Chapter Three
Taco woke Faith with a sharp bark before the sun was up. Her head pounded, her throat was sore, and every muscle in her body ached. She winced. Even her eyeballs were sore.
What the hell?
She turned onto her side and let her legs fall off the bed. Taco’s wet nose pushed against her bare skin, and he whined. He needed out.
“Hold on,” she whispered hoarsely, making a pained face as she sat up.
The room spun for a few seconds, and it took some to get her bearings.
When she finally did and staggered to her feet, she knew she hadn’t felt this crappy in years.
Her skin was hot, but she felt cold. Faith had no idea if she had the flu or some virus or if her body had finally rebelled against all the stress and trauma she’d endured over the last few weeks.
Shivering, she managed to pull out a sweatshirt from her suitcase, then grabbed Taco’s leash and a baggie.
Her watch told her that it was just after 4 a.m., and gritting her teeth, she forced herself out of her apartment and quietly walked downstairs.
There was a nightlight in the foyer. She turned and walked past Candy’s door and on into the common area at the back of the house.
She paused for a moment, gathered her strength, and then opened the door that led to the backyard.
Faith leaned against the deck while Taco ran at least ten circles before finding the right spot, and when the dog was done his business, she scooped and bagged and glanced around. She felt as if she would fall over if she didn’t get back to bed.
“There’s a garbage pail inside the shed.”
“The hell?” she said. Heart pounding in tandem with her head, she spied a man a few feet away.
Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and it didn’t take her long to realize it was Gus.
He stepped forward, still dressed in his work clothes.
The T-shirt was rumpled, his hair mussed, and his strong chin was darkened with at least a few days’ worth of stubble.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry.” His deep voice was low, and she had a hard time hearing him.
She moved a step back but had to close her eyes because the world began to spin again.
Taco, interested in the male, tugged on his leash, and it slipped through her fingers.
She would have called him back to her, but Faith couldn’t form any words.
Her stomach roiled and, horrified, she managed to stagger to the side of the house and heaved for what seemed like, forever, before resting her forehead against the cool brick.
“I didn’t think you looked well earlier.”
Faith wiped at her mouth and, trying her best not to cry, she exhaled slowly and turned her head to the side.
“I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”
One minute turned into at least two, and when she finally straightened, she was surprised to find Gus still watching from the shadows. Taco stood at his side, ears forward, tail wagging slowly as if assessing his mistress’s state of mind.
“You look like you need a hand,” Gus said, taking a step forward.
“I’m fine,” she replied, searching for the bag she’d tossed earlier.
“I put it in the bin.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
“Your knees are shaking.” He moved closer. “I’ll walk you up.”
Aware that underneath the oversized sweatshirt, she was practically naked, Faith kept herself at arm’s length as she slowly made her way to the back deck.
Her legs felt like they’d been hollowed out and filled with lead, while her skin was on fire, and her throat hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.
She swallowed and whimpered at the pain, then grabbed hold of the railing.
It was bad enough the man had just witnessed her being sick; she wasn’t going to fall on her ass, too.
Carefully, she made her way into the house, hyper-aware of Gus trailing a few feet behind. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, wishing she were already inside the privacy of her own space so she could give in and cry her heart out.
She’d never felt this low. Ever.
Instead, she took the stairs slowly and was almost to her apartment when her knees buckled, and she would have ended up on the floor, but two strong arms grabbed hold of her and held her close.
She didn’t need her legs to stand on because he did the standing for her.
And in that moment, his heat and strength were a comfort she didn’t know she needed.
In fact, her body, which up until now had been held rigid, relaxed, and she melted into him.
He smelled like the forest — pine and earth and air.
Unaware of the lone tear that made its way down her face, she looked up at him and froze when he gently pressed it away.
“Is your door unlocked?” His voice was gruff.
She nodded, unable to answer because there was a big old lump in her throat, and she was afraid that if she did try to speak, she’d sound like a complete idiot.
Gus led her inside the apartment and closed the door behind them. Taco happily ran toward the kitchenette and his food and water bowls while Gus led her to the sofa. She was shivering by this point, her skin slick with fever, her hair sticking to her sweaty neck.
“Do you have any cold and flu meds?”
She shook her head.
“Juice?”
Again, she shook her head, her teeth chattering while she tried to answer. “I haven’t had time to get organized or anything.”
He sighed and frowned. “I’ll be back.”
She wanted to protest. Tell him she didn’t need his help. She wanted to crawl into bed and disappear from the world. Wanted to forget. Wanted to be home again, surrounded by her family.
But everything she wanted was gone. Everything she wanted had been a fraud.
Gus appeared a few moments later with a large blanket that he draped over her before heading into the kitchenette. He returned with a glass of orange juice and some pain meds.
“Take two of these and drink all the juice. Go to bed and I’ll check on you before I leave for work in a couple of hours.”
Faith downed the pills and finished her juice before falling back onto the sofa. “You don’t have to . . .” Her mouth was dry, and it was hard to speak. “I can look after myself.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, lady, but it doesn’t look like you can.”
Her eyes shot open, and she winced at the fresh wave of pain that carved its way across her forehead.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing a hand.” He stood back. “Do you want me to help you to bed?”
“No,” she answered sharply. Maybe a little too sharply. “I can manage in a bit. I’m fine here for now.”
