Hot Mess Express
. . .
Ellie
“Cade!” I fought the urge to throw up while trying to wiggle myself free. “What are you doing? Put me down.”
He very noticeably did not put me down, instead following the route back to our cabin. Every step made my stomach heave, and I clung to the front of Cade’s shirt, curling against him to brace myself against the motion.
And if my face found itself tucked into his neck until every breath inhaled his woodsy scent, then the nausea was to blame.
Too bad my rolling stomach ruined the moment, and I moaned pitifully. “Um, I’m going to be sick—”
“Not yet,” Cade ordered, as if I could just decide not to throw up. “We’re almost there.”
He cleared a few stairs with one jump, raced down a hallway, and practically tore down the door to our cabin, before placing me right in front of the toilet.
I promptly puked my guts out.
It wasn’t pretty. Or fun. Or even a slight bit of relief.
In fact, I would’ve preferred death.
Cade crouched next to me, pulling my hair back and saving it from getting covered in vomit. He rubbed a steady, reassuring hand over my bare back, while I burned with mortification.
My embarrassment tripled when the diamond ring sparkled at me from my death grip on the toilet seat.
I flung my hand toward Cade. “Take it off—I don’t want to get vomit on it!”
Cade took my hand and gently slid the ring off without questioning me. I looked up long enough to see him set it on the vanity and return to my side before another wave rose up, and I turned back to the bowl.
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as my stomach heaved again. When I’d slipped into this gorgeous dress earlier, I’d never imagined I’d end up crumpled on the floor and puking my guts out in it.
When the vomiting eased for a moment, another pathetic moan escaped me. I didn’t dare lift my head to face Cade, and he didn’t stop running his fingertips over my back.
It was almost peaceful, until something soft and furry rubbed against my ankle.
“Stay away, Whiskey!” I cried, clinging to the bowl. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
He meowed in protest.
“I got him.” Cade took one of my hands, pulling it back to grip the ponytail he’d gathered my hair into, then got up from beside me. The fur disappeared from my ankle next, and I flushed the toilet while Cade was gone.
The door clicked shut, and he settled in next to me again. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he retook my hair and tied something around it to keep it pulled back.
I whimpered as the full weight of the situation sank in. “See? Our deal is so stressful, it’s making me physically ill.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the alcohol?” Cade asked dryly.
Moaning, I slumped against the toilet. “You don’t understand. I can’t keep lying to all those lovely people when all they’ve done is be nice to me.”
Minus Candace, who seemed to loathe me with a burning passion.
Cade’s hand found my back again, rubbing soothingly. “Sure you can.”
“I really can’t. It’s too much.”
“It’s only for a few more days. If you want more money—”
“I don’t care about the money!” I cried, before a rogue hiccup escaped.
His hand froze, and a long pause passed. “… I need this, Ellie. Please.”
His words sounded like they were being forced out. I guessed Cade Westbrook didn’t ask for help very often.
And despite the toll lying was taking on me, I still wanted to help him.
A dry heave interrupted those thoughts, and I whimpered, praying nothing else came up.
Cade resumed his rubbing. “Can I get you anything?”
“Maybe a time machine so I can go back and not pick up that last glass of wine,” I grumbled.
He chuckled, and I pulled my head out of the toilet to glare at him.
“Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so,’” I warned.
His lips twitched. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Feeling gross, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sniffled. “But I really can’t keep doing this. There’s a stain forming on my soul. I can feel it darkening.”
“Stained soul or not, I’m not letting you out of our deal,” he said.
I groaned. “You didn’t hear your brother earlier. He was being really sweet, and he’s so happy for us. I’m a monster for lying to him.”
Cade hummed. “Why don’t you sleep on it, and we’ll see how you feel in the morning?”
“Don’t treat me like a baby.” I frowned. “I already made up my mind.”
His brows rose. “You’re drunk, Ellie. Humor me and sleep on it first.”
My entire body heaved with a dramatic sigh—which really wasn’t a great idea with my stomach this sensitive. It twisted in warning.
“I… I’m gonna be sick again,” I moaned before hunching over the bowl and emptying the rest of my stomach.
