And he kind of thought that Lucie was the same.
She never brought him the muffins.
Because she’s flaky.
Except she wasn’t. Not really. When he’d been in town the other day, everyone he’d met had something nice to say about her. It seemed she spent most of her time helping people. But he’d rarely seen anyone over at her house. Why couldn’t she call on someone to clean her gutters for her?
It didn’t sit right with him that she helped everyone, but took nothing back for herself.
You don’t know her. You’ve lived next to her for less than two months.
But his gut was telling him that something was wrong.
Thunder sounded in the distance. The storm they’d been warning about all day was coming. He’d finish prepping for the storm, then he’d decide what the hell to do because he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to rest easy until he made certain that Lucie was all right.
It was the neighborly thing to do, right?
Sick. She was so sick.
Lucie hated being ill. Sure, most people didn’t like it. But Lucie was certain she hated it more than anyone else. She lay on the sofa, staring at the fire and knowing she needed to put another log on. But that meant going outside since she’d burned all the wood in the house.
“Come on, Luce,” she muttered to herself. “You can do it.”
Her eyeballs felt like they were two burning orbs. Her head was thumping. Her nose was all clogged up. And her throat burned.
Miserable. So miserable.
She managed to get herself to her feet. The room spun, and she held onto the arm of the couch until she was steady. Shuffling to the back door in her pajamas, she managed to get her feet into some rain boots and pulled on a jacket. A loud clap of thunder made her jump.
Stupid storm. Opening the back door, a blast of wind nearly knocked her over. But it felt kind of nice against her heated skin.
Shoot.
Come on, Lucie. You have this.
Holding on to the railing, she made her way carefully down the steps. A coughing fit made her pause at the bottom. She coughed so hard she nearly vomited. Then she groaned.
Life sucked.
Moving towards the woodshed, it wasn’t until she got there that she realized the wheelbarrow was by the house. Tears welled in her eyes. A sob broke free as she went back and grabbed the wheelbarrow, then headed towards the woodshed.
She managed to pile the wood up, and then she pushed it towards her cabin. Why did it feel so much heavier than normal? Her breath came in sharp gasps and she had to pause to cough. A groan of misery escaped her as she continued to push. Then the front wheel hit a rock, and it toppled over onto its side, spilling all of her precious cargo.
Under normal circumstances, this wasn’t something to be completely devastated about. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
Lucie dropped to her knees in defeat and cried. The skies decided that this was the perfect moment to open up and dump on her.
Soon she was soaked through, despite her rain jacket, which she hadn’t bothered to do up.
“Lucie? Lucie!”
The sound of her name being called in that demanding, bossy tone barely even penetrated her misery. She wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering.
“What is it? What happened? Are you hurt?”
He appeared out of the rain, dressed in a large rain jacket that nearly reached his feet. She stared up at him, not even able to speak. She was that upset and defeated.
“Oh, baby. What happened?” She must have imagined the endearment; the soft crooning note in his voice. Because her gruff neighbor would never talk to her like that. He’d never kneel down in front of her and run his hands over her, looking for injury.
And he definitely wouldn’t pull her close, cradling her against his broad chest.
Yep, turns out she was having delusions. Or perhaps this was a dream. Maybe she was inside, on the couch, dreaming about all of this.
“What happened? Did you fall, baby?”
“I n-needed wood. B-but the w-wheelbarrow t-toppled.” Her teeth started chattering.
“What were you thinking? Leaving it so late to get more wood in?” he demanded.
Oh, there he was.
But today she couldn’t shake off that tone. Couldn’t tell herself to kill him with kindness.
She burst into tears.
He froze. She knew he was staring at her. Probably in horror. Probably wishing he’d never come over here. That he’d never moved here. That he’d never met her.
“Hush. Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He stood and held out his hand. She stared at it in exhaustion. “Lucie, I’m not staring at you in horror or wishing I’d never moved here or met you. Now, come on, you’re soaked and cold. Let’s get you inside and dry.”
Oh crap. She’d said that all out loud?
“Lucie,” he said in a warning voice.
“T-the w-wood.”
“I’ll get it for you. Now, come on before I throw you over my shoulder and haul you inside.”
She reached up and put her tiny hand in his.
“Fuck, you’re freezing. Where are your gloves, little girl?” he grumbled.
She ignored him calling her little girl, same as she was ignoring when he called her baby. Because she had to be dreaming.
When he helped her up, she stumbled forward, falling against him. He put his arm around her to steady her. Then they started moving towards her cabin. But her legs failed her, and she began to slip.
Suddenly, she found herself cradled in his arms and held against his chest. He swiftly carried her up onto the back porch and into her cabin. There, he set her down on the wooden bench next to the door. He crouched in front of her, tilting up her face.
“What’s wrong? Did you hurt your legs?” He ran his big hands over her legs.
Her teeth chattered as she shook her head. “I-I’m fine.” Then she had to turn her face away as she hacked up half a lung.
“Fuck. You’re sick?” His hand rested on her forehead. “You’re burning up, little girl. What were you doing out in the storm when you’re sick?”
He drew off his jacket as he scolded her, then bent to take off his boots before pulling hers off.
“You don’t even have any socks on.”
She stared down at her toes. Huh. He grasped hold of her feet and she hissed. Shoot. He was so warm.
“Your feet are freezing. You’ll be lucky if you don’t catch pneumonia. You need a keeper.”
Was he offering?
Darn. She didn’t say that out loud, did she? Leaning back against the wall, she stared up at him tiredly. Everything felt hazy, and it was an effort to stay upright.
“Told you. N-needed wood.”
He shook his head.
“We need to get you warmed up. I’ll run you a bath.” He took off her jacket. Then he stared down at her soaked flannel pajamas.
“Is that the Cookie Monster on your pajamas?” he asked.
“Love the Cookie Monster. Cookies. Yum-yum.”
“That’s a terrible fucking impression.”
“I know.”
She started coughing again. He quickly picked her up and carried her into the living room, where he started swearing. “Your fire is nearly dead. Have you been sleeping out here? Why? To keep warm while you were ill?”