“Okay.” Gus stepped back. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll be back later.”
He was almost to the door when Faith croaked. “What were you doing out there?”
He paused, those dark eyes of his not giving anything away. “Thinking.”
She licked at her dry lips. “You can’t do that in your apartment?”
He held her gaze a heartbeat longer. “No.”
Then he was gone, and she fell back onto the sofa, exhausted and sad and more than a little anxious. She was supposed to start a new job in less than eight hours and felt as if she’d just been hit by a freight train. Her cash would only go so far. She needed this job.
“I’m kinda screwed, Taco.”
The dog climbed up onto the sofa and cuddled into her side. Faith drew the heavy blanket up to her chin, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She knew that sleep was the only thing that could help her and prayed her body would let it happen.
As luck would have it, sleep found her and not more than ten minutes later, she was deep in dreamland.
* * *
It was the smell that woke her.
Slowly, Faith opened her eyes and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
The light fixture was an antique. She sat up on her elbows and looked around.
Her head was fuzzy, her tongue was fuzzier, and she needed the bathroom.
She spied a suitcase propped up on a dresser at about the same time she remembered exactly where she was.
And why.
With a groan, she pulled back the covers and slid from the bed. Her legs were still wobbly, but she managed to get to the bathroom on her own. Five minutes later, she walked down the small hall cautiously, following the scent of food like a starving animal on the hunt. Someone was in the apartment.
She spied Taco, sitting patiently by the breakfast nook, head trained toward the kitchenette.
Faith took two more steps before she saw him.
Gus. In her kitchen. He looked as intense as ever.
In fact, the frown on his face was intimidating.
She considered retreating, but her stomach rumbled, and she was too damn hungry to care what he thought of her.
Aware that she looked awful and thankful she’d at least pulled on sweats over her pajamas, Faith cleared her throat and froze when he turned away from the small stove.
“You’re up.” He’d changed into clean clothes, a simple black T-shirt and jeans, and his hair was wet as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. He didn’t smile — didn’t give any indication at all that he was happy to see her.
“Are you on your way to work?” Her voice was a little scratchy, and she cleared her throat, grabbing for a chair as a wave of exhaustion rushed over her.
“You need to sit.”
With no strength to argue, Faith sat on one of two chairs at the small table. A glass of juice was there, and her stomach rumbled — a good sign. She sat a bit straighter. What smelled so good?
Gus was at the stove again, stirring something in a pot.
“I can . . . you don’t have to stay here. I don’t want you to be late for work.”
He turned around, eyebrow raised. “I’m done for the day.”
Faith’s eyes flew to the window. “What do you mean . . .” Her voice trailed off when she spied the clock on the microwave. Ten p.m.
“You’ve been out all day and needed it. I moved you to your bedroom and Candy looked after your dog until I got back.”
“You moved me?” she croaked.
“You didn’t walk there on your own.”
“Shit,” she whispered, panicked. “I was supposed to start at The Dock.” With shoulders slumped, she stared down at her toes.
“I spoke to Hal and told him you were not well.”
Faith slowly lifted her head.
Gus pointed to the stock pot on the stove. “He sent his world-famous goulash.” Then he moved toward her door. “Eat it and keep taking that cold and flu on the counter. Call Hal in the morning and let him know if you’re good enough to start.”
“I don’t have a cell.” Liar. She swallowed thickly and thought of the phone tucked away in her suitcase. A phone she couldn’t use. Not if she wanted to stay hidden.
“There’s a landline in the common area. You can use that.”
Gus gave a curt nod and walked past her to the door.
“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure if he heard.
“I’m across the hall if you need anything, but lady, don’t come knocking unless you’re at death’s door. I don’t have time to play nursemaid.”
He grabbed hold of the knob and glanced over his shoulder.
His eyes were too intense. A shiver ran over her; mouth dry, she reached for the glass of juice he’d placed on the table.
She thought he would say something and held her breath, waiting.
But after a few long moments, he opened the door and disappeared.
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she let it out in a long rush. “What a grump,” she muttered. “Didn’t ask you to look after me.”
Faith stared at the empty room for a long time, then, with a determined step, got to her feet and padded over to the stove. The goulash smelled heavenly, and if she wanted to be able to work the next day, she needed to eat.
She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and filled it to the brim.
Her legs were shaking again, but she figured it wasn’t because she was sick but because she needed sustenance.
She made it to the sofa and spied the blanket Gus had brought her when he’d helped her back to the apartment.
Carefully, she placed the bowl of goulash on the table beside the sofa and then grabbed the blanket.
It smelled like him. She’d like to say the scent made her cringe, but there was something about it. Some earthy maleness she kind of liked. In spite of the fact that he was so disagreeable.
She pulled it over her legs, grabbed the bowl, and began to eat food sent to her by Hal, a man she barely knew. She’d been taken care of by another man she barely knew. And her dog had been looked after by a woman she’d only just met.
Fire Lake wasn’t like any place she’d ever been before. Maybe it was kismet that she was here. Maybe her car was meant to break down outside this small town. Maybe she would be okay. After everything.
It was a lot of maybes. And as she dug into the hot stew, Faith decided not to think of them. She would get through one day at a time. And maybe, eventually, she would be okay.