Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

D el glanced at the clock again. Five minutes had gone by since he checked it last. "That can't be right," he muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry, did you say something to me?"

He glanced over at Penny, sitting at the bar, laptop open, fingers flying across the keys even as she looked at him. The woman was freaky smart and amazing with computers. She did freelance web design—including theirs—and often worked at Jack's before they opened. But today she was just here to hang with BJ. Still, nothing kept the uber nerd away from her precious computer for long.

"Oh, sorry Penny. No. I was just talking to myself."

She grinned. "I do that, too. All the time, actually. Usually when I'm coding." Her entire face blushed, reddish-brown freckles standing out against the pink. "I'm a huge proponent of the concept of rubber duck debugging."

Okay, he had no idea what that meant, but asking would only instigate an hour-long explanation where he'd be more lost in the end than when she started. He liked Penny, but the woman was so scary smart he had a hard time connecting with her. Made him wonder how she and BJ remained so close. His older brother may have scored near perfect on his SATs, but BJ knew how to speak layman terms.

"Uh-huh. Rubber ducking," he said.

Her nose wrinkled, fingers ceasing their furious typing. "Don't worry, I won't explain it to you. It's just a silly programming term."

Oh, thank God. Penny could bore the paint off a drying wall when she started her geek talk.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I was supposed to meet Cassie here half an hour ago to go over wedding plans and she hasn't shown." He gave a casual shrug that he totally didn't feel.

"Did you call her?"

No, he hadn't. He didn't want to seem desperate or clingy even though that's exactly what he felt at the moment. Cassie rarely showed up late to anything. She was a very punctual person. ‘If you're not five minutes early, you're five minutes late' had always been her motto. Whenever she did run late, she called or texted to let everyone know. This just wasn't like her.

Unless she's having second thoughts.

He shoved the idea away. She needed this to work as much as he did. Charlie had made up with her, he had soothed her worries about her witch of a cousin, everything was going great.

If everything is great where is she?

Glancing up at the clock again, he noticed two minutes had gone by. Fantastic.

He opened his mouth to say—hell if he had an explanation for not just calling her—but was saved by the chime of his cell.

"Excuse me." Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he exhaled his first relieved breath in the last forty minutes. "It's Cassie."

Penny smiled, going back to her computer.

Reading the text, Del's relief vanished. Worry settled in his chest, squeezing all air from his lungs.

Sick. Can't make it today.

The brief explanation had his mind whirling. Could she still be sick from yesterday? If so, that was one mighty hangover.

"Everything okay?" Penny asked, gaze still focused on her laptop.

"Cassie's sick."

"Oh." The clicking stopped. "Does she need anything?"

"Don't know, but I'm going to go check on her." She couldn't come to him, but he would sure as hell go to her. Make certain she was okay. That's what fiancés were supposed to do, right?

Heading out of Jack's, he hurried to Cassie's place, flying over the porch steps as he rushed to her front door. After a quick knock, he waited. And waited. Worry growing; he knocked again, louder this time. The sound of shuffled footsteps could be heard from beyond the door.

"Whoever it is, go away!"

Her shout made him smile. "No can do, Sassy."

His smile died when the door opened and he got a good look at her. She didn't look hungover. She looked sick. Very sick.

"Cassie?"

"Noooo, of course it had to be you."

She turned, walking back into the house, door wide open. Del took it for an invitation and followed her in, shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, I'm not okay!" She whirled back around, losing her balance. He reached out, grasping her arm to keep her steady. "I feel like crap."

She looked like crap—adorable crap—but still crap. Her face was bright with a splotchy flush, sweat dripped off her forehead, and her spiral locks were a tangled, frizzy mess. Poor woman looked like she'd been put through the ringer.

"I finally got over the hangover from hell yesterday, and then this morning I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck."

He pulled her closer, placing a hand on her forehead. Her skin burned like fire. Concern gnawed at him.

"Do you have a thermometer?"

"In the bathroom."

"Come on."

He started to tug her along, but she whimpered out a protest, sagging a little on her feet. Worry quickly morphing into panic; he scooped her up in his arms, hurrying up the stairs to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. Setting her on the toilet, he searched her medicine cabinet until he found the thermometer. She had one of those head scanners. Gently, he wiped the sweat off her forehead with a towel and ran the device along her brow. The instrument beeped, and he grimaced at the results.

