James Bravo's Shotgun Bride. Christine Rimmer
Читать онлайн книгу.
“It’s okay, take it easy. You’re okay, okay...” He kept saying that, “You’re okay,” over and over in that deep, velvety voice of his. She didn’t feel okay, not in the least. But she was in no position to argue the point, with all her attention focused on the grim job of ejecting what was left of her lunch.
She gagged for what seemed like such a long, awful time. But then, finally, when there was nothing left inside her poor belly, the retching slowed and stopped. Panting, trying to even out her breathing, she waited to make sure there would be no surprises.
“Better?” he asked, still in that low, gentle, comforting voice.
Addie groaned and nodded. “Would you...?” Sentences. Whole sentences. “Go. I’ll be all right. Just...go on out. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Uh, thank you. I’m sure.” She flushed away the mess and straightened with care, clutching her shoulder bag closer, physically unable to face him right then.
She felt him back from the stall, the warmth and size of him retreating. He said, “I’ll be right outside, if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” She stared, unblinking, at the tan wall above the toilet, willing him to go.
And at last, he did. She heard the door open and shut and instantly released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Slowly, with another long sigh, she turned to confront the empty space behind her. On rubbery legs, she went to the sink and rinsed her face and her mouth. At least there were Tic Tacs in her purse. She ate four of them, sucking on them madly, grateful beyond measure for their sharp, minty taste. She brushed her hair and checked her T-shirt for spills. Really, she looked terrible, hollow-eyed and pasty-faced. But at least her stomach had stopped churning now that it was empty.
Note to self: Never eat again—and get out there and tell poor James that you are fine and he can go.
Smoothing her hair one last time and settling her purse strap firmly on her shoulder, she returned to the waiting room.
He was sitting across the room in the row of padded chairs, busy on his fancy phone. She got maybe two steps in his direction before he glanced up and saw her. He jumped to his feet, his handsome, square-jawed face so serious, his beautiful eyes darkened with concern.
For her.
Okay, he really was a good person. And he shouldn’t be so concerned about her. He should find himself a nice woman, one who didn’t have all her issues, one who believed in true love and forever. Clearly, the guy deserved a woman like that.
She marched right up to him and aimed her chin high. “You have been...amazing. I can’t thank you enough for everything. And my sister will be here before you know it, so there isn’t any need for you to—”
“Stop.” He actually put up a hand. And then he took her by the arm again, causing all those strange, heated sensations to pulse along her skin. “Sit down before you fall down.” He took her other arm, too, and then he turned her and carefully guided her down into the chair where he’d been sitting. The chair was warm from his body, and that felt both enormously comforting—and way too intimate, somehow.
Once he had her in the chair, he just stayed there, bent over her, his big hands gripping the chair arms, kind of holding her there, his face with its manly sprouting of five-o’clock shadow so close she could see the faint, white ridge of an old scar on the underside of his chin. It was a tiny scar, and she wondered where he might have gotten it.
She stared up at him, miserable, wishing for a little more gumption when she needed it. “It’s not right that you have to be here. It’s not fair, after...everything. Given the...situation. James, I’m taking total advantage of you and I hate that.”
“You’re not. Stop saying you are. I’m here because I want to be here.”
She laughed. It was a sad laugh, almost like a sob. “Having a great time, are you?”
“Wonderful.”
“Ha!”
He let go of the chair arms and rose to his height. “And you’ll feel better if you eat something.”
“Oh, no.” She pressed a hand to her belly, which still ached a little from the aftermath of losing everything that had been in it, including what felt like a good portion of her stomach lining. “Uh-uh. What I need is never, ever to eat again.”
“A little hot tea and some soda crackers. You should be able to keep that down. Then later, I’ll get you some soup.”
She glared up at him. “What I really hate...”
“Tell me.”
“...is that tea and soda crackers sound kind of good.”
His fine mouth twitched at the corners. “Sugar?”
“Yes, please. Two packets.”
“Don’t budge from that chair. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Addie drank her tea and ate four packets of soda crackers. She felt better after that, and she told James so. He nodded approvingly as he munched on the turkey sandwich he’d brought back from the cafeteria along with her tea and crackers.
Actually, his sandwich looked kind of good, too. She tried not to stare at it longingly.
But the man missed nothing. He chuckled and held out the other half to her.
She should have refused it. It wasn’t right to take the guy’s food. He was probably starving. She knew she was. And just to prove it, her stomach rumbled.
“Take it,” he said, those blue eyes all twinkly and teasing. “I know where to get more.”
She did take it. Ate it all, too. And felt a whole lot better once she did.
A few minutes after she’d demolished half his sandwich, her cell rang. It was Carm, who said that her mother-in-law was staying with the kids and she and Devin were on the way.
“A couple of hours and we’re there,” Carmen promised. “How’s PawPaw?”
“In surgery, which is going to take at least three hours from what the surgeon said. When you get here, they’ll still be operating on him.”
“Anything you need?”
She longed for a toothbrush. And she still needed to find someone to take care of Moose and the horses back at the ranch. But she could call her neighbors herself. And she didn’t want her sister wasting her time stopping at a drugstore. “Just you. Just get here as fast as you can.” Carmen promised she would do exactly that and they said goodbye.
Addie got to work trying to find someone to look after the livestock. But the Fitzgeralds, who had twenty acres bordering Red Hill, were off visiting relatives in Southern California. And Grant Newsome, Levi’s longtime friend, had put his house and acreage up for sale and gone to Florida to live near his oldest daughter and her family.
She was trying to figure out who else she might try when James suggested, “How about Walker McKellan? He and his wife, my cousin Rory, would be happy to help. They’re not that far from Red Hill.” Walker and Rory lived at Walker’s guest ranch, the Bar N, which was maybe eight miles from the Red Hill ranch house.
Addie knew Walker, but not that well. He’d been more than a decade ahead of her in school. And Rory was an actual princess from some tiny country in Europe. Addie had met her just once and been impressed with how friendly and down-to-earth she was. “I hardly know them and I’m sure they’re busy and don’t have time to—”
“Stop,” James said again, in the same flat, dismissive tone he’d used on her when she tried to tell him to go. “I know them. And I know they’ll want to help. I’m calling them.” He had his phone out