Serious Ink (17 page)

“Right.” He felt suitably stupid as he stood there clutching his phone, unable to offer any helpful suggestions. “Sorry about what happened to your dad. I don’t expect you to come in today, of course. Take all the time you need. If you can’t be here Wednesday either, it’s fine.”

“Right,” she echoed back. “I’ve been babbling. I’m tired – it’s hard for me to shut up when I’m tired. I’d better go.”

He sensed her walls going back up, even over the phone connection. “Look, is there anything I can do to help? I could bring lunch by the hospital for you if you need something to eat. Which one are you at?”

“Actually, Mina already volunteered to do that.”

Great. Thanks to her co-worker’s generosity, he couldn’t even bring her takeout.

“Just let me know if you need anything,” he said, feeling a million miles away from her even though they were in the same city.

She said she would, but he knew she wouldn’t call him if she needed anything. He knew it, and it renewed his desire to put his fist through the nearest wall.

Zoe collapsed in a heap on the air mattress she’d set up in one corner of her new bedroom. As she lay on the cheap thing, she didn’t care, for once, how uncomfortable it was. She’d worry about moving her bed from Noah’s place later – for now, all she wanted to do was lie there, unmoving. Maybe get some real sleep for the first time since she’d received the emergency call from Azalea.

The noise of reality TV blared down the hall and into her room, courtesy of her roommates. Too tired to be seriously annoyed, she rolled over and stared at the bare wall, knowing she should be grateful for the college-aged girls she’d moved in with.

The day she’d come home to discover Noah arguing on the phone with Jay, Tyler had informed her that one of his little sister’s roommates had moved out and that they were looking for someone to take her place. At the time, Zoe had thanked him, but hadn’t taken the suggestion seriously. She’d been happy living with Noah – deliriously happy.

Hours later, that happiness had been shattered by a serious dose of reality and she’d called Tyler, asking if she could meet with his sister and the other girl.

She’d moved in that night and had been camping out on her air mattress since, trying and failing not to miss Noah and the bed they’d shared. It had been a queen sized one – big enough for two people, but small enough that they touched during the night, their bodies molding together so that when they woke each morning, they were inevitably tangled together.

Now, those memories were bittersweet. Sweet because they’d been the best nights – and mornings – of her life. Bitter because they’d jeopardized her new job and – worse – Noah’s dream. She didn’t know if he and Jay fought regularly, but she’d bet the answer was a big fat no. How would they have built a company together if they couldn’t get along?

Whatever bad blood there might be between them now was her fault. She should never have accepted Noah’s offer to live with him – or at least, she should’ve kept looking after she’d moved in, not settled down and let herself be content. She couldn’t blame him for being kind enough to offer to let her stay; he was just that kind of guy, as Schubert evidenced.

Even now, acknowledging the charity he’d treated her with grated. It grated a hell of a lot, actually. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about those nights spent in his bed – about waking up in his arms. The conflicting emotions whirled inside her, combined with worry for her father, plus Paul and Britney, who were currently settling in at the hospital, prepared to spend a sleepless night with him. Even though she was fatigued down to her bones, she tossed and turned, and her sleep was restless.

* * * * *

Noah was on his way back from the brand new mini-fridge that stood in one corner of the office when a sound drew him up short.

Holy hell, what was
happening
to Zoe in there? As he passed by the restrooms, it was obvious, even through the thick wooden door that sealed off the ladies’ room, that she was throwing up. He had no doubt that she’d be furious if she knew he’d heard, but he had, and he couldn’t help but worry.

Was she sick? It was April. The cold temperatures they’d been having meant it was still flu season, right?

Obviously, she was way under the weather for one reason or another, and that presented a moral dilemma: should he send her home, or pretend he hadn’t heard? Sending her home would mean admitting that he’d accidentally eavesdropped on her being sick, which wasn’t exactly an appealing option.

On the other hand, he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t ask to go home on her own. Hell, she’d probably rather drop dead on the office floor than clock out early.

Before he could come to a firm decision, the bathroom door swung open, and Zoe stepped directly into his path.

He gripped the sports drink he’d just retrieved from the fridge, fingers slipping against the condensation on the outside of the bottle. How was it that her narrowed gaze felt like a laser beam cutting straight through him when she looked so weak, otherwise?

Her normally porcelain skin was downright pale, and her mouth looked more sad than luscious. Not that she wasn’t still beautiful, but she looked miserable – miserable and suspicious.

“Were you listening to me throw up?” She cut right to the chase.

“Not on purpose.” Well, at least he hadn’t had to work up the will to confess. “But now that you mention it, I did hear. And I think you should go home.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, unwittingly emphasizing breasts that made his cock stiffen. Standing there with a burgeoning hard-on, he tried hard to shame his dick back into softness. She was sick and angry; no way should he be thinking about grabbing her by her hips, thrusting her thighs apart and burying himself deep inside her.

And yet, it had been weeks… Weeks, and he wanted her. Bad. He couldn’t help it – the semi was there to stay.

“I don’t need to go home,” she said. “Don’t worry – I don’t have anything contagious.”

She sounded sure, and he knew she wasn’t a liar. What was wrong with her, then?

A thought hit him like a bolt of lightning – jolting, paralyzing. Damn, she wasn’t pregnant, was she? It was only ten in the morning, and she was puking her guts out. There was a reason they called morning sickness morning sickness, wasn’t there? But they’d been careful every time...