Cade was a real trouper. He stayed by my side the whole time, and when there was nothing left to purge, he sat on the tile floor and tugged me into his lap while I sniffled.
I tensed against his warm chest. “What are you doing?”
“I thought cuddling might help you feel better,” he said evenly, my heart stuttering as he tightened his arms around me. “How’s this?”
I had to swallow before I could answer, because maybe it was a little too comfortable.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed out, moving a little so my slick forehead was tucked against Cade’s neck, seeking comfort.
I don’t know how long Cade held me like that, just providing comfort and combing his fingers through my hair. My eyes drifted closed, and I soaked in his warmth. Having him take care of me like this was almost worth the puking.
But eventually, he pulled my head back and wiped at the tear tracks staining my cheeks.
His gaze lingered on my lips, a whole different sort of warmth swooping through me.
“Stop it,” I warned softly.
Cade’s eyes flicked back up to mine, and he cocked a brow. “Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “How am I looking at you?”
“Like you want to kiss me,” I whispered. “Which isn’t fair, because I have vomit breath, and you can’t kiss me when I have vomit breath.”
He definitely smiled at that. “One second.”
He moved to slide me off his lap, but I clung to his shoulders. “Wait. Don’t leave.”
But he still set me on the cool tile and pried my fingers from his shirt. “I’m not going far. Wait here.”
He smoothly rose to his feet, having shed his tux jacket and loosened his bow tie earlier.
He walked to the vanity, and my stomach settled as he got out a toothbrush and ran it under the running faucet.
The room was silent aside from the quiet brush of bristles as he added toothpaste.
Finished at the sink, he returned and sat with his legs crisscrossed in front of me. “Open up, Darling.”
In reflex, I opened my mouth, wide-eyed as he guided the toothbrush inside before… brushing my teeth?
“What are you doing?” I mumbled around the toothbrush, the words almost unintelligible.
Cade focused on the task at hand, taking care to get each individual tooth. “You said I can’t kiss you when you have vomit breath.”
My jaw dropped, but I was quick to close it before any foaming toothpaste dripped out.
Cade was going to kiss me.
That was basically what he’d said, right?
I blinked way more times than was healthy at this new development. I didn’t know what to do. My hands felt like they’d lost their purpose in life and were in the way now.
So I just sat and stared at Cade while he single-mindedly brushed my teeth with the same attentiveness he gave to any other task.
Except this one was intimate. And straight into butterflies-raiding-my-stomach territory.
When he finished and pulled the toothbrush back, my pulse spiked as anticipation lit my veins.
“Wait,” I whispered, suddenly nervous. I swallowed—something I was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to do with toothpaste, but I wasn’t about to spit it out in the toilet. “I need mouthwash, too.”
I wasn’t risking him tasting even a hint of vomit on me.
Cade chuckled and rose to his feet. He tugged me up with him and carried me over to the sink—which I found a little overkill, because I could still walk.
He set me in front of the vanity—facing the mirror—while shadowing me.
Cade’s eyes snared mine in the mirror as he reached around me for a small bottle of mouthwash.
Holding my gaze, he pulled a tiny cup with fish on it out of a drawer.
My heart thundered in my chest, and I watched in silence while he poured a generous splash into the cup before handing it to me.
I tried not to be too eager about taking the mouthwash and swishing it around my mouth as the air between us grew charged.
Keenly aware of how close he stood, I skipped gargling and just bent over to spit it out. Heart palpitations overwhelmed me, and my hand shook as I set the tiny cup down.
This was it.
“Okay,” I whispered, forcing my eyes up to meet his dark gaze again. “I’m ready.”
Cade’s hands settled on my hips, and he slowly turned me around until my lower back met the cool edge of the vanity—with his presence impossibly closer. One hand trailed up to my neck, his thumb tilting my chin up. Our eyes met, and that spark of attraction flared again, my breath hitching.
Cade leaned in, my eyelids fluttered shut, and anticipation threatened to consume me, until…
His lips pressed against my forehead.
I frowned in betrayal.
… He’d kissed my forehead?