Page 47 of Quarterback Sneak

“You’re awake?”

“Yes.” Sam patted the side of the bed, exhausted despite sleeping most of the day. He’d been hooked up to an intravenous drip of saline and anti-nausea medication most of the previous night. Both proved a blessed relief. The doctor had removed the IV earlier in the morning.

Ivy leaned over him, her brow furrowed. She rested a cool hand against his cheek. Sam turned his head and kissed her palm. She sat on the edge of the bed, caressing his jaw with her thumb. Gazing into her concerned eyes, his body vibrated with renewed energy.

“How do you feel?” she asked, gentle and tentative in the same instance.

Like death warmed over. Was she still fighting her unnecessary guilt over his injury? He had to convince her that this wasn’t her fault. Fate had played a nasty trick on him and he had to have faith that everything would work out.

“Better, much better,” he said. At least he was no longer nauseated.

“Good, I’m glad.” Ivy leaned close, the scent of vanilla beckoning. Her typical white tank top was stretched tight against her firm breasts, tempting him despite his weakened state. The simple attire was sexier than the skimpiest dress. “Are you hungry? I made some homemade broth.”

“Broth? How about a steak?” he asked, rubbing his fingertip along her lower lip.

His teasing earned a reluctant grin from her. “Why don’t you start with the broth and work your way up?”

Truth to be told, with the jacked-up state of his stomach, even the thought of drinking broth didn’t set well. Except he needed to eat and gain his strength. The sooner he climbed out of this bed, the better off he’d be. “Okay, you win. Would you hand me the crutch so I can get up?”

“You don’t need to get up. I can bring it in here.” Ivy got to her feet, smiling slightly.

“No, I’m about sick of being an invalid.” Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. A wave of dizziness hit him and he averted his gaze lest she see his grimace. Inhaling through his nose, he waited a second until his equilibrium returned. Between the fall and the food poisoning, he’d been spending all of his time in a state of dizziness.

The nausea would eventually fade, but the knee still held the most real estate in his head. He accepted the crutch she handed him and stood. Clad only in his favorite board shorts, he looped his arm over the padded armrest of the metal crutch and followed her into the living room. With each step, his knee screamed in agony and by the time he made the ten steps into the living room, sweat had formed on his forehead.

“Douche. What are you doing out of bed?” Howler muted the T.V. The fact that his usually impeccably dressed friend wore a wrinkled shirt and sported dark circles under his eyes, spoke of how worried he‘d been. Yet another thing for Sam to feel uncomfortable about.

“I am fine. The nausea happens in waves, but I’ll survive.” Pushing through the ache, Sam moved over to the couch, angled his hips and half-fell onto the cushion since he could no longer bend his knee. The ungraceful action jarred the injury and a burning sensation radiated from deep inside his leg. Don’t react and don’t look at Ivy who was hovering close by. Never let them see your weakness. “I could use an ice pack,” he said, forcing his voice to be casual, although inside his head he wanted to scream for blessed relief.

“I’ll get it,” Ivy said, biting her lip before striding to the kitchen.

Had she noticed his pain?

She snatched up a brown bottle from the countertop. “And some more pain meds.”

Of course she would notice. She was watching him like a hawk. At bit exasperating, but she meant well.

“I have a meeting in about an hour. I’ll cancel if you need me to stay.” Howler stood and scratched at the scruff on his chin, eyes narrowed as he inspected Sam’s injury. Great, Howler wasn’t fooled by his lame performance anymore than Ivy. He really needed to work on his acting skills. Or he could just admit the truth: it hurt like hell and it was freaking him out.

“I’m sure Ivy can handle me,” he said, flashing her a comforting smile.

“Only if you promise not to bite,” she grinned, handing the icepack to Sam, along with the pill bottle and a glass of water. “But seriously Howler, you’ve been up all night. You should take the day off.”

Sam settled the ice pack on his throbbing knee, ignoring the pills for now. He wasn’t keen on taking them any more than he had to and the throb was lessening by the minute. “Howler doesn’t take time off. And if he says San Diego, he’s lying. He was blowing up my phone the whole time.”

“Unlike you, I work for a living,” Howler shot back, a wry grin creasing his cheeks, lessening the lines of worry that had played about his mouth. His friend was a pain in the ass, but Sam couldn’t imagine how his life would have turned out without Howler in it.

“Ivy, take care of my boy and make sure he stays out of trouble.” Howler grabbed his jacket and slipped his arms into it.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue once again. I promise, I’m not always such a spaz when it comes to life or death situations. You’re a godsend.” Ivy crossed her arms and glanced down, rubbing her toe against the area rug. She cleared her throat, her voice low and slightly husky with gratitude.

Howler snatched up his briefcase and squared his shoulders. “Not a problem. Just protecting my investment. See you later.”

The door shut as Ivy skirted the coffee table and sat next to Sam on the couch. Grasping his thigh, he maneuvered his leg until his calf was propped it on the armrest. Closing his eyes, he settled his head on her jean-clad lap. She placed her bared arm on his chest.

He played his finger over the giving flesh of her forearm. Every second he could touch her, taste her, and lose himself in her heat, was heaven. “Your skin is so soft, and every time I touch you, I don’t want to stop. You’re addicting, Ivy.”

She tilted her chin, shaking her head at his broad hint. The corners of her mouth quirked, her fuller lower lip bowing. “Do you really think you’re in any shape to be doing that right now?”

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