Chapter Four

Hunter woke with a start. He hated the recurring dream where he was falling off the roof of the barn, only this time he was falling into the wide mouth of a giant spider with a Gene Simmons KISS tongue.

He was pretty sure spiders didn’t have tongues, but his head hurt too much to dwell on it.

Swallowing thickly, his eyes landed on someone sitting in the corner chair. He wasn’t too surprised to have company; his family worried about him. However, there was nothing familial about the beautiful redhead watching him. He’d dreamed about her last night, or rather pictured her here with him when he’d gotten up to use the bathroom.

Obviously, his mind was still playing tricks on him, a damn shame considering the best cure he could think of was Callie Carmichael in his bunkhouse.

“Are you okay?” Dream Callie asked. She had a soft voice that soothed all his aching muscles. “You squealed in your sleep.”

Definitely still dreaming, since he’d never squealed in his life. “I’d be better if you climbed in here with me,” he drawled lazily. He’d kicked off his pajama bottoms during the night so he had nothing on underneath the sheets, and a certain part of him loved the idea of her joining him. She, on the other hand, wore long-sleeve navy pajamas with white polka dots on them. Not what he would’ve picked, but he couldn’t control every dream.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and assume your fever is making you delirious.”

He put his palm on his forehead. Yep, a definite heat wave was happening.

Wait. He didn’t normally feel himself while dreaming. Was Callie actually sitting in his bedroom? Or had he died and gone to heaven?

“You’re not a figment of my imagination?”

Rather than answer him, she got to her feet, came closer, and put out her hand.

For him to touch.

Hot damn. He still wasn’t clear on why she was here, but he didn’t care. She’d never offered any part of herself to him before, so he’d take it. Her light green eyes were softer than he’d ever seen them and her curly hair wild, like she’d been here all night, sleeping on his couch.

As far as gifts went, this took the top spot. He could tell himself all day he’d moved on from his crush, but this close to her, he forgot about the promise he’d made to himself.

The bed covers slipped slightly as he lifted an arm free to touch the top of her delicate hand. Soft, warm skin met his, just like he’d imagined.

She pulled her arm back and returned to the chair, too far away for his liking. “Now that we’ve got that settled, how are you feeling this morning?”

He pushed himself all the way up to a sitting position, exposing his bare chest as the sheet slid to his waist. She maintained perfect eye contact like she couldn’t care less about checking him out. Holy cow, she was here. He knew this because she never gave him the once-over. Never paid him much attention beyond politeness.

Which meant…

Last night when he’d gotten up to relieve himself buck naked, she had been standing a mere five feet away. And a minute ago he’d asked her to join him in bed…

No wonder she was staring at him like she wished she were anywhere else.

“Umm…”

A little crease appeared between her pretty eyes. “You don’t know how you’re feeling this morning?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, feeling totally tongue-tied. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Africa?”

“I got back last night. No one told you I’d be here?”

He shook his head. Or if they did, he didn’t remember.

“You need someone to keep an eye on you for the next couple of weeks, and I coincidentally needed somewhere to stay.”

He gave himself a minute to let those words sink in. It was a lot to process given his weakened state. On the one hand, after years of pining away for Callie, she was here in his home—and apparently staying a while. On the other hand, though, she wasn’t here because she wanted to be.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he said kindly. He knew his body and what side effects to watch out for. Or at least they were written on the discharge instructions the ER nurse had printed out and given to him. He picked them up to show Callie. “I’ve got the instructions right here.”

Plus, even though he felt awful, he had an invincible image to uphold.

She studied him, seeming to weigh what to say next, and in those few seconds he wondered what the hell he was doing. She’d said she needed somewhere to stay, and it was a dick move to refuse her because of his pride.

“Actually,” he said, “forget I said that.”

“Maybe I should go. I’m sure someone else—”

“No. I want you stay. Let’s start over. Hi, Callie. Thanks for being here.”

She waited a beat, then said, “Hi, Hunter.”

He basked in those two little words. Hearing his name on her full lips made him warm for entirely different reasons than a fever.

“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked again.

His parents had always taught him that honesty is the best policy. “Like the spider won.”

