Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

“No.”

“The flu is going around,” he says and I shake my head. “Just get me home where I can die in peace.”

“You can’t do that.” That’s Van’s voice now. “We finally got to the good stuff, so you can’t die yet.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I whisper.

“Should I ride with you two?” Beau asks.

“Maybe,” Van says, uncertainty heavy in her voice. “If he needs help up to his bedroom, I won’t be able to assist much.”

“Good point.”

“No,” I say in between heaves. “We can do this.”

I hold my hand out and someone puts a cold, wet cloth in it. I wash my face again and stand up. “Let’s go.”

“I’m helping you out to the car, and if I think you need it, I’ll go home with you too.”

“I don’t care,” I reply honestly. I feel like I’m dying. That my insides are cramped so tightly, my body is trying to shove everything out of my mouth.

And, it’s succeeding.

Fucker.

“Have you been around anyone who had the flu?” Van asks. She’s rubbing circles on my back, and it bounces back and forth between feeling like heaven and the most annoying thing ever.

“I work with hundreds of strangers every week,” I remind her. “Probably.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says as the elevator doors open and the valet has indeed pulled my car to the curb. Van and Beau help me into the passenger seat.

“Here! Take this,” Mallory says, handing me an empty ice bucket. I didn’t even know she was with us.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Beau asks.

“We’ll be fine,” I reply. “I can walk up the stairs to the bedroom. And if I can’t, I have a guest suite downstairs that will do fine.”

He nods and looks at Van, who’s just climbed in the driver’s side and is adjusting the seat. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will,” she promises and starts the car.

“It feels weird to have someone else drive my car.”

She reaches over and pats my leg. “I’m so sorry this is happening. You look miserable.”

“I feel miserable.” I can feel my stomach muscles begin to contract, so I push the button to roll the window down. The cool air feels good on my face. “I feel drunk.”

“And you didn’t even get to have the fun part to get there,” she says. Her voice is throaty and smooth, and it soothes the rough edges of this hell.

It feels like it’s taking forever, and the cool air isn’t doing the trick anymore.

“Pull over.”

“We’re—”

“Pull the fuck over.”

She complies, and she isn’t even at a full stop when I open the door and practically roll out of the car to the curb and hurl some more.

Jesus, how do I still have anything in me?

Suddenly, Van is behind me, pulling the tux jacket off. That feels much better. I’m hot and having the chills, all at the same time.

Finally, I dump myself back in the car and Van drives us to my place. I’ll feel like an ass tomorrow, but I can’t wait for her. I have to hurry or I won’t make it.

I run up the stairs to my bedroom, stripping out of my clothes along the way, and head right for the master bathroom.

“I’m behind you!” she calls out. I can’t reply, I can only kneel on the cold tile, in my underwear, and heave into the toilet.

What the fuck do I have?

Finally, I just collapse on the floor, shivering, but loving the way the cold floor feels against my hot skin. It feels too tight, too hot.

I’m sweating like crazy.

“In the shower,” Van instructs and helps me into the standing shower. I’m upright, leaning on both hands against the tile. She turns on the water and I don’t even flinch at the burst of cold water.

“Too hot,” I say when it starts to warm up.

“I don’t want to give you hypothermia.”

“Please, it’s too hot.”

She complies, turning it to the coldest setting, and I can finally feel my stomach and organs begin to relax. I think the worst of the throwing up is finally over.

“Worst hour of my life,” I mutter.

“It’s only been thirty minutes,” she informs me. “If you’re not feeling any better, I’m calling an ambulance.”

“I am,” I say and reach blindly to hold her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re an angel.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

I glance over at her and frown. She’s sopping wet in her sexy new dress. Her feet are bare.

“I ruined your dress.”

“It’s just a dress,” she says soothingly.

“How are the shoes?”

“They’re fine. I took them off when you made me pull over.”

“Good. I like them.”

She kisses my bicep. “I’m not leaving you tonight.”

“Good. I don’t want you to. You’re safe from my sexual advances tonight.”

She smirks. “I don’t think I’m ever in danger with you.”

“I’m too weak to argue.”

“You stand here. I’m going to go pull your covers back and get you something cold to drink. Oh, and fresh clothes.”

“I’ll sleep naked,” I reply. “I’m so fucking hot.”

“The water is ice cold.”

“Must be one hell of a temperature.”

“I need a thermometer,” she mutters.

“I have one in the medicine cabinet.”

“Great. Wait here for me, and I’ll help you to bed.”

She leaves, and about ten seconds later, I turn off the water and dry off, peeling out of my wet underwear.

I’m not going to make her help me to the bed. I’m not a fucking invalid.

I grab a fresh pair of underwear, deciding not to give her the shock of her life tonight, and climb under the covers.

“So, you’re not great at taking direction,” she says as she comes into the room.

“Nope.”

“So noted,” she says and sticks the thermometer in my ear. “Jesus, Ben.”

That’s what I want her to say when I’m inside her.

“You have a fever.”

“That I knew, sugar.”

She grins down at me, and I swear to God, she’s a fucking angel. An angel that I don’t deserve, but I’m so damn grateful for.

“But it’s not going to kill you.”

“Feels like it.”

“I know.” She kisses my forehead and then places a cold towel over it and I want to just ask her to marry me. “Go to sleep, Ben. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I want you to be here every time I wake up.





Chapter Seven


Savannah

Did I do the right thing?

He’s restless in his sleep, and he won’t stop sweating. I Googled his symptoms, and that about gave me the anxiety attack of the century.

Basically, he could have the flu or he could be dying from organ failure.

Or about a million other things.

The most logical is the flu.

My phone vibrates next to me, making me jump a foot in the air.

“Hi, Eli.”

“How’s Ben?”

“I think he’s doing better,” I reply, my eyes never leaving the man in question. “He’s not throwing up anymore. But he’s sweaty and he looks super uncomfortable while he’s sleeping.”

“You’re staying with him?” I can hear the unspoken question in his voice.

“Yes, and no, I’m not in the bed with him, but if I was, that would be our business.”

“Geez, I didn’t even say anything.”