"One hundred and two. We need to get you to the doctor." Or a hospital, the ER, hell he'd take a medicine man.

"I'm fine."

"You are not. You have a high fever." And he didn't like the look of her complexion either.

"They aren't going to see me for a fever. Not one under one-oh-three."

Placing the thermometer on the sink, he whipped out his phone, hitting the web's search engine. "Do you have a severe headache? Stiff neck? Shortness of breath?" he read from the list the Internet provided him.

"No, but I have a great big pain in my ass."

"You do? When did the pain start? Is it—" He cut himself off when he realized she was insulting him. "Really, Sassy?"

She gave him a small smile, and it eased some of his panic.

"Fine, you don't need a doctor, but you should take some medicine. It will help with any discomfort and might bring the fever down."

"I already took some an hour ago." She grimaced, leaning her head against the marble countertop. "I thought it might help, but…"

He hated seeing her in such misery. "We need to get your fever down." He knew a trick his mother used when he got sick as a boy. It always helped break a fever and made him feel tons better. "Do you think you could handle a cool shower?"

She nodded her head. "Oh God, yes, that sounds amazing."

Tucking his phone back in his pocket, he moved to her tub. It'd be better to give her a bath, but a shower would be quicker. He cranked the water, adjusting the temperature till the stream ran cool, not cold.

He turned back to Cassie, slumped over the edge of the sink. "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine."

But she didn't move. Worry surpassing every other thing in his mind at the moment, he crouched in front of her. "Cassandra, do you need me to help you get undressed?"

Her lips turned down in an adorably sad little pout. Nodding, she whimpered. "I don't feel good, Del."

"I know, sweetheart. But I promise this will make you feel better."

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, just about gutting him. Cassie was one of the strongest women he'd ever known. For her to show such a sign of weakness humbled him.

"Come on, let's get you undressed, and I'll put you in the shower."

She shook her head. He wouldn't force the issue if she wasn't comfortable with it, but she needed to break that fever, and this was the fastest way he knew how.

"I-I don't think I can st-stand on my ow-own." The words hiccupped out of her in choked sobs.

"Then I'll hold you up."

Rising to his feet, he quickly stripped off his T-shirt and jeans, leaving his boxer briefs on because as sick as she was, he wasn't entirely immune to her. Better to have a layer of protection.

After he divested himself of his clothing, he crouched back down, gently removing hers. He tugged the soft sleeper shirt with puppies on it up and over her head, laughing softly at her choice of sleepwear. How like Cassie to wear something so soft and cuddly, a total contradiction to what she showed the world. He knew better. Way down deep the woman had a creamy nougat center.

His laugh caught in his throat as he revealed what she wore beneath the sleep shirt. Nothing but a pair of skimpy black panties. Since he crouched in front of her, her breasts were directly at eye level. The glorious full globes stared him right in the face, taunting him with their perfection. Dusky rose-colored nipples quickly hardened in the cool air of the bathroom. His mouth watered to take one of those tempting buds between his teeth, worship it with his tongue until she cried out his name, begging for more.

"Delta?"

He glanced up into her sweat-glistened face and cursed himself for being the biggest asshole in the world. Here she was, sick, in pain, and he was ogling her. What a jackass! He'd kick his own butt later, right now he needed to tend to Cassie.

"Panties on or off?" He was giving her the choice because he didn't know which one he wanted more. On the one hand, he'd get to see Cassie in all her true glory. On the other, he needed to lock this shit down, and seeing more of her delectable naked skin would not help. "Cassie?"

"Off. You'll just have to take them off anyway after the shower."

True. Sonofabitch!

"Off it is."

"Just keep your mind out of the gutter, Jackson."

He chuckled. "That's a tall order, Brown. I don't know if you realize, but you are one sexy woman."

"Oh really?"

He focused his gaze on her face as he slipped his fingers in the soft scrap of silk, gently tugging it down her hips and legs, then tossing it God knows where.

"Absolutely." He kept his tone serious so she'd know he wasn't messing around. "You are beautiful, never have any doubt, but I would never take advantage of this situation. All I'm going to do is hold you in the shower so we can bring your fever down."

