Breaking Her No-Dating Rule (6 page)

Did he have any allergies? Yes. Food? No. Medicine? Yes.

In less than a minute Anson had gotten enough info to feel safe about giving the man the inhaler. He’d also started preparing some kind of injection.

“Nate, Duncan is going to pull you back into the room. I want you to breathe out as much as you can, Ellory is going to puff the inhaler by your mouth and you breathe it in deeply.”

Anson looked between her and Duncan, making sure they knew their jobs. She liked it that he didn’t repeat himself, didn’t give them any extra instructions, just trusted them to handle things. It might not be the right call for every situation, but even she could handle an inhaler.

On the count of three, they all stepped in. While Duncan supported most of Nate’s weight, Ellory watched him breathe out, holding his gaze. When he’d gotten out as much as he could, she gave him two puffs of the inhaler as he struggled to breathe in. Anson pushed Nate’s sleeve up and injected something into the man’s triceps, which he then rubbed to disperse.

His skin was very pale, maybe even a little bit blue—another skin color she could add to the shades that terrified her, right after the shade of Chelsea’s poor toes.

Anson flipped the cap closed and handed the needle to Ellory, turned Nate’s chair and helped settle him back into it...still near the window but not with his head hanging out.

Long terrible seconds ticked as Anson listened to his chest again, coaching him through the breaths as they slowly began to come easier.

She found herself breathing deeply, trying to breathe for the poor man, and noticed Anson doing the same thing. A quick look around the room confirmed it. They all breathed slowly, deeply, in unison, five other sets of lungs trying to do the work of one who struggled to breathe. All worried. All invested. All hoping it helped somehow. She felt part of something good, like she did on her missions, and it was probably silly since all she’d done was be the gofer and puff an inhaler. Still, it felt good.

As Nate’s breathing stabilized, everyone else’s returned to normal... And that was what she had trouble letting go of. Not the drama and the fear of his fight for air but how for a few seconds all anyone had cared about was helping make Nate’s world better. It didn’t matter what kind of lifestyle these people led, they were still people. She didn’t even have to wonder what her father would’ve wanted to happen in those seconds. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if Nate had died. One less consumer, one less parasite devouring the planet while giving nothing back... She could almost hear the tirade.

Anson closed the window and came around, hand held out to Ellory. She put her hand in his, not thinking about what he wanted. It seemed like the natural thing to do. The warm squeeze of one hand, the other relieving her of the inhaler, cleared up what he wanted. Quickly, she let go of the medicine and Anson, and stepped back from the group.

“Respiratory infection?” she heard him ask Nate, who nodded. “If you’re not completely over them, it’s not a good idea to go out and exert yourself in the cold. Remember that.”

CHAPTER SIX

F
OR
THE
NEXT
half-hour Ellory watched Anson listen to the lungs of the other patient guests, and then he made his crew breathe for him as well. He gave the same speech at least four times. Prolonged exposure to severe cold could damage nose, sinus, throat, and lungs when someone was healthy, let alone when they were getting over an infection or illness that had damaged them—as had been the case with Nate. She did very little but follow, watch, and listen.

Well, that and look the man over.

She wanted to kiss him again.

The world was coming apart at the seams, winter and wind and random acts of crazy nature, someone stuck out in it, someone’s heart breaking, friends in anguish, and Ellory herself caught in a full-on lust-o-thon with the man who’d taken charge of keeping everyone alive.

The only thing saving her had been the dog. He’d joined their tour of rooms as soon as they’d stumbled over him, and now he kept her company.

She spent most of the time crouched beside the big black fuzzball, petting him and whispering to keep herself occupied. Noting the changes in the rooms. She hadn’t been in the fireplace suites in a long time. They’d been remodeled since she’d last been there. They were a blend of the new and the old, modern classy mixed with the comforting classics. But everything was secondary to the fireplaces.

Max was fascinated with her opinion on the décor and the superiority of the lobby fireplace to the ones in these rooms. They were top of the line, the logs looked every bit the real thing, and the hidden burners fed by gas and flames that wound through the wood...but it wasn’t the same.

He agreed, wood definitely was better. “You’re right. I should probably do some research and find out which one is the worst for the environment. But if we’re using a hominess scale rather than the Scoville scale—or is that just about how hot peppers are?”

Real fire and all, but it didn’t smell the same. And it didn’t talk to you, make comforting noises when the lights went out and the only thing to listen to was the wind.

Anson was saying something...talking treatment. More drugs, no doubt.

