“Okay. I just . . . I spent three days trying to get you better, and it would suck if you had a relapse while I was sleeping,” she said with a small shrug.
Chappy couldn’t stop himself from going to the woman who’d appeared out of nowhere and was quickly becoming an obsession. He walked right into her personal space and wrapped her in his arms.
To his relief, she didn’t pull away in alarm. Instead, she snuggled into him as they stood next to his couch.
Chappy rested his cheek on her temple and sighed in contentment. “Thank you,” he said fervently. “I can’t remember the last time anyone did something as selfless as you did for me.”
He expected her reaction. She shook her head against him, then pulled back and looked up to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t going to just let you fend for yourself, Riggs. You were the one who went out into the storm, while you were sick, to find me. If you hadn’t followed Baxter . . .” Her voice trailed off and she shivered.
“But I did. And you’re fine. And I’m good,” he reassured her.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
The last thing Chappy wanted to do was let go, but he forced himself to drop his arms from around her and take a step back. “Three days ago, we were strangers, and now I feel as if I’ve known you forever.” He shrugged. “I don’t understand it, but I’ve learned over the years to not question things like this.”
“Same,” she said, making Chappy almost sag in relief. “But I know intense situations can sometimes make people feel closer than they might otherwise.”
Chappy shook his head. “I have a feeling no matter where or when I met you, I’d feel the same way I do right now.” He wanted to say more. Wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t force her into any kind of relationship if she didn’t want it. But it was way too soon for that kind of conversation . . . wasn’t it?
He cleared his throat and stepped backward toward the kitchen. “I’ll move the pot into the bathroom for you. The water isn’t boiling anymore, but the pot will still be hot to the touch. Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” she said with a small nod.
She stood next to the couch as he carried the large pot into the bathroom.
“Take your time. The meal’s not going anywhere.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Carlise said, giving him a small smile before walking over to her backpack, which was sitting against the wall. Chappy had seen it earlier but left it alone. She hadn’t gone through his drawers and personal items while he’d been unconscious—although, honestly, if he’d been in her situation, he totally would’ve. Still, he didn’t want to repay her thoughtfulness and unselfishness by pawing through her things.
She pulled out a change of clothes, then headed to the bathroom and closed the door.
Chappy let out a long breath. He was somewhat shocked to realize how empty the cabin felt without her in sight. Which was ridiculous, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling. She didn’t take long in the bathroom, and when she reemerged, the hair around her face was wet, letting him know she’d taken advantage of the warm water to wash her face.
Immediately, he wondered if she’d washed other parts of her body as well.
Feeling like a pervert, he did his best to shut down that line of thinking. If he thought about her standing naked in his bathroom, using one of his washcloths to caress her luscious curves . . .
No . . . he wasn’t going there.
Chappy cleared his throat. “All good?” he asked.
Carlise nodded. “The warm water felt great. Thank you.”
“Again, I’ll get the generator fired up tomorrow, and we can both take a shower. There won’t be a ton of hot water, but it’ll be enough for a quick wash. We can also run a load of laundry.”
“I’ll never take hot water or electricity for granted again,” she said with a small smile. She dropped a bundle of dirty clothes next to her backpack, then wandered over to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” Chappy told her. “It’s all done. Just have a seat. What can I get you to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” she said.
He felt her anxious gaze on him as he dished out two plates of the ooey-gooey pasta dish.
“What?” he asked, unable to not ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly, catching her gaze. “Don’t say nothing’s wrong when I can tell you’re worried about something. You can ask me anything. Say anything. I’m not going to get mad. I’m not going to punish you for thinking a certain way. Things between us have gone from zero to a hundred in lightning-fast speed, but I don’t want you to feel as if you can’t express a concern or tell me what’s on your mind.”