Because I steer clear of anything even hinting at containing horseradish, it’s been a while since I’ve had a reaction. But I remember too well what happens once one gets started.
Suffice it to say, my night has just come to an end.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You absolutely do not have to do this.”
“Stop scratching.”
“I can’t help it.” I have to clench my fists and leave them at my sides as Kellen walks me back to my room after my hasty exit from the rehearsal dinner.
“It was either I walk you back or Hayley. I didn’t want her to miss anything tonight.”
“What about you? You’re supposed to be there with Zack.”
He waves this off, using the hand not holding a box of allergy medicine, so helpfully provided by the front-desk staff. “It’s not the same. Hayley is Kylie’s sister. Her only sister. This is important for them, for the whole family. I can always swing back over there once I’m sure you’re taken care of.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me though. I appreciate it, but I don’t need it.”
He looks me up and down as we come to a stop in front of my door. I can only imagine how horrific I must look, and frankly, I would rather avoid all mirrors once we’re inside.
“With all due respect, are you sure about that?” He leaves it there rather than continuing, which is good because I’m really not in the mood to deal with witty banter right now.
He follows me into the room and pours a glass of water from the carafe on my nightstand, so I can wash down two of the allergy pills. I know from experience that they work fairly quickly, though I’ll still be sort of itchy for the rest of the night.
“Oh my God!” I can hardly study myself in the mirror over the dresser. I look like somebody gave a toddler red finger paint and let them go crazy all over my skin. I’m practically covered in polka dots.
“It’s not that bad.”
I know he’s trying to be nice and he doesn’t deserve it, but I roll my eyes at him anyway. “It’s absolutely terrible. I can’t believe I let this happen!”
“Like you said, who puts horseradish in stuffed mushrooms? That’s so strange.”
“I love stuffed mushrooms too.”
When he snorts, I turn away from the mirror to glare at him.
“Sorry, it’s just that you sounded so sad. Like the stuffed mushrooms themselves had ruined your night.”
I snicker a little when I look at it that way, and I can tell he’s glad to see it. “Just my luck.”
“It could’ve been worse, I guess. Like some sort of deadly allergy.”
I notice he makes himself right at home, sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a good thing I’ve been picking up after myself these last few days or else I might have been mortified even further at the thought of him seeing my unmentionables strewn all over the place.
But this is a resort—and a nice one. It’s one thing to be a slob at home, but I wouldn’t want the staff to think I was totally gross.
“That’s true. Just a rash. As far as I know, it’s the only thing I’m allergic to.”
“Except for catty bi—women.” He winks.
I have to grin in spite of the absolute hell my skin is putting me through. I just want to tear it off, and that’s with the allergy pills making their way through my system.
His face scrunches. “You’re really going through it right now, aren’t you?”
“In a word, yes.”
He pours more water and presses the glass into my hand. “You think a shower or bath might help? Maybe they’ve got something at the front desk or at the little store that has basic necessities, that you could use for this.”
It warms my heart, how sweet he’s acting.
But it would be selfish of me to indulge in this. “Seriously, you should go back to the party. I might call over to the store to see if they have something, but I doubt it. It’s all right. I’ll be fine in a couple of hours.”
“Are you going to have dinner?”
“At some point, sure.” Honestly, it’s the last thing on my mind right now. I’m too busy trying to keep from scratching my skin off.
“What do you like?”
Is he for real?
“I don’t know. I like seafood. Chicken. Tofu, though I don’t think they have any of that here. Pasta. Most things really. The occasional burger.”
He nods, firm. “Okay. Do me a favor and run yourself a bath. Anything that will help you feel a little better. Drink a ton of water. I’ll be back in a half hour.”
“What? Kellen, you don’t have to—”
“A ton of water. Thirty minutes.”
He’s already out the door and halfway down the hall by the time I muster the energy to call his name again. It doesn’t matter. He’s a man on a mission.
What the heck have I gotten myself into this time?
There’s one thing I’m not going to argue about. I need to drink lots of water to flush my system as quickly as possible. It’s amazing really—the fact that just the tiniest bit of an allergen can set somebody off this way.
And to think, I spat most of the mushroom out. I can’t imagine how much worse it would have been if I’d swallowed it.
At least the resort includes fancy bath products on the bathroom counters. There’s a creamy bath foam among the bottles. I include a little of that in the water while running the bath, and then I slip out of my dress and hang it up on the hook on the back of the door.
So much for looking good tonight.
The bath is soothing though. Cool against my flushed skin. I soak for around fifteen minutes, until my fingers start to prune. By the time I’m rinsed off and wearing my pajamas, there’s a knock at the door.
The man is standing there with a cart. He literally loaded a cart with trays and dishes and then wheeled it all the way over here.
“Kellen! What are you doing?”
“Making sure you have something to eat and something to help your skin feel better.” I have no choice but to step aside as he starts pushing the cart into the room. “Don’t think it was easy, getting this thing. The kitchen staff didn’t want to give it up.”
“I can’t believe you went to this trouble!”
“It was no trouble.” He takes a bowl from the cart’s lower shelf and places it on my nightstand. “Plain oatmeal. To soothe your skin.”
“Oh my gosh. You had them make oatmeal for me?”
“To be fair, I think they have it around all the time and just reheat it in the morning.” He catches my eye and shrugs. “Even in the nicest resorts …”
I can’t even pretend to be offended by this since just dabbing some on the back of one of my hands is like heaven. “I’m sure this is going to look pretty,” I mutter in disgust with myself.
“Please. You could cover yourself in oatmeal from head to toe and be beautiful.” He starts pulling lids from trays next. “We have prime rib, salmon, and a mix of scallops and shrimp in scampi sauce over capellini.”
It all smells heavenly, but there are too many questions going through my head for me to enjoy it just yet. “Did you get this from the buffet?”