“Hey,” I rasped upon opening it.
Sure enough, there stood Thor aka blond Bigfoot aka my supposed friend Joe. He did not look happy. “Fuck’s sake, Alex. You had me worried sick.”
“What? Why?” I headed back over to the bed, sitting on the end of the mattress. Oh, beloved bed. All I wanted to do was crawl back in and do some more sleeping. For forever would work.
He closed the door and flicked on the light, making me wince. One bulging pharmacy bag and one neat brown paper bag hung from his right hand. “I called the front desk six times to check and see if you’d picked up the stuff from the pharmacy. They hadn’t heard a word from you.”
“Huh. I must have slept all day.”
“And half the night,” he said, frowning heavily. “It’s nine P.M. I was supposed to work until twelve, but I needed to come check on you. I’ve been standing out there banging on the door for ages. I was just about to get security to open it for me so I could make sure you weren’t dead.”
“Not dead.” I feebly waved a hand his way. “Yet.”
“You’re still too pale. If anything you seem worse.” Hands on hips, the man scowled down at me. This morning’s hoodie had been replaced by a nicely fitted blue thermal. A smooth mover or not, Joe had a drool-worthy physique. Big black boots covered his feet, and he wore black jeans. He looked a little dangerous, dressed all dark and acting so moody. Even if it was just my lazy white blood cells he was mad at.
“Sorry you had to leave work,” I said. “But I really am okay.”
Without comment, he placed the palm of his hand against my fevered brow.
“I actually feel a little better,” I lied.
“Yeah? Because you look like shit.”
“Don’t you flirt with me.” I coughed out a laugh. “I’m not your type, remember?”
The brown paper bag, he sat on a little table against the wall. But the pharmacy bag he upended onto the bed beside me. Cold and flu tablets, aspirin, Theraflu, Advil, Kleenex, throat lozenges, cough syrup, and more. Much, much more.
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a lot of stuff.”
“Wanted to make sure you had everything you might need.”
“But I only gave you twenty dollars.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
It didn’t exactly sit well with me, owing him. Maybe I’d try and slip another twenty into his coat or something. I picked up a slim purple tube. “Huckleberry lip balm?”
A shrug. He passed me a bottle of water out of the mini-bar. Then tore into the box of cold and flu tablets, popping two out of the packaging into my waiting hand.
“Thanks.”
Next, he started fussing with the contents of the brown paper bag. First he removed the lid from a large take-out cup, then added one of those disposable plastic spoons.
“Nell made you chicken noodle soup,” he said, handing the cup and spoon over. “Careful, it’s hot. Well, I hope it still is. There’s also some cookies in the bag.”
“I wish my nose was working. I bet it smells great.” Steam rose from the soup, warming my face. I blew on the liquid and took a small sip. Immediately my throat felt a bit better. Such was the almighty power of comfort food. “This is so nice of her. She’s the chef in your bar, right?”
He flinched. “Ah, no. I mean it’s not my bar. Eric owns a share of the bar along with her and Lydia. They all run different sections. I just work for them.”
“Right. Sorry, I forgot to forget what I thought I knew about you.”
Insert uncomfortable silence here.
The man got busy moving all of the pharmacy goods onto the table. I watched, sipping and stirring my soup. Eventually, he ran out of things to do and we were back to facing each other, a veritable life full of lies between us.
No, that was wrong. Nothing lay between us now. All of my romantic misconceptions were gone. Whatever I’d imagined could develop between me and “Eric” had died a sad and sorry death last night. In front of all of his friends, even. Little wonder Nell was making me soup. I must have looked like such a fool.
“You want me to run you a hot bath or something?” he asked.
“No. Thanks. I’m good.”
Once he’d gone I’d summon up some strength to do it for myself. A nice quick hot bath. Emphasis on quick. Baths and I had a bad history. Long story.
He shuffled his feet, crossed his arms. I stared off at the wall, embarrassed for some reason. Being in such close quarters was weird. Would it be rude to tell him to go back to work? It felt rude. The things he’d done for me today, he’d been kind, caring. I had no idea what he thought he’d achieve here. Guess the least I could do was not be a raging bitch. Besides, who had the energy?
I swallowed hard. “Actually, could I have the Kleenex, please?”
“Sure.” He tore open the box, setting it beside me.
“You’d make a great nurse.” I tried to smile. It felt wrong, wonky and weak, like the rest of me. Blergh.
An amused glance. Then more silence.
God, the spaces between words were so awkward. All difficult and embarrassing. And I was so off balance, I couldn’t help but fill them up with meaningless conversation. “Ever considered going into that field, Joe? Nursing?”
With both hands, he smoothed back his golden hair, getting it out of his face. “No. This is strictly a one-off gig.”
A pause. “I do about five shifts a week behind the bar and work with my dad a few days as well. He’s a carpenter, trained me too. He used to build houses until his arthritis got too bad. Now we just do renovations and maintenance mostly.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing as fancy as part-owning a restaurant and bar like my brother.”
Wow. I so wasn’t going near that comment. I drank some more of my soup, then fished out chunks of vegetables and noodles with the spoon. “That’s where the interest in old buildings came from, then, working with your father?”
“Yeah.” He sat down in the dumb decorative chair they always have in posh hotel rooms. Made for quite the combination, Joe and peach cushions.
Man, everything hurt. I sagged further, wilting before his very eyes. Having something hot in my stomach helped, but I seriously couldn’t wait for the drugs to kick in. Every inch of me ached, but my head was a total mess. Maybe I should get it removed. At least then my nose would stop running.
Steam might help me breathe. I gave the bathroom door a longing look. A bath was starting to sound nice, it just seemed so far away. Miles. States. And I smelled funky, sweaty. Must have had a fever while I slept. Just as well Joe was sticking to the other side of the room.
“You really do want that bath, don’t you?”
I just looked at him, waiting for my brain to cough up something to say.
“Look, Alex, it’s okay to let me help you. I’m not going to use it against you or something.”
“Ha.” I smiled for real. “That doesn’t make me sound paranoid or anything at all.”
“I’ve given you enough reason not to trust me. I get it.” With wrinkles all around his eyes, the guy gave me a truly pained look. The whole being-the-bad-guy thing really wasn’t sitting well with him.