Her lips turned up in a soft smile. "I know. You're a good man, Del. I trust you."

Damned if that didn't puff his chest up with pride. Without another word, he scooped a naked Cassandra Brown into his arms and stepped into the shower. The cool, pounding water hit his back. Once he'd given her a moment to adjust to the sprinkles flying around them, he slowly turned, letting the water cascade over Cassie. She moaned, the sound quickly turning into a sob. Horrified he was doing everything wrong, he tugged her closer to his chest.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No, it feels amazing." She snuggled her head into his chest, a soft little sniffle escaping her. "I just hate being sick. It sucks so much and I'm not a very good patient. My parents always said so."

Damn. He wished her parents were still alive so he could give them a piece of his mind. They sounded pretty selfish and shitty to him. Who told a sick kid they were a bad patient? Parents were supposed to kiss boo-boos away and bring chicken soup and stuff. Not berate a child for complaining about feeling bad.

"You're fine, sweetheart. Just relax and let the water do its work."

They stayed in the shower for twenty minutes. Del held Cassie close to his chest, reveling in the strange sensations filling him: pride, worry, lust. He tried not to think of the last one too much, but it was hard—and so was he unfortunately.

When her fingers started to prune, he shut the water off, stepped out of the shower, and dried her with the thick terrycloth towel hanging on the rack on the wall. He stripped off his wet briefs and hung them over the showerhead to dry. Wrapping a second towel he'd found under the sink around his waist, he scooped Cassie into his arms again and carried her to her bedroom.

"Pajamas?" he said.

"In the top dresser drawer."

He left her on the bed and went to retrieve her nightclothes. The dresser drawer revealed a plethora of nightshirts, each more adorable than the next. He chose a soft yellow one with a daisy on the front. It still kicked him in the teeth to know Cassie wore such cutesy PJ's. He'd have to tease her about it once she felt better.

"Arms up," he said as he gently tugged the nightshirt over her head. He tossed her towel on the floor. "Now I want you to lie down. I'm going to get you some soup."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need liquids."

If she'd felt better, he knew she'd flip him off at his demanding tone, but as it was, she simply flopped down on the bed. Ten minutes later, he returned with a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. He'd also tugged his jeans back on. For her comfort and his self-preservation.

"Cassie." He set the bowl on her nightstand, sitting on the bed beside her. "Time to eat."

"Noooooo. Don't wanna."

He chuckled. She was a difficult patient. Odd, but he found her obstinate attitude endearing. "Come on, sweetheart. Just take a couple of sips for me. Please."

"If I do will you let me sleep?"

"All night long."

She grumbled, sitting up against the backboard. She lifted a hand, but he didn't trust her in her weakened state. He wasn't going to risk her dumping soup all over her lap. Grabbing the bowl, he dipped the spoon into the broth and brought it up to her mouth. She rolled her eyes, but opened for him. Once she'd eaten half of the bowl he let her slip back down to her pillow.

He grabbed the thermometer and checked her temperature again, pleased to see it had gone down two degrees. She turned on her side, facing away from him. He gently stroked her hair, still slightly damp from the shower, the soft strands gliding against his fingers. She sighed softly, murmuring something about how nice it felt. He continued stroking her, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing. It had killed him to see her so sick. He'd panicked, forgetting everything he knew about colds and fevers, just wanting to get her help, get her well. Once again, it hit him how big a place Cassie took up in his life. How much he truly cared for her.

"Delta?"

"Yeah, Cassie?"

"Can…can you stay with me? For just a little while?"

The softly spoken question tugged at his heart, the organ he always thought immune to women and serious relationships. What the hell was happening?

"Yeah, sweetheart. I can stay." He'd already texted his brothers while making her soup, informing them Cassie was sick and he wouldn't be in to work tonight. They understood. Kelley could handle Jack's for the night.

Pulling back the covers, he slipped in behind her. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back against him. She snuggled in, wiggling her bottom against his crotch in an innocent manner. Didn't matter. His dick still received the message that it was party time. He told his unruly member to calm the hell down.

"Del," she said, her tired voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Leaning forward, he kissed her temple softly, relieved to feel it cooler than before. "Of course, what are fiancés for?"

"Fake fiancé."

"Right. Fake." But damned if he wasn't having a hard time remembering that.