Page 100 of Poison and Wine
Oh my God. It was Callum, not Lorna. He hadn’t left me alone. Although pleasure surged through me, I peeked out from the covers to glare at him. “Bastard,” I muttered.
He had the audacity to chuckle. “Such language.”
“Please just go away and leave me in pain.”
He eased down beside me on the bed. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take care of my dear hungover wife in her hour of need?”
Although I was thrilled he stayed, I still couldn’t help wondering why. As I pulled the covers back down, I stared suspiciously at him. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s not one.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He held out a mug to me. “This will help you get back on your feet.”
I pushed myself up in bed. “What is it?”
“An Irish hangover cure.”
As I took the mug from him, I peered down at the steaming, pale contents. When a whiff of the concoction entered my nose, I frowned. “It smells awful.”
Callum chuckled. “It tastes awful, too. But it’s the only thing that will keep you from being miserable today.”
After blowing rivulets across the drink’s surface, I leaned forward to sip cautiously. As soon as the contents hit my stomach, I gagged. “Oh God,” I muttered.
“Trust me, I know.” He jerked his thumb at the bathroom. “I’m going to grab a shower. You better empty that mug by the time I’m done.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And what if I don’t?”
“Then I’m going to take you over my knee and spank your stubborn arse.”
I gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!” I winced the moment I shouted as it sent pain echoing through my head.
“Try me, Kitten.”
When he turned his back to go into the bathroom, I very maturely stuck out my tongue. Although I was mildly curious about whether or not he would really enact his threat, I decided for my overall well-being it was better to drink the tonic, even though I gagged with each and every sip.
After I was done, I leaned over to set the mug on the nightstand. When I rolled back over, my eyelids felt too heavy. The next thing I knew I was sliding back into sleep.
When I woke again, it no longer felt like I was being assaulted with a hammer. I didn’t feel nauseous anymore, nor did my body ache all over. Callum hadn’t been lying about the drink. It was a miracle worker.
“Feeling better?” a deep voice questioned.
I opened my eyes to see Callum sitting across from me wearing gray sweatpants and a shirt. He pushed his computer off his lap and rose to his feet. My mouth ran positively dry as I watched him close the distance between us.
“Much better. Thank you for the drink.”
He smiled. “I’ve had to use it more times than I can count.”
After pushing myself up in the bed, I frowned. “Why do I feel sticky all over?”
“The drink makes you sweat the alcohol out.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to draw you a bath?”
My heart thrummed wildly in my chest at his kindness. “That would be nice.”
