Page 11 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

Easing up, Macy held out her hand. He dropped the pill onto her palm and then held a glass to her lips. If she didn’t feel so bad, she would be embarrassed at how she was acting like an invalid, but there was no other option.

Once she swallowed the pill, she eased back down. The bed dipped beside her as Liam sat next to her hip.

“Does this take long to kick in?”

“Long enough,” she murmured.

How humbling was it to be infatuated with a man only to have him witness you at your absolute worst possible time? She only prayed the nausea didn’t become worse.

Macy started to sit back up, risking opening one eye and grateful to find the room was dark. “I’ll just wait out in my truck for this to pass.”

Instantly, hands covered her shoulders and settled her back against

the pillows. “You’ll sleep here. I’ll go to the couch. What else can I get you?”

No way was she staying the night. As soon as she felt like moving without throwing up, she was out of here. Despite the dark room, Macy kept her eyes closed and sank further into the soft sheets. Why did this have to feel so good? Why was letting him take care of her so annoyingly wonderful? The only person she’d ever let help her was her father. This went against everything in her “I am woman, hear me roar” attitude.

“You’re not arguing, so I know you feel awful.” He brushed the hair away from her face and she wanted him to keep touching her in that soft manner. Had anyone ever done that?

“I’ll leave the door open in case you need something,” he went on, pulling away and easing off the bed. “Don’t worry about waking me. If you get worse, I want to know.”

“I’ll be fine. As soon as it eases, I’m leaving.”

Liam grunted and his heavy footsteps carried him from the room. Macy didn’t want to think about lying here in his bed, didn’t want to think about how one minute he was infuriating and the next he was nurturing. Why did he have to be so . . . ? She couldn’t even pinpoint one word to describe him. When she was better, she vowed, she’d think of a whole host of adjectives to describe her tenant.

Macy shifted to her side and brought her hand up over her eyes. She prayed the prescription would kick in soon. It was already around midnight and she really didn’t want to have to call her dad in to open the store in the morning. Two days in a row wouldn’t look too good. Even though he completely understood her condition, she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle the responsibility of taking over. She hadn’t been able to finish her degree, had let fear grip her and take over momentarily, and she refused to fail at this, too.

All she needed was to wait, let the meds kick in, and she’d be good to go. She’d just lie here, inhaling the woodsy scent on Liam’s sheets, and try to recall a time when any man treated her with such care.

Chapter Three

“Do you think I should ask her or not?”

Liam rolled out the dough that would become a cherry cheese Danish. Brock sat across the center island, ready for some advice. He’d come straight to the resort after school and apparently Liam was the chosen one to spill those teenage insecurities to.

“I’m the last person you should seek relationship advice from.” Liam tried not to take his frustrations and anger out on the dough, but past memories threatened to destroy the pastry he was forming. “You’re better off asking Zach or Braxton.”

Brock shook his head. “Nah. They’re getting married. I don’t want to get married. I just want to know whether or not I should ask Alli on a date.”

Liam glanced across the counter to the teen. That look in his eye seemed so familiar. The confusion, the sliver of hope in what could happen if he pushed the panic aside and went after what he wanted. Liam had been so much like Brock at that age. Brock was a mix of all the Monroe brothers and the boy wasn’t even remotely related to any of them. Yet fate had brought them all together, sending them each on a path that led to this moment.

Last year when Brock was discovered homeless and living in the resort, which was in the midst of renovations, Zach had instantly taken him in. Through the proper legal means, Brock was no longer a runaway from an abusive father and was now surrounded by a family who loved him as their own. They’d all come from various places, so they understood the need for security, for some sense of stability.

And though Liam was honestly the dead last person to offer his opinion in regard to women, he couldn’t ignore Brock’s questioning gaze.

“If you want to go on a date, ask her.” Liam resumed rolling out the dough, making sure to get the edges nice and even with the middle.

“It’s more than a date,” Brock muttered. “It’s the prom.”

Hell. Prom. Liam recalled his prom night. He’d only been worried about how to maneuver his date out of her dress. Damn it. Teenage hormones were definitely not an area he wanted to venture into. That would be a hell of a lot worse than relationships.

“Then ask her to the prom. It’s just a dance.”

“To chicks, the prom is everything. I don’t care about a dance—I just want a date and I heard she and her boyfriend broke up, so she doesn’t have a date.”

High school days. Liam wouldn’t go back if someone paid him. Between still trying to cope with the loss of his mother, living with the Monroes, and just being a teenage boy with all the pressures of that age, Liam had absolutely hated that time in his life.

“Then if she’s free, sounds like the perfect time to ask.”

---