Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(89)

“Meaning, drop everything and fly to LA on a moment’s notice.”

“Exactly. I can’t imagine your little vacation is more important than your career. I’ll be in touch.” Marnie hung up.
And Ava feared this was the beginning of the end of her Wild West adventure.
Hours later Ava’s head was screaming. A thick haze settled behind her eyes, making it hard to see.
She hated to wake him, but she had no choice. “Chase?”

“Yeah.” He stirred. “I’m awake. We already there?”

“No. We’re about thirty miles out. But I can’t drive anymore.”

Chase was immediately upright. “What’s wrong?”

“Is there a metal spike sticking out of the top of my head? Because it sure feels like it.”

Now silvery fishlike lines were swimming in her peripheral vision, adding a layer of nausea to the pain and dizziness.
“Pull over,” he said sharply.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting—”

“Ava. Ease off the gas and pull over before you cause an accident. You’re driving down the middle of the damn road.”

She slowed. By the time she stopped, her stomach was in full revolt. Ava let her head fall back into the headrest and muttered, “Give me a minute and we’ll switch places.”

Chase hopped out his side and opened the driver’s side door. “Hold tight.” His hands slipped beneath her legs and he picked her up slowly, taking extra care not to jostle her.
What a sweet, attentive man. But still it caused a spark of paranoia, imagining how many times he’d done the soothe-and-calm routine with other women. Ava managed to last fifteen seconds in the passenger side before she bailed out, falling to her knees on the rocky ground and dry heaving. Her belly roiled and she felt clammy sweat plastering her hair to her head.
Chase’s hand rubbed circles on her back. “Better?”

“Some.” She pushed back on her heels.
“Let’s get you out of the heat.” He helped her back into the truck. Once they were moving, he threaded his fingers through hers. “If you feel barfy, lemme know and I’ll pull over.”

Every bump in the road sent a shaft of pain into her skull. Finally, the truck stopped.
Chase said, “Be right back.”

The truck cab heated, her whole body dripped sweat. Then blessedly cool air wafted over her. She opened her eyes and noticed they were in a motel parking lot. “Where are we?”

“A place where you can take it easy today. How often do you get migraines?”

“I don’t get migraines,” she said irritability.
“Ava. Sweetheart. I know what a migraine looks like and you need some damn—”

“I’m hot, sweaty and my brain feels like it’s in a pressure cooker, so please don’t yell at me, Chase, and give me an on-the-fly diagnosis.”

He smoothed his hands up her neck to cup her face in his palms, wiping away her tears. Those blue eyes showed concern, not anger. “Got a great opinion of me, Hollywood, if you think I’d yell at a sick woman.”

“I’m not sick.” More tears leaked out before she could stop them. “I’m upset because I lost my job.” The last word caught on a pain-filled gasp.
Chase went perfectly still. “Run that by me again?”

“My agent called when I stopped for gas. The movie shoot in Mexico has been called off.”

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted that. No wonder you’ve made yourself sick. C’mere.”

Ava didn’t hold back the sobs. Her thoughts were so muddled, she couldn’t tell him the rest. She’d probably have to leave any day and that made her sick to her stomach.