lips? Let’s see.” He moved in closer, threaded a hand through her hair and kissed her. Beautifully. But...
“How was that?” he whispered.
“I feel...” She’d had way too much to eat. And drink. “I think I’m going to... Oh, no! My room key.” She fished the card out of her bra where she’d stuck it and quickly turned to the door.
“You okay?” he asked.
She barely got out the word “Norovirus!” before dashing into the room and to the bathroom.
11
Sophie wasn’t at breakfast the next morning but her sister was. “Where’s the sis?” Trevor asked.
“Hungover,” Sierra said. “How much did she drink last night after I left?”
“Only two, I swear,” he said.
“That on top of the wine she had at dinner, plus the drink before the glassblower started talking.” Sierra shook her head. “She’s not a big drinker.”
“I’ll remember that in the future and just buy her pop,” Trevor promised.
Sierra cocked her head and studied him. “Thinking of a future with my sister?” she asked with a smile.
“Maybe,” he said, smiling back. “She’s pretty amazing.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Think she’s going to be up to seeing Heidelberg?”
“I don’t know. Right now she’s in bed and sure she’s dying.”
“Asking for a doctor?”
“How’d you guess?”
Trevor grinned. “Did I mention I took a first aid course in college? I know a couple of cures for a hangover.”
“I bet you do.” Sierra reached around and pulled a key card out of the back pocket of her jeggings. “She’s going to be pissed if she misses seeing Heidelberg. See what you can do, doc.”
“I’m on it,” he said, taking the card.
He went to the pastry table and collected a croissant, then he got some coffee and made his way to the girls’ room. Juggling the food, he managed to knock on the door, then unlocked it and pushed it open. Eased in cautiously to make sure she was presentable.
Sophie was under the down comforter, on her back with an arm over her head. “Are you back already?”
“Yes,” Trevor said in a falsetto.
The arm came down and Sophie opened one eye to see him approaching the bed. “Trevor! What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to cure your hangover.”
“I’m dying,” she groaned. “And I look terrible. But then people do look terrible when they’re dying, don’t they?”
“Come on,” he urged, “try and sit up.”
“I can’t. The bed’s spinning.”
“I brought you some coffee. It will help with the spinning. And some carbs.”
“Carbs. I ate way too many carbs yesterday.”
“This will help your brain. Come on.”
She sat up, the covers falling away. She was wearing some kind of sleep shirt, red with little Santa faces all over it. No bra. Don’t look.
“I can’t eat,” she groaned.
“Then start by drinking.” He held out the coffee, making a valiant effort to keep his eyes on her face. A very cute face, with hair falling over it.
“Drinking—don’t say that word,” she protested, and pushed her hair away.
Don’t look below her chin. He looked. Okay, so he was human.
“I’ll, uh, get you some water,” he said, setting down the croissant and moving away from the bed. “Keep drinking that coffee.” He fetched water, then returned and set it on the nightstand along with the croissant. “Got any aspirin? That’s best for hangovers.”
“In my purse. I like to be prepared for anything,” she added.
“Where is your purse?”
“On the counter,” she said, and groaned.
The one she’d had the other day, a red fake leather number was, indeed, sitting on the counter. He picked it up. Good Lord, what did she have in the thing, weights?
“How do you carry this around without your arm going numb?” he muttered.
“It’s not that heavy.” She took another sip of coffee.
He tried looking for the aspirin. It had to be in there somewhere but where? He saw a pink wallet, a couple of travel-size bottles of hand sanitizer, hand lotion, tissues, a small brush, her cell phone, mints, antacid, a little emergency sewing kit—all that was missing was the partridge in the pear tree. She was definitely prepared for anything.
He gave up and set the purse next to her. “You’d better look. It’s a jungle in there.” She handed over her half-finished coffee and opened the purse, rooted around and came out with a small bottle of aspirin, then groaned and fell back against the headboard.
He took the bottle, opened it and shook out two pills. “Here you go. Breakfast of champions.” She downed the aspirin and water and he made another try with the croissant. “Okay, carb time.”