick would be the preference.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a moan. “So much for romance, eh?”

“There’s plenty of time for romance later,” he assured her.

They said goodnight to their friends, Jennifer being especially supportive and asking her to call her if she needed any help.

Thirty minutes later, Sabrina was on Ryan’s cell phone talking to one of her credit-card companies when they pulled out of a fast food drive-through. Ryan had insisted she had to try to eat. But the scent of sausage and eggs engulfed her with a new wave of nausea.

“I can’t eat anything right now,” she moaned, hanging up to dial another number.

“Tomorrow you’ll feel ten times worse, if you don’t,” he insisted.

“It’s tonight I’m worried about,” she said quickly.

“Worry is my job, remember?”

“Since your version of worry is not to worry,” she said. “I’ll carry the torch until I pass out. Then it’s all yours.”

“How soon is that going to be?”

She pressed her hand to her stomach. “Not soon enough, considering I should finish these calls.”

His hand stroked her hair. “Rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Rest. Yes. She needed to rest. With her lashes heavy, stomach trembling and head pounding, sleep promised painless oblivion. Sabrina let the cell phone drop from her hand and curled her fingers under her cheek. Ryan’s hand continued to lightly caress her head, soothing, comforting. And as she succumbed to the darkness—comfortable enough to simply allow Ryan to take care of her—she was pretty sure that meant something. Something important. Something she needed to remember tomorrow.

***

THE MINUTE RYAN LIFTED Sabrina out of the truck into his arms, she curled into him, sound asleep. Trusting. Protectiveness rose inside him, a feeling he was beginning to feel was synonymous with Sabrina. She played tough, pretended she could take care of herself. But he understood now what she’d meant when she’d said he left when she needed him. Sabrina had no one she could just be with, no one she didn’t have to act tough around. And Ryan had made a decision tonight. He wanted to be that person, despite the risk of her using him to find herself and then taking off. He was all about risk and reward, and he wasn’t going to turn away from that formula with Sabrina.

He’d already lodged open the hotel door, so a kick gave him entry, and he carried her inside. Carefully balancing Sabrina, he shut them safely inside the simple, no-frills room. There was a bed, a small kitchen and a bathroom, and not much more.

Settling Sabrina on the bed, he expected her to wake up any minute. She didn’t move, completely knocked out. He tugged her high-heeled boots off one at a time and was about to tackle her jeans when she abruptly moaned and sat straight up. Wildly, she looked around trying to get her bearings before swallowing hard and half moaning, “Bathroom. I need a bathroom.”

Ryan pointed to the open door, and she scooted off the bed with newfound energy born of obvious desperation. Concerned, he followed, finding her hunched over the toilet, her hair draped over her face. Ryan sat down on the edge of the tub and lifted her hair, whispering comforting words as she fought the nausea.

After one particularly bad episode, she whispered, “I’m sorry.” Slowly, she leaned back on her heels. “I’m so sorry for all of this, Ryan. This really wasn’t how I would have liked this night to end up.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he assured her.

She leaned back on her heels again. “I must look horrible. Not exactly the way to make an impression.”

“You had me at the mud mask,” he teased.

She groaned at that. “Don’t remind me.” She tried to stand and wobbled.

Ryan quickly helped her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I have to shower,” she said. “I feel disgusting.”

“Maybe you should wait until morning,” he said, wishing he had a real tub.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “Really.”

Skeptically, he agreed and turned the water on for her. She seemed steady enough to undress on her own. “I’ll get you one of my shirts.” He grabbed a towel off the rack. “The hotel’s towels suck, but they get the job done.” He closed the toilet seat and set one on the edge so she could reach it easily. “And don’t even think about getting shy on me. I’m leaving the door open. I want to be able to hear you if you call me.”