“What about the saunas?” Ellory snapped back into the conversation, standing in a room with just Anson, her buddy Max, and the last two members of his crew.

All of them looked at her.

“Steam is good for soothing the respiratory system.” She shifted to one foot, half-afraid the people in the room were going to give her hell for even suggesting something natural compared to whatever came from a pharmacy and had the backing of the FDA. “It’d bring in moisture to what’s been dried out. And we could put some therapeutic oils into the mist. Maybe some eucalyptus and rosemary...stuff that’s anti-inflammatory and good for decongestion?”

Anson smiled at her but shook his head—nicely contradicting himself. “It’s not a bad idea, the steam and oils actually sound quite good if you’ve got the quality oils for it. But moving them into the sauna might put more stress on their systems than would be beneficial. It can dehydrate and they’re all probably more than a little dehydrated as it is.” He looked at the other two. “Are we pushing liquids?”

A small conversation occurred about drinks and Ellory cut back in.

“We could just do it in a bowl and tent a towel over, a breathing treatment without getting everyone awkwardly naked together in the sauna. And I have good oils. Nothing synthetic, of course.”

The lights flickering again had everyone looking up, breath held to see if they went out for good.

“Unless the power goes out and we can’t effectively heat water,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, and suddenly felt chilled by the prospect.

The power would go out. It wasn’t even a question of whether or not it would happen, just when. With a little shiver she wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms through the coat, which just wasn’t pulling its weight heat-wise. Though to be fair, it was probably impossible to keep her body temperature as high as she was used to having it with the clothing she had to choose from.

When the lights firmed up and stayed on, Anson continued his organization. “Get your helpers to start heating more water, and go find something warmer to wear. You’re going to need it when the lights go out.”

“I’m wearing the warmest clothes I have. I promise.”

Anson rubbed his forehead, his words coming in short, clipped phrases. “Get everything set up. Water heated. Oils measured. My guys will run the treatments. Then meet me in the corridor. Be quick. I want to get this done before the power goes.”

When had he gotten cranky? With the way things had turned out with Nate and the others, she’d have expected his mood to have improved, but in the last five minutes it somehow plummeted. Her clothes worried him that much? The loss of power?

“Enough for your crew and you?”

“Yes. Not me, but the crew.”

“No one listened to your lungs,” Ellory pointed out, feeling suddenly cranky herself. He hadn’t let anyone look at his feet earlier, granted there hadn’t been any
new
frostbite damage to look at, but he also had a problem he hadn’t wanted them to see. Was he hiding something else by not letting anyone listen?

“Ellory.” He waved a hand, cutting off her train of thought as well as the lecture that had been brewing, “See to it and meet me in the corridor when you’re done.”

With that, he was gone. And Max went with him.

*

Of course, Anson just stood in the hall and waited for her, like looming was his favorite pastime. Like she wasn’t going to hurry, or maybe she was going to dilly-dally.

Ellory looked at him every time she passed, hurrying to and fro to gather the necessary ingredients for the steam bowls. Big metal bowls. Big fluffy towels. Eucalyptus, rosemary and lavender oils.

She couldn’t read his scowl, he could be worrying about the power, but no doubt there was something else—something she’d done, the way his brooding and gorgeous eyes tracked her.

She hurried through her prep, counting drops into empty bowls, left instructions for the amount of boiling water to be added, then hurried to meet him before he had an aneurysm. “So, what’s the plan?”

She could think of a good plan. A fun plan. A plan guaranteed to make him relax. A plan involving more kissing. A naked plan! But that would be a violation of her Stupid Resolution.

“To get you properly dressed,” Anson answered. Of course he couldn’t say Undressed—she’d told him about her Stupid Resolution.

“I told you, this is all I have to wear.”

“What about Mira? Doesn’t she have anything you could borrow?”

“Mira?” she said. “She’s lean, toned and svelte. Have you looked at me, Anson?”

He took her hand and tugged her toward the stairwell. “I’ve looked plenty when you were ditching the sweater and wearing that...snug T-shirt.” It sounded like he had some mix of pleasure and irritation at the memory, but at least she didn’t have to actually say she was curvy like a mountain path, he got it. Mira’s acceptable clothing wouldn’t fit her.

“Where are we going?”

“Your room.” He paused. “Where is your room?”

Bossy Man wouldn’t be put off this until he saw it with his own eyes. “Fine. But you’re not going to find anything more suitable.” She tugged him toward the stairs up. “I’m not in the usual staff rooms. I have a guest room because I came late in the season and the staff rooms were already full.”

