Page 24 of Cabin Fever Baby
The soft white lights went sparkly followed by a rush of black and a twisting stomach. There wasn’t anything in it, but no way in hell was I going to dry heave in front of my Christmas angel.
Fuck.
I slammed my eyes shut and blew out a slow breath.
When I opened them again, I noticed the end table pulled out beside the couch with a bottle of water and three pills set in the center.
She really was an angel.
I grabbed the bottle with shaky fingers and fumbled the cap off, swallowing half the bottle before I slowed. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. That probably wasn’t a goodmove, but instead of heaving the water out again, it settled my stomach.
The fuzzy, soft blanket dripped off the couch, leaving me in just my boxers and undershirt. I looked around the room and found my jeans draped over a chair near the fireplace along with my ancient SU sweatshirt. My sneakers sat neatly beneath the chair.
I snatched the blanket of the floor and covered my long legs and my junk. Then my gaze landed on my angel on another couch stationed kitty corner from me. She was curled under another of the fuzzy blankets, her blond hair shining even in the low light from the tree and the fire.
Her name wasn’t Angel, but I was a little blurry on her real one.
I was pretty sure it was odd.
Water?
Ocean. Right, she was Ocean.
Even if Angel suited her more after her heroic save. She wasn’t overly tiny since I was pretty sure she had fit right under my chin. The quick flash of her tucking her face into my neck for a second left me a little off-balance.
That shefitwas the crazy part.
A stranger felt better in my arms than any woman I’d dated in my lifetime.
I swung my feet to the floor, testing my queasy level. I touched my hand to my head and found some sort of bandage. I hissed at the goose egg that was forming from the accident.
Shit. The accident.
I lurched to my feet and the room tilted.
My couch angel sat up suddenly, her blanket falling away to show plaid sleep pants with thick red socks pulled up over the hems. A black sweatshirt fell off one shoulder.
“You’re awake.” Her eyes went wide as they bounced from my boxer briefs to my chest, then face, and back down before she slapped her hands over her eyes. “Sorry!”
“Think you already got a look since my jeans are over there on the chair,” I said dryly.
“They were caked in snow.” She split her fingers open and peeked. “I didn’t look...much. Santa gnomes were a new one.”
“Boxers of the month.” As I laughed, my head ached like a bitch. I grabbed the blanket off the couch and wrapped it around my middle before I shuffled over to the front door. I tried to peek out the window beside the door, but I couldn’t see much more than a staggering amount of snow.
She padded over beside me. “It’s been snowing like that for hours now.”
“What time is it?”
She unearthed her phone from the pocket of her sleep pants. “Three.”
“God, how long have I been out?” I glanced down at her. She was even more stunning now that I was semi-coherent. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and looked soft as a cloud.
“For a while. Eight, maybe?”
“Wow.” I reached behind my neck to try and fix my wayward hair. It was curly as hell, and I was well past my usual three-week haircut. “Um, thanks for saving me.”
“You’re welcome. Not every day a man crashes into my lawn.”