23. Marathon

23

Marathon

Emma

The last few days are a blur. I’ve never felt so sick in my life. But I feel better today, thanks to Auston, who’s been working tirelessly to get me on my feet again. I’m not going to lie. Having someone take care of me is a nice change of pace. I’m always the one solving crises, arranging everything, and—in the case of Alice—killing innocent spiders. Well, I guess Deacon has taken over that role now. Still, it’s a feeling I’m not used to, and it’s oddly comforting.

“Hey,” Auston says, entering the room. “You’re up. Feeling better?” He’s wearing a surgical mask, just as he has for the last few days. I told him to look for a new room, or even let me go to another hotel, but he wouldn’t hear of it. And I was in no mood to argue.

“I am,” I mutter.

He ambles up to me and places a hand on my forehead. A seemingly banal gesture. Nothing sexy about a man checking your temperature—especially when you haven’t showered since yesterday. Right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

From the look of concern in his eyes to his gentle touch against my forehead, and his other hand burning into my shoulder as he brings me closer, I’m suddenly feverish again. Thank goodness that mask is creating a physical barrier between us.

“You seem better. Do you want anything else to eat?” he asks, and his hand grazes mine. Then, something happens. Something weird. My body becomes all tingly and warm and—butterflies. That’s it. The infamous butterflies-swarming-in-the-belly thing I’ve read about so many times. They’re here. No, no, no. They can’t be. I don’t do butterflies.

“Emma?” He frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I focus back on Auston. “Yes. M uch better. I was thinking of taking a shower, actually. See you later?”

Still looking concerned, he reluctantly nods. “Um, yeah. Okay.”

I wait until he’s out of the room before slumping back onto the couch. This can’t be happening to me. Why does Auston have to be here taking care of me? Why is he so perfect? I need to put some distance between us before he breaks my heart. Again.

After a shower and a bite to eat, I sit back down on the couch and scroll through the Netflix catalog. Shocking, I know. But in my defense, I’m still sick. I’m not really myself.

No matter how much I want to widen the gap between Auston and me, I still end up in the romance section, my eyes flitting between the many versions of him. Doctor Auston, Forest Guard Auston, CEO Auston, Baker Auston. Unfortunately, no Cowboy Auston yet. I really should suggest that one. Though I wouldn’t say no to a Mafia Boss Auston either. Oh, yes. Definitely the mafia boss. Phew, I’m back.

Eventually, I decide on Doctor Auston, the one we started watching the other day. I just need to see those abs again. Hey, just because I need to keep my distance in real life doesn’t mean I can’t allow myself a sneak peek. That’s one thing you don’t get i n a book. Maybe movie does trump book, just this time.

The door flies open, and I glance around frantically for the remote. Where is it? I can’t let him see that I’m—

“Watching one of my movies, are you?” Auston says, wearing a full grin.

Great . My eyes finally land on the remote. Of course I find it now. “I was bored. Just needed to pass the time.”

He chuckles. “I thought you had your entire book collection with you.”

“Oh, yeah. But I had a headache, and my eyes were hurting, so I decided to watch TV instead.”

Yeah, that’s genius. Because you don’t need your eyes to watch TV.

I clear my throat. “So, how was the shoot today? Did you guys wrap it up?”

“We did,” he says, and my shoulders relax. I thought he was going to push the fact that I’m watching his movie. I would have. “We got everything we needed. We’ll be leaving tomorrow and resuming production in the bookstore on Monday.”

“Perfect.” I lean back as he sits down next to me. “I’m ready to go home. I miss my bed, and Mr. Darcy. Being sick away from home is the worst.”

“I bet.”

I turn to him, my lips pulling into a smile. “But thank you for taking care of me. You didn’t have to.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Of course I did.” His gaze drops to my lips, and I force myself to look away.

“Why aren’t you wearing your mask anymore?”

“Is that really necessary? You look so much better.”

“No, I guess it’s not.” But it was pretty handy to have that million-dollar smile hidden.

“So, which movie did you like best? You had a whole marathon, didn’t you?”

My eyes shoot to the TV, and sure enough, my entire afternoon is on display with the last three movies marked as “watched.” Traitor.

“Well, I had nothing else to do.” I shrug. “And I thought you didn’t like discussing your movies.”

He smiles. “I never said that. I don’t like to watch them, but I’m fine talking about them. Especially with you.”

“You were great in all the roles.” I nod firmly. “But in that last one, I totally fell for Ben Legion.”

“What?” he exclaims. “He’s the villain. How can you fall for the bad guy?”

I chuckle. “What can I say? I ’m a dark romance gal. Villains will always have my heart.”

He sighs. “Huh. I should rethink how I choose my next roles. I’m definitely going for the bad guy next time.”

“You should,” I tease.

“Oh, and remind me to never introduce you to Ben.”

“Fine by me.” I suppress my smile. “I’m not really into actors anyway.”

“Ouch,” he says, pretending to be hit in the chest.

I bite my lip, flitting my eyes toward him. “Okay. Maybe I have space for just one.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He flashes me a big smile.

I want to return it, but the stupid butterflies are taking flight again. How are they back? We’re just talking.

No, Emma. You’re flirting , that annoying voice says in my head.

As if. I don’t do flirting.

Except I just did. It was just so natural, I barely registered it.

Doomed. I’m totally and utterly doomed. Over the span of three weeks, Auston Buckley has turned me into the heroine of a romance novel, and I’m not sure how to get out of it. Or if I even want to.