“We’re at a greenhouse.” Low and soothing, he kept his voice calm. “Whatever the plants were at your house, they must grow them here too.”
Had my motherboard not been fried, I might have come to the same conclusion. “You’re too close.”
“I haven’t moved.” He eased back a few steps anyway. “Is that better?”
“No,” I moaned, sinking to my knees. “You’ve got to leave.” A throbbing heat curled up through my middle, and some bastard drove a spike of ice through my left eye. “Please, Cole. Just go. I can’t think with you here.”
A primal growl vibrated through the space between us, and every inch of my skin lit up as though he had reached out and stroked me. Good Lord, the ache had me crawling toward him on all fours, and he didn’t have the sense to run.
Why wasn’t he running?
“Bou-Bou?” Rixton skidded to a stop in front of me. “Are you hurt?”
The only answer I had for him was the furious roar clogging my throat at having my hunt interrupted. My fingers curved into claws, and the urge to slash out at him, punish him, left me with the phantom sensation of his blood slicking my fingers. I wet my lips and imagined the hot, metallic taste.
And then I tossed my cookies.
“Shit.” He leapt out of range of the vomit splatter. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Allergic reaction,” I rasped through swollen lips.
Elbows wobbling, I crawled on hands and knees toward the ruined house and away from the nursery. When Rixton offered me his hand, I recoiled. I felt sick. Physically unwell. Mentally ill.
I had roared at Rixton like I had swallowed a lion.
I had imagined the weight of his blood coating my hands.
I had barely restrained myself from committing an unforgivable act of unprovoked violence.
“What can I do to help?” Rixton hovered over me like a moth. “Should I call your dad? Harold? One of your boyfriends?”
“Water.” I kept crawling, ignoring his jibe, but I was starting to attract attention. “Need water.”
Rixton bolted for the greenhouse behind us and returned moments later with a hose pouring icy water. He held it out to me in expectation I would want to drink or rinse out my mouth. I took the thing from him and held it above my head, showering my entire body with a shock of frigid liquid that extinguished the embers of my earlier desire and the rage at having been thwarted. I sat there under the spray until the weight of several pairs of eyes fell on me, and the soft clicking noises phones made when they snapped pictures cleared the haze.
“Put your phones down before I smash them, and give her some goddamn privacy,” Rixton snarled at the gathering. “If any pictures show up online or in the paper, I’ll know one of you are responsible. I will find that person, and I will make their life a living hell. Are we clear?”
The group dispersed after that, a few guys flashing their phones as if to prove they had erased the images, but even more stomped off pissed at being called out for assholish behavior. I reached over to rest my palm on the top of his shoe and croaked, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for demanding they treat you like a person and not a byline. Jesus, Bou-Bou. Sometimes I wonder what Sherry and I were thinking having a kid. Bringing Nettie into all this ugliness.”
Sometimes he wasn’t the only one.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rixton didn’t waste his breath suggesting we go to the hospital. I picked myself up, skin too sensitive for contact, and let him bundle me in a blanket he’d stolen from the back of an ambulance. Once he had me tucked in the cruiser, he made a beeline for the nearest drugstore and carved himself out a parking space in front of the sliding glass doors. He came out swinging a plastic bag and got behind the wheel.
“Drink this.” He jabbed a bendy straw through the foil seal on a bottle of Benadryl and passed it over to me. “We’ve got to get the swelling down.”
Arguing with him would get me nowhere. I accepted the small bottle and started sipping. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to chug this stuff.”
“We are going back to my place,” he informed me. “You are going to shower, you are going to sleep in our guest room, and Sherry is going to mother hen you. I would threaten to cock you, but that sounds both sexual and violent. So just trust me when I say I’ll be getting my rooster on too. You are going to allow this, because we love you, and you almost made me shit myself back there.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled around the straw.
“You’ve been acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs for weeks. Jane Doe, Maggie, the super gator attack. Plus the hot mess with Timmons and his pet vulture. Your dad’s relapse.” A very human growl revved up his throat. “Life is kicking you in the lady bits, hard, and I’ve got no way of shielding you without ending up embroiled in either a sexual harassment or divorce lawsuit.”
“I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” I smacked my lips, but the fake cherry flavor burned all the way down. “Things will level off soon.”
“That’s not good enough, Bou-Bou.” He slashed his hand through the air. “Tell me you’re okay, or tell me you’re not, but tell me the truth. If you’re sinking, if all this is too heavy for you, I’m sticking out my hand. All you have to do is grab on, and I will haul your ass out of that water before you go under.”
Tears welled, threatening to fall, but I couldn’t find my voice. All I could do was nod my thanks.
A copper tang soured the cherry aftertaste on my next pull of Benadryl, and I couldn’t swallow hard enough to clear the thickness in my throat. The crimson liquid, viscous and rich, turned my stomach when I licked a sticky drop off my thumb.
“Pull over.” I clamped a hand over my mouth. “I’m going to be sick again.”
“Hold tight.” He guided us off the shoulder of the road. “Do you need me to hold your hair?”
“No.” I fell out the door and collapsed in the grass on my knees as I voided my stomach.
All those cracks in my fa?ade that had everyone so worried? Pretty sure this counted as one of them.
Sherry fussed over me for a good hour before tucking me in the twin bed in the guest room with a promise she would call Uncle Harold and let him know I was playing houseguest for the morning. She and Nettie were up for the day, but Rixton was beat, and I was too. Tucked under the covers like I was a kid again, I listened to the clink of dishes in the kitchen and the comforting babble of my goddaughter.
I was staring at the ceiling, unable to relax into sleep, when a thump at the window drew my attention.
Cole filled the opening with his wide shoulders, and I turned onto my side to get a better look. I expected him to ask for an invite, but he made no move to raise the glass. Smart man to keep a barrier between us. He brought his phone up to his ear, and mine rang seconds later.
“Hey.”
My jaw stretched on a yawn. “Hey yourself.”
His gaze swept over me from head to toe before settling on my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great.” Talk about an understatement. “This time my reaction was off the charts.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about a cumulative effect. There’s a good chance it was the sheer number of plants that overwhelmed your senses.” He hesitated. “Has it worn off yet?”
“Rixton made me drink a bottle of Benadryl, which I mostly vomited right back up, but it seemed to help.”
“Benadryl is a histamine blocker.” The tight bunch of his features eased into thoughtful lines. “That might explain how it brought you down so fast. I’ll run the possibility past Thom and see what he can mix up to inoculate us against the plant.”
“It’s a good thing I can’t shift the way you can.” I rubbed the heel of my palm over my heart, as though any cracks forming would fan out from that point. “I made a spectacle of myself. Rixton threatened all the wannabe photogs, but I’m not holding my breath.”