Page 30 of Life To My Flight

I wasn’t surprised when a deep rumble came up on my bumper and stayed there.

However, I couldn’t muster up the courage to care because my head was pounding.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was thanking sweet baby Jesus that I’d made it that far.

Probably shouldn’t have popped those Benadryl’s at the doctor’s office. What I should’ve done was waited until I was at home to do it.

I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel, barely able to keep my eyes open.

Maybe I could just sleep in my car all night.

It was blissfully warm.

Or maybe that was my fever.

If only that horrible pounding would stop.

***

I woke up in my bed, unaware of how I’d gotten there.

I was beyond cold, and looked down to find only a sheet wrapped around my body.

I moved experimentally, blindly searching for the blanket that was usually there, but unable to find it.

Rolling over, I came up to a barrier that was blissfully warm.

“Uh-uh, Rue. You’re running a high fever. You have to stay on your side and you can only use the sheet. You’re already at 103,” a deep voice rumbled.

I ignored Cleo and stayed where I was, shivering. “C-cold.”

“I know, baby,” Cleo said. “But if you get too hot, we’re going to have to take a cold shower, and you know how that’s going to go.”

Sighing, I rolled away from the beautiful warmth of Cleo’s body until I had a foot between us, and continued my shivering.

“You’re the devil,” I croaked.

“You may call me Diablo,” Cleo rasped.

“Oh, Mikhail. I do love you,” I whispered before falling back asleep.

I missed the, “I love you, too.”

***

Cleo was doing sit-ups in my living room.

Shirtless.

And pantless.

In the middle of the night.

“Where’re your pants?” I croaked.

Cleo stopped halfway into a sit up and twisted just his upper body to look at me.

My eyes roamed over the tanned expanse of his chest, cataloguing the multiple tattoos, ridges on top of ridges of hard, toned muscle, and finally the newest addition.

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