Page 43 of Second Draft

We’ve become…friends. And that’s something.

No, it’s not ideal, and yes it’s still complicated, but it’s nice to have someone other than Kira to talk to.

It’s nice to not be alone.

Carter is sitting on the couch, crouched over his laptop that sits on the coffee table, brows drawn down as he types furiously.

Every time I see him, I can’t help the butterflies that flutter in my chest. No amount of time will ever dull how freaking gorgeous the man is. His hair is long right now, needing a trim and hanging over his eyes. And the dark scruff has grown into a decent beard that he keeps neatly trimmed. I’ve never been a fan of beards, but on him it just looks sexy and rugged. That combined with the ink that covers his bulging biceps and forearms, he oozes primal sexiness.

Get a grip, Layla. I blink away the thought.

“I’ll stop by the grocery store after work. Do you need anything?”

“You’re working again?” Carter looks up from his computer and frowns at me. There it is. The dark, broody look he gets when he disproves of something I do.

“I’m taking an extra shift at the restaurant this week,” I say evenly, giving him my own look that says don’t argue with me.

“If you need money–”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know.” He shuts his laptop and stands.

Shit. Here we go. While I appreciate his concern, I can’t let him think that I need to be taken care of, especially not financially. Him letting me live here for practically nothing is already more than enough.

I search my purse for my keys, and a lip-gloss falls out of one pocket onto the floor. I lean over to pick it up, but when I straighten, my vision starts to darken to a single point of light in front of me.

Crap.

I drop my purse, reaching frantically for the wall, or anything to stop myself from passing out.

“Damnit, Layla.” Carter’s voice is too far away, and I know there’s no way he’ll get to me on time.

I’m falling fast.

My body hits something hard and warm, and it takes me a second to realize it’s Carter. Next thing I know, my feet are no longer on the floor and he has me cradled against his chest.

“Put me down.” I squirm in his arms as my vision returns.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“It was just a dizzy spell. It’s normal. I’ve already talked to my doctor about it.”

“That’s the second time you’ve passed out in my arms. There’s nothing normal about it.”

“I have to go to work.” I wriggle against him, but he’s too damn strong. “Put. Me. Down.”

“No,” he growls, blue eyes dark and possessive when he looks down at me. “Not until I know you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.” I go limp, knowing there’s no sense fighting. I’m pretty sure he’d toss me over his shoulder like a goddamn caveman and carry me to the hospital if he has to.

“I’d rather have a doctor’s opinion.”

“I’m not going to the damn doctor because I was a little dizzy.”

“Well, you’re not going to work, either.” He puts me on the couch, and when I start to move he points a finger, and snarls, “Stay.”

As sexy as the whole Neanderthal, possessive thing is, I really can’t deal with this today. Twice last week I was late because my stomach wouldn’t settle, and the week before that I missed an entire shift because I was so sick I couldn’t get out of bed.

---