Lies And Lullabies: Courting the Cowboy Boss

“I’m pretty sure Mellie Winslow isn’t interested in my money.”

“We were talking about you and the flu. Have you changed the subject?”

Case leaned against the doorframe, his knees the consistency of spaghetti. “I need to get back in bed.”

“Yes, you do. Your color is lousy.”

“Tell her I’ll call her after I take a nap.”

“You sure?”

Case nodded. “Yeah. Maybe by then I’ll have had an epiphany.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Very funny.” Case held out his hand. “Thank you.”

Parker returned the handshake. “Glad I could help. If you get worse, don’t hesitate to call. Men make lousy patients. Being a hero in this situation is the worst thing you could do.”

“Duly noted.”

With Parker gone, the house was quiet again. Case stumbled back to his bedroom and fell facedown on the bed. Parker had made him swear to take medicine on schedule. Case intended to keep that promise, but first he had to sleep.

* * *

Mellie paced from one side of her smallish living room to the other. Dr. Reese had said that Case would be in touch. But Reese had contacted her right after lunch, and it was now almost five o’clock.

In the interim, she had put together a dish of homemade lasagna and baked that, along with some oatmeal cookies. The house smelled wonderful, but it looked as if she was going to be eating alone.

She could hardly expect Case to be grateful for her help. Men hated feeling vulnerable. Case probably loathed the realization that Mellie had played nurse. Besides, there was a chance he didn’t even remember her being there.

But Mellie remembered. Wow, did she. In the middle of the night when Case had finally stopped shivering and his temperature had moderated, she had relaxed enough to doze with him in her arms. She didn’t sleep deeply. But when she roused again and again to check on her patient’s condition, it had been a shock to find herself entwined with him in a quasi-intimate position.

Gradually, as the night waned, she’d felt something shift inside her. No matter how much she wanted to maintain boundaries for her own emotional protection, after this weekend she would never be able to look at Case the same way again.

The fact that he hadn’t called or even sent her a text this afternoon told her he wanted her to stay away. The loud silence hurt. Even though she thought she understood why he hadn’t made contact, her feelings were bruised. In truth, she might have to assign someone else to continue cleaning Case’s house. The situation was likely untenable.

Telling herself not to be maudlin and foolish, she wandered into the kitchen and found a paper plate and some plastic utensils. She was too tired to worry about cleaning up after herself, and since she had unloaded the dishwasher only an hour before, she didn’t want to make a mess.

She was moments away from scooping out a small serving of pasta when her phone made a quiet noise. Her heart pounding, she wiped her hands and glanced at the screen.

Are you busy?

It was Case.

No. Are you hungry?

She told herself she was only being a Good Samaritan. That she wasn’t throwing caution to the wind and launching herself willy-nilly into a situation that was wildly inappropriate. Feeding a neighbor in need was a Texas tradition.

Her phone buzzed again.

I’m starving.

I made lasagna. Would you like me to bring you some?

I don’t want to interrupt your evening.

She smiled in spite of herself.

It’s no trouble. See you soon.

Working rapidly, she covered the casserole dish and wrapped it in towels to keep it warm. The loaf of fresh bread from the bakery in town could be heated in Case’s microwave. Even if Dr. Reese had provided lunch for his friend, that was a long time ago. She didn’t want Case to wait any longer than necessary.

On the way out to the ranch, she lectured herself. Stay calm. Don’t let him bait you. Treat him like a brother.

There were two problems with that last suggestion. Number one—she’d never had a brother. And number two—her reactions to Case Baxter bore no resemblance at all to sibling affection. He disturbed her, provoked her and made her want things.

Unfortunately, the trip was not long enough to gain any real handle on the situation. Before she knew it, she was unloading the car and making her way up the steps of Case’s home. With her arms full, she had no choice but to ring the bell.

It was almost a full minute before the door opened. Case stood there staring at her, the planes of his face shadowed in the harsh glare of the porch light. “Please come in,” he said.

In the foyer, he insisted on taking most of the load away from her. As she followed him to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but notice the way his gray sweatpants rode low on his hips. In the midst of the cheery room she had worked so hard to organize, the lighting was better. Now she could see all of Case. His navy cotton shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white T-shirt underneath that clung to the contours of his muscled chest.

When she could tear her gaze away from all that male magnificence, she saw—as she’d suspected—that he was definitely not 100 percent. His eyes were sunken and his hair was askew. But he smiled.

“This smells amazing, Mellie.”

“I hope you like Italian food. I suppose I should have asked about your preferences before I fixed something.”

“I’m not a picky eater.”

He set the containers on the table and pulled out her chair. “Let me get you a glass of wine,” he said. But she noticed that despite his polite manners, he was weaving on his feet.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She resisted his attempt to make her take a seat. His skin was clammy and his hands unsteady. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Sit down, Case. Now.”

Surprisingly, he obeyed, but said, “I don’t expect you to wait on me.” The statement was a shade on the belligerent side.

She handled him the same way she would a fractious toddler. “You’re not well. Sit there and rest while I get things ready.”

He didn’t argue, but his gaze followed her as she moved around his kitchen. His eyes were dark, his unshaven jaw tight. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “For what happened when you were here before.”

She shot him a look. “You mean last night?”

His jaw dropped noticeably before he snapped it shut. Dark color slashed his cheekbones. “I don’t remember much about last night.”

For once, she had the upper hand. He was juggling a healthy dose of discomfiture. It was almost funny to see the suave, self-assured cowboy off his game. “Not much to remember.” She set a plate of food in front of him. “Eat it before it gets cold.”

He grabbed her wrist, not painfully, but firmly. Enough to stop her in her tracks. “I made inappropriate remarks about your clothing. I kissed you. I’m sorry.”