Page 32 of Bad Ball Hitter
“Don’t come in here,” she says when I reach the room. I don’t know what I expected to see, but her gaunt face and wild hair weren’t it. She throws up her hands when I step closer to form a stop sign. “Don’t get too close. I may be contagious.”
“I’m not worried about getting sick,” I say, concerned for the woman before me.
“I don’t want the Bear fans after me.”
I smile. Damn it. I can’t help it. Lila still has that sense of humor I always loved. That’s one thing I always liked: her ability to put everyone at ease with her humor. “And you’re still more important.”
Those expressive eyes meet mine, and my fingers ache with the need to touch her. To make sure she’s okay.
Jake pulls at my leg. “We need to go.”
“Okay, buddy.” I step backward, eyebrows drawn in concern. I don’t like leaving her like this. It doesn’t feel right. “I’m coming back.”
“Thanks so much for doing this. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’m not sure where those keys went. But seriously, you don’t have to come back.”
“I’ll only be gone a short while. Rest up.”
She follows us to the living room and lies down on the couch. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Leaving her was hard, but I found the drop-off point easy enough. Once I ensure Jake is set, I head back, and it isn’t long before I’m at her apartment.
I take in the woman curled up on the couch. Tangled blonde ends, sticking up as if she’d been electrocuted. Soft, cotton T-shirt that stretched thinly over her generous rack. Cute little sleeper shorts with ice cream cones that I suddenly crave to lick.
I slam my eyes shut, the memory of how she tastes lingering on my tongue.
Fucking asshole.
Here she is, lying there sick, and I’m drooling over her like some cheating ass roommate’s creepy boyfriend.
I push away those salacious thoughts and force a smile that I hope doesn’t look stalker-ish.
“Hey, there. Jake got off okay.” I walk over to her. “How are you feeling?”
“About the same. I can’t thank you enough for this. Jake has looked forward to this for weeks and didn’t want to miss it,” she says in a weak voice.
“That’s not a problem. How is Jake getting back home?”
“His friend’s dad will bring him. It was too late for them to pick him up when I called.” She shifts to get more comfortable. Her sleeper shorts ride up, showing more of her ass than I think she realizes. God, she’s always had a great ass.
“Have you had anything to eat?” I ask, diverting my gaze.
She glances at the kitchen and cringes. “No. Jake tried to make breakfast, but…” She pushes to her elbows as her words die off, but I motion for her to stay.
“I brought you some soup. Why don’t we try that?”
She nods. “That sounds good.”
But when I heated it and set it in front of her, she took one look at it and gagged. Placing her hand over her mouth, she beelines it to the bathroom.
The egg drop soup looks innocent enough, but considering the mess in the kitchen, there may have been better choices.
Suppressing a sigh, I follow her to the bathroom and apologize. She drops to her knees and barely reaches the stool when whatever is left in her stomach heaves out. I grab her hair and pull it out of her way. I feel helpless as she wretches.
“Guess I should’ve stuck with the traditional chicken noodle soup,” I say, trying to make light of the situation once she finishes.
Her shoulders shake. At first, I can’t tell if she’s crying or laughing, but relax once a snort fills the room.
“Yeah, I’m not sure anything will work with how I feel. But after Jake’s failed attempt at breakfast, I’m staying away from anything egg-related.”