Forged in Steele (KGI #7)(67)

Still wearing the towel on her head—she didn’t have it in her to comb out her hair yet—she wandered out of Steele’s bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Steele was standing at the island where the stovetop was inlaid and was tending to three different pots.

She sniffed appreciatively as she slid onto one of the bar stools at the U-shaped island.

“Smells wonderful. What’s cooking?”

“Spaghetti,” he replied. “Sorry it’s nothing fancier. I haven’t been home much in the last while and the groceries are in sore need of restocking. Hope you don’t mind deer burger in your spaghetti. It was all I had in the freezer.”

Her stomach rumbled. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. Anything that smells that good has to be delicious. And to be honest, I got really tired of all the fancy gourmet stuff that Caldwell always had prepared. I had no idea what I was eating half the time. I’m afraid my palate isn’t that refined. Give me a burger and some fries and I’m in heaven.”

Steele grinned. “You and I will get along just fine then. I can cook, but I’m no cordon bleu.”

A few minutes later, he drained the pasta and then ladled out the thick spaghetti sauce onto two beds of pasta.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked. “I quick-brewed some iced tea, but I wasn’t sure if you liked yours sweetened or not. To me, it isn’t tea unless it’s sweet tea, but if you’re not from the South, you aren’t likely to share that opinion. I also have a variety of sodas and bottled water.”

“Tea is fine,” she said. “Admittedly, the tea I drink is usually hot, but I’m not opposed to iced tea at all.”

“I’ll get you some tea when I restock the groceries. Make me a list of the kinds you like. I can’t guarantee my little grocery store will have a huge variety, but I can always order it for you.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said softly.

From the way he was talking, he seemed to take it for granted that she’d be staying longer than a few days. But then she’d have a better idea of whether he still felt hospitable after she dropped the bomb.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet,” he said dryly.

“Then I’m glad I’m getting to see that sweet side of you. It’s definitely there!”

He slid her plate across the bar and then set his next to hers. He filled two glasses with ice, poured the tea and then walked around to sit beside her.

She stared down at the steaming plate of spaghetti and her stomach promptly rebelled. She sat completely still, willing the nausea to go away. But the longer she sat, the worse it got. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she inhaled sharply, realizing too late her mistake.

“Maren?”

Steele’s sharp inquiry reached her ears, but she was already bolting from the bar, stumbling toward the bathroom before she completely lost it.

She burst inside Steele’s bathroom, instinctively heading back where she’d just been a few minutes before. She’d just reached the toilet when the first dry heave hit her, the towel on her head tumbling to the floor.

She nearly fell with the force of the retch. Her stomach lurched painfully as it tried to offer up something, but there wasn’t anything there to get out.

And then Steele was there, holding her up and preventing her from collapsing. He anchored her to his side and bent over with her, holding her hair back from her face. He didn’t say anything, thank God. He just stood there with her, patient and gentle as her body convulsed over and over.

When her heaves finally calmed, he loosened his hold but remained there, seemingly uncertain of what he should do next. She was horrified that this had happened in front of him. Her humiliation knew no bounds.

“Can you stay right here for just a second? I’ll get you a cool cloth for your face, but I don’t want you to fall. Can you sit, or do you still need to vomit?”

She weakly shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Sorry.”

He cursed under his breath. “Don’t be sorry. Here, let me close the lid and you sit.”

He kept hold of her while he shut the toilet lid, and then he helped her ease down onto it. When he was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall over, he backed away to the sink and quickly dampened a washcloth.

He returned and pressed it to her forehead. “Take deep breaths through your nose. Just take it easy and don’t rush anything. When you feel like you can stand, I’ll help you to the couch in the living room, unless you’d prefer to lie down on the bed for a while.”

She nodded, closing her eyes while he gently wiped her face and mouth. Though nothing had come up, her mouth felt like yuck, and she really wanted something to drink, but she was afraid it would only come right back up.

“Better?” he asked softly.

She nodded again and then opened her eyes to look up at him.

“What the hell is going on, Maren? Are you sick? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

She sighed. “Nothing that five more months won’t cure.”

He gave her a puzzled look.

“I’m pregnant, Steele,” she said. “This wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you, but that’s what’s wrong. I’m pregnant and I’m still in the everything-makes-me-queasy stage.”