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Maybe the first round, but I think you’ll win the battle.”

He wanted to say, “With you as my nurse, I’ve already won,” but instead he said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Kennedy was here earlier and gave me some instructions.”

“She instructed you to talk nice to me?” Damn. Most of the time when he talked to Callie, he screwed up somehow, but she always had nice things to say to people. He’d overheard her countless times with his sister and with people around town. His shoulders slumped and he slid back down into bed.

“No! I meant instructions on helping to take care of you.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.” He closed his eyes. “Should I be worried I don’t remember her being here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. You’re my first spider-bite patient.”

He slowly raised his eyelids. He liked being her first anything. “You’re my first, too.” Oh, jeez. Could he be any more moony? “My first, uh, caretaker.” That sounded more normal. “What’s on this list of instructions?”

“Oh, right.” She stood. “You need to take your antibiotic and Tylenol for your fever.” She walked to the other bedside table, poured some pills into her hand, and presented them to him with a glass of water. He sat taller and accepted the meds with his injured hand. Her breath caught and her eyes widened at the swelling and redness.

“I imagine this is how the Pillsbury Dough Boy feels.” He tossed back the meds and swallowed down some water.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when I breathe.”

“Your chest hurts?” Worry coated her words.

“No, my hand.” He chuckled. Could they be any more out of tune with each other? This was how it always was when he was around her, and he hated it.

Hated how for some reason, he never acted like himself in front of Callie. He’d always admired her strength. Her kindness. Felt his knees go weak when he caught her smiling uninhibited. And when she was with his family, her warmth filled the room. Yet, somehow, they’d never gotten beyond cursory greetings.

“Itches, too,” he added.

She gave a small shake of her head, as if she recognized their incompatibility, too. “It looks like it would hurt all the time. Here, take this, too.”

“What is it?” With his palm up, she dropped another small pill onto his hand.

“An antihistamine. It will help with the itching. We can also put some prescription cream on it.” She lifted a small tube off the nightstand.

He liked the sound of “we” so he gave her his hand to do the honors. He planned to take full advantage of her helpfulness, and if that made him slightly despicable, then so be it.

A smart man knew not to waste a golden opportunity when it presented itself.

“You can’t do it yourself?”

“Do you mind?” He gave her the best miserable look he could muster, hoping it was enough to get her agreement. His face didn’t naturally grimace, so it took some effort.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and unscrewed the cap on the cream. It should not have looked sexy, but somehow it did. “So, how long are we shacking up together?” he asked.

“Please don’t say it like that,” she informed him with a roll of her eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like there’s more going on than there is.” She took his hand gently in hers and applied the cream.

To say he liked that her mind went there would be an understatement, even if she did sound a little disgusted by the idea.

“You worried people will talk?” He was pretty sure word of his spider bite—and Bethany’s delivery—had made its way around town by now, so it would follow that Callie’s return from Africa and their…situation would reach people’s ears, too.

She delicately smoothed the cream on his hand, and her touch felt so nice that his eyes fell shut for a second.

“It’s not that. We both know they will. I, uh…”

“You…?”

“Don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”

He’d had his own ideas going around in his head for more than a dozen years now, and none of them felt wrong to him. But still, he understood her concern. He had a ridiculous reputation as Windsong’s most eligible bachelor now that Maverick was getting hitched, and he’d admit he did have an easy time with the ladies. Not to mention she’d caught him kissing more than one girl over the years, and her expressions always gave away her disapproval.

He took a silent, deep breath. Once again, he needed to move on from his crush and stick to it.

“So, you won’t be climbing into bed with me?” The words were out before he could think better of them. He should just stop talking.

“Hunter!” She released his hand with an irritated huff, capped the medicated cream, and stood. Even annoyed, she was beautiful. “We need to establish some rules if this is going to work.”

“Okay.” He probably shouldn’t tell her he’d never met a rule he couldn’t break. Not any that were legal, anyway.

“Rule number one. No flirting.”

In his defense, he genuinely didn’t try to flirt—it just sometimes came out that way. It was in his nature. “I’ll do my best.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. If the expression meant to scold him, it didn’t work. Her fathomless green eyes and long lashes flatlined any reprimand.

