On the Shore (Cottonwood Cove, #3)(36)

I’d held my own, telling them about his training, and they razzed him about me racing him on our runs most days. I’d only had a few bites to eat because my stomach had felt a little off since I’d had lunch at the café near the offices while Lincoln was at his meeting.

I hoped I wasn’t coming down with anything, but I was doing everything in my power to push it away.

“You didn’t eat much. Are you okay?” Lincoln leaned close to my ear and whispered. His lips grazed my skin, and chills ran down my back.

I glanced around to see everyone deep in conversation.

“Yeah. Just feeling a little off.” I shrugged like it was no big deal. His gaze was laced with concern as he studied me.

“You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing myself to look back at the guys who had just finished another round of cocktails.

I’d passed on the alcoholic beverages, and I was grateful because I was feeling queasy, and any amount of booze would probably have me hurling right now.

The bill came, and Lincoln quickly signed it, letting the guys know he was calling it a night. Everyone got to their feet, and each one of these large men took turns picking me up off the floor and hugging me goodbye.

Brett spun me around, and I thought I was going to vomit, but I did my best to hide it and chuckled.

We waved our goodbyes and headed toward the elevator.

I was sweating profusely now, and I tucked my lips between my teeth and breathed in slowly through my nose.

Lincoln closed the space between us. “You’re definitely sick, sweetheart.”

“I think I might have food poisoning. I haven’t felt right since I ate that sandwich at the café.” I bent over my knees and groaned. My stomach was cramping, and I couldn’t stand up straight any longer.

He bent down in front of me. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His hand moved to my back, making little circles and soothing me in a way I didn’t even know would be comforting.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall.

This was so embarrassing.

“If you need to be sick, just let it out.”

“I can’t puke in the elevator or the hallway,” I said, feeling panicked.

“I’ll get it professionally cleaned. Don’t worry about it.”

The elevator was taking forever. Of course, we had to be on the top floor. I crouched down when the cramp hit me so severely that I couldn’t stand up.

When the doors opened, I looked up, unsure how I was going to move. Lincoln’s hands moved beneath my thighs and around my neck, and he scooped me up effortlessly. I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. Turns out, pine and sandalwood were my favorite anti-nausea medicine. At least for the brief few seconds, until the next bout hit me like a tidal wave.

“Oh, God,” I groaned, covering my mouth with my hand. “You need to put me down.”

Of course, the stubborn ass didn’t listen. He just walked briskly toward the door. I found my key in my purse and handed it to him, and he pushed the door open and carried me to the bathroom.

I pointed at the door. “Thanks for everything. You can go. I’m okay.”

I dropped to my knees and unleashed the tsunami from my stomach.

I heaved over and over just as the faucet turned on, and I glanced up to see Lincoln wetting a washcloth.

“I told you to leave!” I shrieked as the tears fell down my face.

I didn’t think there was anything left in my body at the moment, so I flushed the toilet and leaned against the wall, burying my face in my hands.

Could there be anything more horrifying than vomiting exorcist-style in front of the hottest guy on the planet?

He bent down, his hand finding my chin and forcing me to look up. He used the warm compress to clean up my face and then moved to sit beside me on the floor as he wrapped an arm around me.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Why can’t you let me be miserable by myself?” I sniffed.

“Because I want to have something to tease you about when we get home.” His tone was dry, but I felt his body quake beside me.

I chuckled and groaned at the same time. “I hate you.”

“Hate you, too, sweetheart.” He pulled me against his chest, and his fingers stroked the side of my face, moving down to my jaw.

It felt so good. I couldn’t push him away if I wanted to.

Well, until round two hit.

And it did.

I spent the next several hours violently heaving into the toilet.

I dozed off somewhere along the way, after nothing but bile was left in my body.

I didn’t remember how many times I’d gotten sick. I only remembered the beautiful man who’d stayed in the bathroom with me until late into the night.

He’d ordered ginger ale up to the room and forced me to take a few sips.

I didn’t know when it had all stopped or how I’d gotten into this bed.

But when I opened my eyes, there was a tiny glimpse of sunlight coming through the crack of the blackout curtains.

I looked down to see I was wearing the hotel robe, with my bra and panties on underneath. My hair was pulled into some sort of messy bun on my head, and I didn’t remember doing that.

I sat forward and glanced around. My stomach felt so much better, and the nausea was gone. My stomach grumbled with hunger pains. My gaze caught on the large shape beside my bed, and I blinked a few times to make out what it was. Lincoln was lying on the floor with a pillow and a very small bath towel draped over his shoulders.