Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men, #1)(41)

Mason appeared in the hallway.

“I was just getting her nightclothes on,” I explained needlessly as I smoothed Sarah’s shirt down her torso. “She passed out. I didn’t know if that was normal.”

He knelt beside us and pressed two fingers to her throat. “Sometimes. How long has she been like this?”

“Umm.” I shook my head. “A few minutes. Three. Four.” I looked at him. He was wearing his Country Club valet uniform. “You got here fast.”

His glanced up. “You sounded pretty shaken.”

I was still shaken. “How…how long will she be like this?”

“Not much longer. So you need to keep it together, okay. If she sees you upset, she’s going to get upset too. We don’t need anything triggering another episode.” His gaze was steady but determined. “Think you can do that?”

No, absolutely not. I wanted to keep bawling my eyes out, curl into a fetal ball, and call my mommy while drinking hot cocoa and stroking my childhood blankie.

But, I nodded and stopped wringing my hands to wipe all the wetness off my cheeks. If it helped my little buddy, I’d do whatever I had to.

Mason’s eyes softened. Voice low and soothing, he said, “Good. She’ll probably need a drink when she wakes up.”

“Okay.” I began to stand. “I’ll get her some water.”

But he grasped my wrist, his grip gentle. When I paused to look at him, I was shocked by the concern in his gaze—as if he was concerned about me. “I’ll get it.” After urging me back down to return to Sarah’s side, he stood and loped down the hall.

Sarah’s lashes fluttered just as he returned.

“Hey,” Mason murmured as he rejoined us on the floor. “Welcome back, kiddo. You had a little spell there, but you’re okay now.”

He helped her sit up and propped her back against his chest as he held the cup to her mouth and tipped it just enough to give her a drink.

Smacking her hydrated lips, Sarah gazed around in a daze. When she saw me, she reached out her hand.

It took everything I had not to burst into tears all over again. Taking her fingers, I moved close until my knee bumped Mason’s. “I guess my knock-knock jokes were just too funny, huh?”

She grinned and said, “Knock-knock,” in her precious, throaty voice.

“Who’s there?” I returned, squeezing her fingers tight.

“Boo,” she answered.

Together Mason and I said, “Boo who?”

Sarah thought this was hilarious and began to cackle. She was so busy laughing she couldn’t even finish the joke to ask us why we were crying.

Every muscle in my body clenched, afraid she’d laugh herself into another seizure.

But Mason chuckled right along with her as he hefted her into his arms. “Let’s get you into bed, kiddo. We’re missing out on some valuable Harry Potter story time.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” I followed them into Sarah’s room and pulled back the blankets for Mason to place her on the mattress. After the first night I’d delivered the book to her, I hadn’t read any of the series with Sarah, because it seemed like an infringement on her and Mason’s special time. But tonight, I sat on the opposite side of her as him while he cracked open The Chamber of Secrets and started chapter seven.

Her attack must’ve worn her out, though, because she fell asleep before learning Draco was the new seeker for Slytherin. She didn’t even wish us a good night or demand hugs and kisses as she usually did. Her lashes merely fluttered closed and she was breathing heavily.

Mason’s deep, lulling voice fell quiet when he glanced at her. Then he looked at me across the bed. My chin trembled. More tears filled my eyes. The urge to fling myself into his arms and weep actually made my limbs feel stiff and sore.

Slowly, he closed the book. After setting it on the nightstand, he kissed Sarah’s forehead and slid off the mattress. I fussed over her a moment longer, making sure the blankets were secure and tucked in tight before I pressed my lips to her sweet, soft cheek.

“’Night, little buddy. I love you. So much.”

Mason was waiting for me in the hall. “Are you okay?” he asked as soon as I closed Sarah’s door behind me and turned to face him.

I snorted and wiped at my eyes before hugging myself. “I’m not the one who just had a seizure.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about her. She’s going to be fine.” Taking my hand, he started to lead me down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

But I resisted. “I need to clean up the bathroom. I think there’s still water in the tub and the towels are everywhere and...” Thank God, we’d already rinsed the soap out of Sarah’s hair before her attack had started.

“Don’t worry about that either. I’ll clean the bathroom later. Just…come and sit down for a second. You look like you need to get off your feet.”

A break did sound tempting, preferably one in the Bahamas while I was stretched out on a beach towel, watching an amazing sunset off an ocean view while a shirtless Mason served me a pi?a colada with a tiny umbrella in it, shish-kebobbing a stack of rum-soaked fruit.

I blinked at him to realize he’d ushered me into the dimly lit kitchen. Instead of a colorful sunset, I saw a stack of dirty dishes sitting by the sink. Mason was most definitely not shirtless—grr—and the cup he thrust at me was full of drab, boring ice water.