CHAPTER FIVE
MAL WOKE UP WITH A POUNDING HEADACHE. Bright sunlight streamed into the room and cut across his eyes, making him wince. He pushed himself upright and fumbled for the remote. A second later, custom shades louvered down, muting the light. He sighed in relief.
He lay for a long minute, his arm over his eyes, and concentrated on breathing. He was in his bed, which was a good thing—except he didn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He was still fully clothed. Also a good thing since if he’d had sex with his houseguest, he wouldn’t remember a moment of it.
He turned his head and verified he was alone. He was going to have to crawl out of this bed and find some aspirin. Then he was going to crawl back into it and wait for the pounding to subside.
“You’re awake,” a sweet voice said, and he jerked his head toward the door. He immediately regretted the maneuver and groaned out loud.
“Unless you’ve got Motrin, you’d better close that door and leave me the hell alone.”
Sabrina snorted. He could hear her moving toward him across the tiles. And then he could smell her, the sweet scent of lemon and vanilla sliding into his nostrils and making him want to breathe deeply.
Except there was a stale odor of whiskey overlying the sweetness. He sniffed again and realized that smell came from him.
“Two Motrin and a glass of water,” she said.
He pried an eye open to look at her. Sure enough, she was holding out a hand with two oval-shaped white caplets. In her other hand was a glass.
He levered himself up and took the pills from her. Then he gulped them down and chased them with water. Maybe he should be more concerned about her poisoning him—she was still a stranger, after all. But if his death was what she was after, she could have killed him in his sleep hours ago. More likely, if she’d been a criminal, she’d have stolen him blind after he passed out last night.
He flopped back down and lay quietly.
“I’m fixing you some eggs and toast. It will help.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I think I do.”
He ran through the evening in his head. He remembered her coming out onto the lanai. He’d been sitting there for hours, sipping whiskey and thinking about Chris. She’d fed him and… holy shit, he’d lost his cool. He vaguely remembered sobbing in her arms.
Fucking manly.
And a song. She’d sung to him. It had been such a sweet, soothing tune that he’d never wanted her to stop.
But she had, and he’d downed more whiskey while telling her all about Chris. He’d told her about the things they’d done as kids, about how Chris should have been a professional football player too. Except Chris had chosen the Army because he had an honorable streak and wanted to make a difference.
Mal didn’t make a difference. He got paid ridiculous amounts of money to play a game that consisted of putting on pads and running down a field while trying not to get crushed.
He’d babbled like a girl, talking and talking until he was hoarse. Until the lanai swam and his head spun and Sabrina had urged him onto his feet and, somehow for a shorty, helped him to his room.
He opened an eye again. Sabrina was gone. Part of him hoped she would leave, that she’d take his car keys and drive away. He felt a low kick in his gut at the thought of her actually doing so. When the silence stretched out and he was ready to stumble from bed, the door opened again and she entered bearing a tray.
He could smell coffee. His stomach didn’t rebel, which he took as a good sign. Sabrina walked over and set the tray on the ottoman at the end of the bed.
She was wearing a long dress that went to the floor, and there was a split up both sides when she moved that showed her legs to the knee. Her blond hair was long and slightly curly, and her smile was still the prettiest thing he’d seen in ages.
“Can you sit up?”
“Not sure I want to.”
“Come on, give it a try. I think the food will help.”
He worked his way up to a sitting position while she tucked pillows behind him. Then she got the tray and brought it to him. There were scrambled eggs and plain toast, along with a cup of coffee. He picked up the coffee and sipped that first.
“That’s good.”
She shrugged. “Hard to screw up coffee when you have a Keurig. All I did was pop in a K-Cup.”
“It’s still good.” He downed half the cup before attempting the food.
Sabrina clasped her hands together in front of her and took a step back. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Wait.”
She stopped moving and stood there without speaking. He didn’t know why he’d asked her to stop, so he didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“Thanks for this. And for listening last night. I’ve never…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t get emotional. I’m sorry if I, uh, made you uncomfortable.”
“Mal.”
Her voice was soft, and the knot in his throat tightened.
“You’re allowed to get emotional about your brother dying. It’s healthy. Bottling it up is no good, so be thankful that you were able to let it out.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at the plate of eggs, uncertain what else to say and wondering why he’d said so much.
“Just holler if you need anything else.”
He didn’t look up as the door closed quietly behind her.