“How can you be sure?” he asked, trying to play things cool as his head spun. Maybe it was a dumb conclusion to jump to, but… Fuck, if he’d gotten her pregnant…

He didn’t know what to think, what to feel. But he certainly didn’t want her any less, and his dick was still partially stiff – the possibility was less terrifying than he would’ve imagined.

“I’ve been glutened,” she said, crossing her arms a little more tightly.

“What?” The. Hell. Glutened?

“I accidentally ate some gluten. One of my new roommates got into some rice I’d made – scooped it out of the container with a contaminated spoon she’d stuck in some gravy. I didn’t realize, and I ate some…”

“Damn. You’re this sick from eating rice that touched a dirty spoon?”

“Yes.” She gave him an icy look, as if daring him to refute the legitimacy of her claim.

As if he could do that after what he’d just overheard.

“That sucks. How long are you going to be sick for?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been sick to my stomach since last night. Hopefully that’ll pass by the end of the day. There might be other problems, though…” A little dent appeared in her lower lip, alerting him to the fact that she was biting it from the inside.

She was worried. The realization increased his own anxiety. What kind of “problems”, exactly, might she be in for? “You definitely need to go home.”

She glared at him. “Look, you know I need the money.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but not quite soft. “So stop trying to send me home. If my performance today is sub-standard, fine – say the word and I’ll leave. But unless you think I’m slacking, don’t.”

He tried hard not to look sympathetic. “Fine. But if you change your mind—”

“I’ll be fine. I’m only here a few hours, anyway.”

Like he needed her to remind him of that. Twenty hours a week was all he got with her now – a fact he was perpetually aware of, and frankly, fucking tired of. “Come home with me when your shift ends,” he said.

“What?” Her eyes widened, and for a moment, all the anger and embarrassment was smoothed from her face, replaced by a look of surprise.

“Don’t go home – or wherever you’re staying. Come to my place. You can relax there. Get some rest, eat something – whatever. I have rice, and I promise not to stick a dirty spoon in it.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that her new roommates – whoever they were – were dumbasses who were endangering her with their carelessness.

“I’m not moving back in. I can’t!” she whisper-yelled, eyes wide, almost pleading.

For a split second, he wondered whether she missed the time they’d spent living under the same roof as badly as he did.

“I’m not asking you to move back in. I’m asking you to stop by and get some rest, that’s all. I hate seeing you so sick. You’re not living in a closet, are you?”

The tiniest of smiles flashed across her face. “You asked me that the other day, and I told you, no. I have an actual bedroom.”

“Well… Schubert misses you.” Fuck,
he
missed her. Never mind the damn cat, who seemed like a shittier roommate than ever, now that he was the only one Noah had. “Will you stop by?”

“I have to work at Hot Ink tonight.”

“Given the fact that you’re puking your guts out, I’m sure they have someone who’ll be willing to cover for you. You said yourself that Mina would do it if you ever needed her to. Why don’t I mention it to Jed over lunch?”

Her brow wrinkled. “You’re having lunch with Jed?”

“He’s decided to sponsor the championship. Or Hot Ink has, officially. Thanks for that, by the way – we have no one to thank but you.”

“I didn’t know. That’s pretty cool.”

He sensed her good mood and pounced on it, just like Schubert might pounce on a hapless dog. “So you’re gonna stop by my place after work?”

For a moment, she simply stood there, gaze locked with his. A lot of things passed through her eyes, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what they all were. “Okay.”

* * * * *

By the time Noah got home from work, Zoe’s car was already in his parking lot. She’d worked her five hour shift and left, whereas he’d stayed for eight. Climbing the stairs toward his unit, he couldn’t help but picture her in his bed.

That wasn’t where he found her, of course. When he walked in, she was on the futon, asleep with Schubert.

Damn the cat. Noah had never been so jealous of an animal. The scruffy creature was curled up with Zoe, his body pressed snugly against her breasts. As Noah entered, the cat surveyed him from where he lounged, shooting what could only be described as a smug look in his direction.

He remembered that Zoe was a light sleeper a moment too late. As he kicked off his shoes, she stirred, sending Schubert leaping for the carpet and slinking beneath the futon.

“Why aren’t you in your bed?” Noah asked. It was still there, in her old room. He’d offered several times to deliver it in Jay’s truck to her new place, but she’d put it off every time he’d asked.

She shrugged, pushing herself into an upright position, tucking her legs beneath herself. “I didn’t want to make myself too … at home.”

He barely suppressed a sigh. “So if you refused to sleep in your own bed, you probably haven’t eaten anything either, right?”

“I wasn’t hungry. Anyway … why is there cat hair all over my shirt?” Frowning, she began dusting bright orange strands from her dark purple blouse.

Apparently Schubert only cuddled in stealth mode. “Told you Schubert missed you.”

He threw his coat up on a hook by the door and crossed the space between them, sinking down onto the futon. He still hadn’t bought the new furniture he’d been planning to get for weeks now. Well, there was a coffee table he’d glimpsed in a second-hand shop window and had picked up on an impulse, but little else. He’d figured he and Zoe would choose a few things together at some point.

Now, that seemed as far away as she did, even though there was hardly a foot between them. Watching her brush cat hair off the front of her shirt, his palms itched with the urge to reach reflexively for the same area on his body, just below his collarbones.