Page 46 of Quarterback Sneak

“Ivy, make sure Sam has plenty of water. I’ll call a doctor friend of mine and arrange for a house call. You sit tight and if his condition changes, call 9-1-1. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Ivy hung up the phone and grabbed a washcloth from the sink. She couldn’t just sit still and do nothing. She owed it to him. “How many doctors are on his contact list? He seems to be able to pull them out of the clouds.”

“Some people collect coins, Howler collects favors. He’s an avid golfer and a damn good one. In the swanky country club these rich guys like to bet. H—” Sam blanched before he curled his arms around the toilet bowl and hung his head over the edge.

“Sam, are you ok?” She placed her hand against his forehead. Warm to the touch but not hot. She forced her shoulders down and away from her ears.

“Fine, never been better.” His voice sounded tinny from the reverberation of the bowl. “Now go away.”

“I can’t leave you. You’re sick and—”

“Being sick is humiliating enough without you hovering.” Sam kicked the door shut with his good leg, blocking her out.

“Sorry. I’m just concerned.” The cat rubbed against her leg, her squashed face raised in welcome. Ivy picked the animal up, a stray she’d taken in. She’d never been a cat person but the homely feline had scratched a way into her heart. Like the man on the other side of the door.

“Are you still out there?” Sam asked after a few moments.

She rocked from foot to foot. The pendant on the chain around her neck swayed and the cat swatted at it. Ivy clasped the jade to stop the action. Come on Howler, I wish you would hurry. Her heart in her throat, she leaned against the door panel. “Yes. Are you getting worse? Do you need me to call emergency?”

“Are you any good on the computer? My laptop crashed and I can’t open my grant proposal. It’s corrupted.”

The odd question threw her. He was seriously ill and he was worried about his computer? “I know a little bit. Have you tried opening it on another computer?”

“I didn’t have another computer.”

It seemed strange to be sitting on the other side of the door while Sam locked himself in the bathroom. “I have a laptop you can use. Did you make a copy?”

“It’s corrupted too.”

She stared up at the ceiling and mouthed a silent curse. Could things get any worse for him? “You lost your proposal. Aren’t those usually small, just a few pages?”

“This one is just under twenty-three but it’s very complex and it’ll take a lot of time to reconstruct and I don’t have a lot of time before the window for submission is up. Maybe you could take it to a computer repair shop for me and see if they can recov—”A horrible retching ended his sentence.

She cuddled closer to the cat and resisted the mad desire to rush inside and verify he wasn’t at deaths door. He’d made it clear he didn’t want her assistance. The sounds from the other side dissipated and she cleared her throat. “Sam, are you sure you don’t need me? I can help.”

“I could use some Gatorade and an ice pack for my knee.”

“Ice pack and Gatorade, you got it.” She rushed to the kitchen and sitting the cat down on the bar stool, she retrieved the items.

A knock sounded and she spun on her heel, striding to the door. Turning the knob, she stepped back, allowing Howler to enter. “Thank God you’re here.”

Howler strode into the apartment, all expensive suit and no-nonsense attitude. Although he wasn’t as tall as Sam and possessed a leaner build, he was physically imposing. “How’s he doing? If he has food poisoning, I assume he’s in the bathroom.”

“Yes. He had some soup with tainted hamburger. It had started to turn bad and it accidently got put in some soup and he ate it and I—” She snapped her jaw shut, cutting off the unnecessary discourse while fighting the rush of tears.

Howler draped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll be okay. Stop freaking out. The doctor is on the way.”

“Am I freaking out? Yes, I guess I am.” She wiped damp palms down her apron, willed her pulse to slow, and halted a hysterical laugh.

“No need to apologize.” Howler dropped his arm and offered a gentle smile as he walked with her to the bathroom. He tapped at the door, resting his head against the wood. “Hey dude, are you on the crapper?”

“Fuck off,” came Sam’s muffled reply.

“Answers my question. If he’s still cussing, he’s still kicking. It’s when he gets quiet, you have to worry,” Howler said, his assurances somewhat comforting.

Ivy exhaled the breath she wasn’t aware she held until that second and loosened her tense arms. Boy, she really sucked at this. She’d always prided herself on keeping a cool head. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

Chapter Eighteen

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