“Sometimes, I can’t help it,” he added.

“Well, help it while I’m here, please.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You also need to be clothed at all times.” Her gaze dipped to his chest and abs before she blinked and resumed eye contact.

He thought about bringing up last night but decided to spare her any embarrassment. He seemed to recall her glaring at him, so he’d best let it go. “Fair enough. Same goes for you.”

“Like I would walk around naked.”

“You’ve never walked around in your birthday suit? Speaking of which, happy belated birthday.”

All the tension left her body, and her arms fell to her sides. “You know when my birthday is?”

“I overheard Nova on the phone with you.” He scratched the back of his neck, because of course he knew. His mom and sister had celebrated it plenty of times over the years. “But back to my original question…”

She tilted her head to the side. “I meant I’d never walk around here naked. I’m very comfortable in my own skin.”

Her confidence was another thing he admired about her. She’d been through hell as a teenager and fought her way back to a strong body. She believed in herself and those she cared about, always sharing an encouraging word.

“Well, for the record, I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“Hunter.”

“Right. Sorry. No flirting. Any other rules on your mind?” He rubbed his shoulder, then reached around under the covers for his pajama pants and started to pull them on.

“What are you doing?” she asked with alarm.

“Putting some clothes on, Miss No Naked Here. I kicked them off during the night.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you. And no other rules at the moment.”

“I’ve got a rule. It only seems fair that I get at least one to your two.”

“Sure. What is it?” She stepped away from the bed to look out the window, pushing aside the sheer curtains Nova had helped him pick out.

Another cloudy morning greeted them. Shit! What time was it? He had work to do on the ranch and a bootcamp class to lead at seven. He jumped out of bed.

Callie spun around in the nick of time to catch his arm before he lost his balance and fell over. The disorienting sensation had him closing his eyes to rid the dizzying range of hues.

“Whoa,” Callie said. “You need to stay in bed.”

“I can’t. I’ve got work to do.”

“Not today, you don’t. Or tomorrow. Those are doctor’s rules, not mine.” She helped him lay down on the bed. “I’m pretty sure you’re covered for whatever work you had.”

“What time is it?”

“Around nine.”

He groaned. “I hope you’re right. This really sucks.” He hated relying on others to do his job. He looked up at her sympathetic faces. Make that face after he took a second to blink her back into focus.

“It does. But some forced time off isn’t always a bad thing.”

She had him there. If only he could tell her she made it not a bad thing. He let out a deep breath. Ouch, that hurt. Note to self: take shallow breaths for the next few days.

“Are you okay now?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s hear this rule of yours.” She moved back to the corner chair and took a seat.

Hands on his stomach and eyes on the ceiling, he said, “You have to treat the bunkhouse like your own. I don’t want you tiptoeing around. My home is your home.”

He’d say the same to anyone staying with him, but it meant even more when said to Callie. Maybe something good would come out of this: a true friendship with her. It wasn’t what his heart wanted, but he knew he couldn’t keep pining away for her forever.

“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

Their gazes connected. “Think you can do it?”

“As long as you follow the other two rules, yes.” She pulled one knee up and wrapped her arms around her leg. A slim ray of sunshine shone through the window, the beam of light bringing one side of her face into a heavenly glow.

The memory of the first time he’d laid eyes on her filled his head: she’d come to the ranch with her older sister, Brooke, for a horseback ride. Her soft features and red curly hair had grabbed his attention, not to mention her enthusiasm for riding.

To the best of his knowledge, Callie hadn’t been near a horse since. Whenever she was on the ranch with Nova, they steered clear of the barn and horses.

“Hunter?” Callie waved her hand at him.

“Sorry. Zoned out there for a minute. Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a solid plan for living together.”

“We’re not living together,” she argued, without an eye roll this time. “I’m just staying with you for a little while.”

“That’s called living together,” he quipped, teasing her. “But don’t worry, I won’t make it so fun you’ll never want to leave.” Or would he? Again, his brain could only handle so much in his compromised state. Plus, he had to tread lightly so as not to scare her away.

The joke was on him, though, when she fired back, “Don’t you worry, I’m prepared for your level of fun.”