tell her the aspirin hadn’t made a dent in her fever yet.
Her clothes were wrinkled, and she felt stale, as if she’d been through some fever-sweat cycles during the night. She stared at herself in the mirror and patted her cheeks. Iain was seeing her at her worst. While she tried to work up proper horror, she really just wanted to feel better.
She opened the door and scraped her shoulder against the frame on her totter out into the hall. “How do I look?” she joked.
He gripped the back of her neck and the support was so welcome, she let her head rest in his grasp. His thumb stroked her jaw, and she closed her eyes. She should pull away from him and maintain a safe distance. She’d learned not to rely on anyone. Not her mother, not any of her boyfriends, not even Izzy.
“You look like shite, Anna.” The sympathy in his rumbly brogue took any of the sting out of the words.
“I appreciate your honesty.” And, strangely enough, she did. Iain didn’t seem like the type to sugarcoat or feed a person what they wanted to hear. He was a man of hard truths, but truths nonetheless.
“Your appointment,” he said.
“Yep. Where are my keys?” She tried to remember if she’d brought her purse in or left her keys on the desk in the office.
“I’m driving you.”
“But I can—”
“Lass, don’t be stubborn, you can barely walk. You’d be a danger to yourself and anyone else on the road. I’m driving.” His voice brooked no argument. Not that she really wanted to make one. She meekly followed him outside to where Izzy’s old pickup was parked close to the front door. Had he moved it so she wouldn’t have to walk so far?
He opened the passenger side door as if it were a date. The seats were warm from the sun, and as the warmth seeped into her fever-chilled body, she closed her eyes and turned boneless.
A hard arm pressed against her torso and her eyes popped open. His head was close. So close, she could see his dark hair wasn’t one color, but made of many shades. This was what happened when she let herself get close. Things got complicated and interesting. She wanted to sift her fingers through the strands and study each one. She raised her hand—
He pulled the seat belt across her body, snapping it into place and snapping her out of her reverie. The fever was planting foolish thoughts. The jouncing trip to town left her feeling vaguely nauseous, and she sank lower in the seat and took deep breaths.
“You’re not going to toss your biscuits, are you?”
“My appetite is nonexistent at the moment.”
His laugh was like hot chocolate on a cold day or being covered in wriggling puppies or a BLT made with sun-warmed freshly picked tomatoes. In other words, it made her feel good and might qualify as one of her favorite things.
“Tossing your biscuits means throwing up.”
“Oh.” She smiled despite the roil of her stomach. “No, I think my biscuits will remain untossed.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to explain to Isabel how her truck became a biohazard when I get back.”
Her smile flipped upside down. It was a good reminder he was leaving and she shouldn’t get attached. “I’ll be fine,” she said defiantly, not sure if she was talking about getting over her sickness or the reality of him eventually leaving.
She helped him navigate his way through downtown Highland, where the summer bustle was in full swing. The number of tourists would explode as the festival drew closer. Iain parked in front of a plain cement block building a mile out of town.
She’d gone to Highland Family Practice since she was a kid, but couldn’t recall the last time she’d been in. As a small business owner, her healthcare insurance was costly, and she had adopted a “this too shall pass” mentality. But she would sign over her first-born child—if she ever had one—to feel better.
Iain rounded the cab and opened her door. When she tried to get out, it was like the weight of the universe pressed her back down.
“Seat belt,” he said shortly.
“Huh?”
He reached across her again and freed her from the pressing weight. She exhaled. “Thanks. My brain is spinning its wheels and getting nowhere.”
Inside, they shared a waiting room with people of all ages. A coughing toddler and an eighty-something-year-old lady twirling a cane between her knees were called back.
Finally, Mrs. Pettigrew, the nurse practitioner, stuck her head