Page 29 of Hiding Rose
Chapter Eight
“Rosie,” sang a voice. “Rosie, you need to wake up right now.”
I opened one eye and Kate was in front of me, her face frantic even if her voice was calm. She had a cool towel pressed to my cheek and her eyes darted over me in the practiced precision of a mother.
“What happened?” I asked, realizing I was laying down in Gideon’s office.
“You passed out and Sawyer picked you up and ran down the hallway yelling for help. Gideon and I happened to be in his office.”
I rubbed my forehead in an attempt to remember why I passed out. Only then did it come back to me. “The poem.”
Kate nodded, her lips in a tight line. “The poem.”
I grasped her shoulder and sat up, shaking my head to clear it. “Where’s Gideon?”
Kate pressed the cold towel into my hand. “He went with Sawyer back to your office to get the flower. They called Niko and the cops. I didn’t think you wanted to be there, so I’m taking you upstairs to your apartment once you’re steady on your feet.”
“I’ll carry her,” Sawyer said as he strode in. He bent and scooped me up, my crutches nowhere in sight.
Kate hurried along ahead of us and helped with the elevator until we were safely tucked inside. She held the door with her hand. “I’ll talk to Gideon and Niko, and then bring your crutches up.” She stared straight at Sawyer. “Don’t let her out of your sight unless she needs the bathroom. If she needs a doctor, we’ll bring one in.”
I huffed. “I don’t need a doctor. I just got too hot in the little office.”
Kate let go of the door and it slid shut. I could feel Sawyer trying hard not to laugh. “Don’t even think about laughing at me or I’ll lock you out of my apartment for good.”
His eyes were focused on some spot on the elevator doors in front of us. “I wouldn’t think of it.”
It seemed like the ride took forever, but when the doors finally opened I was never more grateful. I didn’t want to make small talk, and being in his arms was making the ride even more awkward. We stood in front of my door. “Crap, I don’t have my key.”
“Reach around behind me, it’s in my left back pocket,” he said, waiting patiently.
My hand didn’t stray from around his neck. “I’m not sticking my hand in your pocket.”
“There’s no snakes, I promise,” he laughed, but my hand stayed glued to his shoulder.
“It’s not snakes I’m worried about,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Okay, then we’ll stand here until Kate arrives. I’m sure no one will find it odd to see me standing here holding you, if they happen by.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “You’re such a jerk,” I said, forcing my hand to move lower until it hovered by his butt. I closed my eyes, plunged my hand into the pocket, and ripped out the key. By the time I got the key in the door he was laughing aloud, and I worried he was going to drop me. Once in the door he lowered me to the bed and pulled my shoes off, the brace included.
“Hey, I can’t get around without my shoes,” I said, grabbing for them, but he set them against the other wall.
“Exactly. You heard Kate. If she comes up here and you’re not tucked up safely in bed, my head will be the daily special. I can’t risk it.”
A smile tickled my lips and when he saw it, he couldn’t keep from laughing either. Soon we were both laughing until our ribs hurt and I was lying on the bed in a ball. “All I can see is you walking out in your white coat carrying a platter with your head on it. Reminds me of Halloween,” I said, more laughter sneaking around the edges of my words. I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. “I could use a stiff drink.”
He didn’t answer, but turned and took a bottle of wine from the fridge. I had opened it a few nights ago, but after half a glass, I corked it and forgot about it. He poured me a generous serving and set it on the bedside table while I scooched up to the pillows. He handed me one to prop under my leg and then handed me the wine. I sucked it down in one gulp, handed it back to him, and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
“More,” I croaked.
He raised a brow, but refilled it for me and handed it back, but held onto the stem. “Slowly,” he instructed.
I stuck my tongue out at him, but sipped it to make him happy. I couldn’t get the horrible poem out of my mind and if it took a bottle of wine to make it happen, then so be it.
He took my free hand in his and waited until I lowered the glass again. “I think it’s time you tell me what’s going on here.”
“Nothing’s going on,” I said sarcastically, taking another drink. “At least nothing concerning you.”
