A tear leaked from Carlise’s eye. This man, who didn’t know her, was vowing to do whatever it took to protect her from his nightmare enemies. “Okay,” she whispered, not sure what else she should do or say right now.
He stared at her, meeting her gaze directly and with what looked like complete clarity, but she knew he was still lost in his fever-induced hallucination.
Then, without warning, Riggs’s arms collapsed.
He shifted enough at the last minute that he didn’t land directly on top of her. The bulk of his weight was resting on the mattress, but she was still trapped beneath him, his arm across her body and his legs tangled with hers. The heat coming off him was almost scalding. She needed to get up, get more cool water from the bathroom, and use the washcloth to try to bring his temperature down.
But surprisingly . . . Carlise didn’t want to move. The bed was much more comfortable than the couch she’d been napping on between taking care of Riggs. And the last few days were finally catching up with her.
The fear when she’d made the decision to leave Cleveland, the aimless driving, getting lost, walking through the snow. The terror, then relief, when Riggs appeared out of nowhere. Feeding the dog on the porch and trying, without luck, to coax him inside, and then the stress of trying to get Riggs to eat and drink while figuring out what to make without electricity so she could also feed herself.
Carlise sighed. Maybe she’d just lie here for a minute or two. It wasn’t as if either of them had anywhere they needed to be or anything that needed doing at the moment. In fact, it almost felt as if they were the only two people on the planet.
All her worries seemed to fade away as she lay under Riggs. She counted his breaths, and when he violently twitched next to her, she whispered, “Shhhhh.”
Amazingly, he quieted at the sound of her voice.
She felt completely safe at the moment. Susie would probably tell her she was crazy, that she was trapped in a cabin with a stranger who outweighed her and could hurt her without even trying. But even though Carlise hadn’t spoken more than two dozen words to this man, she wasn’t scared of him. He’d done everything he could to protect her. From the storm, the cold, and from the memories of bad men in his past.
If this was Tommy, she’d be on edge at all times, worried about doing or saying the wrong thing—and having him punish her for it.
Riggs wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that instinctively. As well as she knew her own name.
The fire crackled in the small room and the wind howled outside. She was more than warm enough lying half under Riggs, and she couldn’t deny she was exhausted.
Carlise’s eyes closed as she relaxed, and before she knew it, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.
When she woke, it took her a moment to remember where she was. It was still dark, indicating the sun had yet to rise, so she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. But she and Riggs had clearly been restless. They’d both moved in their sleep, and he was now behind her. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, her head resting on his bicep.
He was basically curled around her. She could feel every inch of his body against hers, and instead of feeling threatened or nervous that they were so close, she felt . . . good.
Maybe it was because she’d been taking care of him while he was vulnerable. Maybe because he’d saved her life. Maybe it was simply because she was so tired. Whatever the reason, Carlise had never felt as content as she did right at that moment, in this stranger’s arms.
It was that thought that got her moving. Riggs was a stranger. He probably wouldn’t be happy to know he was spooning an equally strange woman who was living in his cabin, eating his food. Nor would he like being completely vulnerable to whatever she might do to him.
Riggs grunted as she slid out from under his arm. She stood next to his bed for a moment, watching him frown and fidget restlessly, as if looking for her now that she wasn’t in his arms.
“Fire,” she muttered to herself, realizing the room was chilly because the fire had died down while they were sleeping. Forcing herself to turn away from Riggs, she wandered over to the fireplace and added three more logs to the burning coals. Within seconds, they caught and the flames once more danced and crackled.
Carlise turned and walked back to the bed to check on Riggs. She hoped his fever had finally broken . . . but when she put a hand on his forehead, she realized he was just as hot as he’d been for the last two days.
“Damn,” she whispered. For the first time, she started to get truly worried. She’d assumed he had a twenty-four-hour bug or something. That the fever would break, and he’d be up and around in no time. But the longer this fever lasted, the more concerned Carlise got. It wasn’t as if she could call for an ambulance. Or even drive him to a hospital or clinic. She was on her own here, and it was a scary feeling.