Chapter 2
Sterling
This night was not turning out how I thought it would.
I didn’t expect to throw out and fire the only help I had at the shop.
I didn’t have much choice though. They were dealing drugs and parting out stolen vehicles in the shop after hours.
Which was exactly why I “forgot” something in my office and had to come back after hours.
I wanted to catch them in the act and make sure they found some place far away to continue their antics.
I should have listened to my gut with those two.
My gut also forced me out to the alley to make sure they weren’t killing each other.
They both thought the other one was a rat and started throwing punches.
The reality was they were terrible criminals, sloppy morons that couldn’t cover their tracks. I knew something was up weeks ago.
I glance at her again. Her olive toned skin has taken on a slightly green hue and her eyes are shut.
She looks like she is coming down with something—or she is going to be sick.
If I ask, she might think I care about her.
Which I don’t. I don’t even know her. Right--keep telling yourself that asshole.
In order to be safe, I opt to go the moody bastard route.
“You aren’t planning on puking in my truck, are you?
” I never said I would win any awards for being polite.
She shifts slightly and cracks open one of her eyes.
Her glasses are crooked on her face. “I haven’t planned anything that has happened tonight.
” She closes her eye again and sighs. “The short story is I have a migraine. I normally don’t lose my lunch—it has been known to happen once or twice though.
I am trying to make it home so I can take my meds. ”
I am silent as I drive towards her address.
Not wanting to apologize I go with the asshole option again.
“We have about 10 minutes—try to restrain yourself.’’ Truthfully, I am slightly concerned.
She is looking paler and it looks like she is massaging her head with far too much force.
Whatever. Like I care. Not my fucking problem.
She doesn’t respond to my gruff statement.
Jesus, she certainly lives out in BFE. Not that I’m complaining.
I like the solitude myself. My mind wanders to what her house may be like.
Does she live alone? Will she be alright tonight?
How will she get back to the shop to get her vehicle?
Of course, I will not ask all of those questions.
Hopefully she will volunteer some of this information herself.
I pull onto a street that has a few small houses on it and find her small cottage.
“Is this it,” I ask. Pulling into the carport.
She hums what I assume is a yes. I turn off the truck and look over at her.
She is fumbling with her seatbelt. Reaching over, I undo it.
I get out and make my way around the truck to open the door. She trips out, eyes still closed.
“Jesus, do you have a death wish? Let me help you.” She stops and lets me guide her to the front door.
Good thing too, this stone pathway is a fucking hazard.
Fumbling around in her purse she locates her key ring and hands it to me.
There are 3 keys on it, and one is for her truck.
I pick one and hope it’s the right one. Damn, I’m good. It worked.
There was a soft light on over the sink in the small kitchen that illuminated the way.
As soon as the door was open, she blindly stumbled through the kitchen to the living room and laid down on the grey sectional couch.
She pulled a pillow over her face and sighed.
I stood there awkwardly wondering why the hell I didn’t just leave her there.
Looking around her cottage it was small, but neat.
It had a mixture of old and new, but things were definitely taken care of.
Clearing my throat, I was about to ask if she needed anything when she bolted up and staggered to the bathroom off the hallway.
Slamming the toilet lid up, she was just in time to empty the meager contents of her stomach.
I would have held her hair back but with it being chin length, it wasn’t necessary.
From the floor, she reached up and grabbed the hand towel that was hanging on the side of the 1950s style sink.
After wiping her face, she tried to lay on the floor.
“Let me help you back to the couch.” Reaching out, I grab her elbow and help her up as she rises.
“You don’t have to,” she murmurs. She sounds embarrassed.
I say nothing and just propel her gently towards the large couch that has enough pillows on it to suffocate a dinosaur.
She returns to her original position, with the pillow over her face.
“Shouldn’t you be taking something for this headache from hell,” I asked her lowly.
“Later,” she whispers. Nope. No good. I’m wondering why I give a shit. I don’t know this girl at all. I should be hightailing it out of here. Not playing nursemaid. I clench my teeth.
“Where do you keep your pills,” I sighed. Knowing that I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Just add nurse maid to the resume tonight.
“Medicine cabinet, orange bottle, blue top,” she managed to get out.
I walked back to where the remake of the exorcist just happened and hunt through her medicine cabinet.
The cabinet looks like it came out of the same lot the sink did.
I locate the bottle quickly enough, noting that it is right next to her birth control pills. Interesting.
I hang a right out of the bathroom to grab her some water. Rifling through her cabinets, I find a mug and turn on the faucet to fill it.
I set the mug and the pill bottle down on the dark wooden coffee table. She looks like she is sleeping, or dead. I watch for the telltale rise of her ample chest. Still breathing. I sigh in relief. I nudge her shoulder.
Shaking the pill bottle at her, I notice there are only a couple in there. “Here, take your shit before you throw up again.”
She groans and reaches for the bottle, blindly unscrewing the cap.
She pours the last two in her hand and tosses them back with the water.
She lays back down and proceeds to fall asleep --or pass out.
Moving away from the couch, I walk back through the kitchen and lock the front door.
Jesus, this girl just invites trouble. There is what appears to be a guest room off the kitchen.
I toss my jacket on the dresser, unlace my boots and kick them off.
I lay back on top of the comforter. I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit.