The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(16)

Thinking about the front porch made her think about the dog again. She’d been feeding him every day and was immensely relieved he hadn’t died or wandered off. Every time she went to check on the pooch, Carlise ached to bring him inside where it was warm. But he was still extremely skittish, cowering in his blanket fort when she got near him with food and water. He needed time to learn she wouldn’t hurt him, but it was stressful leaving him out in the howling wind and swirling snow.

A noise from the bed made Carlise look in that direction, and she was startled to see Riggs staring at her. He’d propped himself up on an elbow and was blinking in confusion.

“Riggs?” she asked.

“Bathroom,” he muttered.

Putting down the knife she’d been using to make herself another peanut butter sandwich—if she never ate another in her life after this, it would be too soon—Carlise quickly hurried to his side.

The second she touched him, every muscle in her body sagged in relief. His T-shirt was soaking wet, and she could see sweat glistening on his forehead, but his fever had broken. Finally.

She helped him to his feet, and they shuffled toward the bathroom. Thankful that she hadn’t had to help him pee while he was sick, she said, “I’ll be right here, outside the door, when you’re done.”

He nodded and slowly headed for the toilet.

Carlise blushed as she heard him using the bathroom. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything every person on the planet didn’t do. But somehow, listening felt too intimate.

His gaze had been a little clearer than in the last three days, but he hadn’t asked who she was or what she was doing there, so she assumed he was still a little confused.

She heard the water running and couldn’t stop the small grin from forming on her face. He was sick, still weak as hell, and yet he was washing his hands after using the bathroom. This was definitely a man she could like.

Wait. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t like him. He lived in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t any electricity in his house. He was clearly a hermit. She was from the city. She liked going out for dinner now and then. Really liked hot showers.

And Tommy would not be happy if she started dating someone else.

She couldn’t like this man—

Her inner monologue was cut short when the door opened, and she barely caught Riggs before he fell flat on his face. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and he leaned heavily on her as she led him back to the bed.

He lay back as soon as his ass hit the mattress, closing his eyes. Carlise shifted his legs and got him under the covers once more.

After getting a wet washcloth from the bathroom, she returned to the bed and sat next to him as she gently wiped his face. It couldn’t be comfortable to have all that dried sweat on his body.

Deep down, Carlise knew she wasn’t helping him solely for his comfort. This was probably her last chance to be close to him. Now that his fever had broken, he’d remember what happened and they’d go back to being two strangers. Holding her in his arms, calming when she spoke to him, relying on her for . . . well . . . everything, would end.

Things might be awkward and uncomfortable, and of course, he’d want to know what the hell she was doing out in the storm in the first place. She was dreading that conversation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to warn him about her stalker. She’d just enjoyed not having to think too much about Tommy or worry about him finding her.

Being here, with no electricity, was so . . . elemental. All the bullshit waiting for her in the real world had been taken away. Despite her worry for Riggs, she’d felt relaxed and needed for the first time in ages.

Sighing, Carlise forced herself to stand. Riggs was sleeping again, she could tell by his even breaths and his slight snoring. She probably should’ve gotten him to drink some more water before he fell asleep, but going to the bathroom had exhausted him.

She went back into the kitchen and picked up the knife to finish making a sandwich for breakfast. She’d been eating them for the last three days because it was the easiest thing to make. There were a ton of canned goods in the pantry, as well as pasta and rice, but she had no idea how to cook them without electricity. She supposed Riggs must use the fire, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it. So PB&J it was.

She’d just finished eating when she heard a strange noise. It was especially noticeable over the now-familiar sounds of the fire and the continuing storm. It was a steady beeping. Electronic.

Frowning, she glanced around the kitchen and didn’t see anything that might account for the noise.

Before she could find the source, the sound stopped.

Only to start up again a minute later.

Curious now, and determined to find where it was coming from, Carlise began hunting in earnest. It could be some sort of alarm, like a battery-operated carbon monoxide detector. The last thing she wanted to do was ignore whatever it was, especially if it meant she and Riggs could be in danger.

She followed the noise to the dresser along one of the walls and frowned when she didn’t see any kind of device sitting on top of the wood. She didn’t want to go through his things; that just didn’t seem right. Yes, she’d had to open the drawers while searching for something dry to wear, but that was different.

When the sound stopped, then started a third time, she realized she was going to have to invade his privacy.