She took the stairs at a jog, letting go of his hand so she could gather her skirts and avoid tripping and falling on her face. His shoulder was hurt. If she fell, no one was carrying her to safety.

Most of the employees being local was the reason there were so few of the staff on hand for this little adventure. The only ones here were actually living in the staff quarters—those folks stayed even when Mother Nature and Old Man Winter got into a spat.

And she was Mira’s best friend, which meant she also probably got a nicer room than she might’ve otherwise—Mira knew how her living spaces always ended up. It just didn’t bother her.

Over the last couple of hours she’d not only decided she wanted a vacation from her Stupid Resolution, she’d come to the conclusion that it was a good idea. Like eating a little bit of chocolate once in a while when dieting helped avoid going nuts one day and chewing your way through the donut counter at the bakery. Moderation was always a good thing, right?

She stopped just outside her door. If she took him in there, he’d know just how big a mess she’d become since coming home, and sex would really be off the table. “Anson, my room is messy. You could just trust me, you know.”

“I can handle messy.” He held out his free hand for her key card.

She could just say no. Put her foot down.

Make it seem like she was hiding something really nefarious in the room...

Or she could let him in and get it over with.

Since she’d come home her habits had grown out of control. But it wasn’t until this second that she realized how out of control she’d become again. Until faced with the prospect of wanting to make a good impression, of having someone look into this intimate glimpse of her life, and the judgments that she knew would follow.

If nothing else, this trip into her obsessively green existence would help her keep her Stupid Resolution. Find the bright side. Embrace optimism.

Be cranky later.

Find some company that sold environmentally friendly vibrators... That should’ve been her first purchase when she’d come up with this Stupid Resolution.

With a sigh she grabbed her badge, which pulled double duty as her room key, unlocked the door and stepped inside before turning to look at him. She stopped him following by putting her hand to his chest. “I don’t have that many clothes. I could just bring them out to you here.”

*

Anson looked her in the eye, and she looked away. Scared. Was she afraid to be alone with him in the room now? Not something Anson often experienced. People trusted him—which he could argue wasn’t the smartest option given his track record—but it still bothered him that she looked afraid. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ellory. My hand hurts, my shoulder hurts...we’re locked in here during a blizzard. It’d be extremely stupid for me to try something ugly right now.”

She nodded, but the glance over her shoulder cleared it up for him. “When I said it was messy, I meant that I’m...I’m working on a problem I have.”

“Your spirit quest?”

“Actually, no. That’s something else. I think.” She looked nervous again, then groaned. “God, how many problems do I have? I thought I’d gotten over this one! I was fine when I was away, but I come home and then I fall right back into a decades-old pattern that I hate.”

Anson reached over and flicked on the lights, illuminating the room behind her, then steered her inside.

He had gone to college, so he’d lived with slovenly people before. When someone warned him their living space was messy, he usually had an idea what to expect.

That’s not what he saw when he stepped into Ellory’s room.

There were no clothes on the floor, no empty cups lying about or any real disorder that he could see.

But it was messy.

There were trays on the floor all around the room with different kinds of tiny plants growing in them. “What are those?”

“Sprouts. Please don’t step on them,” she muttered, stepping around to the closet to wrench the door open, apparently in a hurry now to get this over with.

“I thought you didn’t know if you were going to stay? You’re already sprouting plants for...a garden?”

He followed her toward the closet, which required some careful stepping: She also had those rickety wooden drying racks located anywhere the air blew into the room from the central heating.

Her hands went up in unison, shrugging to the ceiling. “Eating. They’re mostly alfalfa sprouts. I eat them a lot. They’re great in salads and sandwiches and Mira likes them so I grow enough for both of us.”

“I see.” He wanted to ask why, the contradiction between the at times flighty but always proficient way she’d handled herself and the situation so far would’ve made him want to help even if he hadn’t been undressing her with his eyes earlier. But it was another distraction. “Clothes?”

She reached into the closet and pulled out skirt after skirt after gauzy skirt, then wadded up something that looked even sheerer than what she was wearing...and threw it behind her.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

And yet her voice seemed to say,
I have candy I’m hiding behind my back that I took without asking.

The whole thing took a comical turn and Anson found himself unable to keep from smiling at her. Definitely the type of woman every horny man wanted to play strip poker with—hot, and with an astounding lack of guile. “You know, I could reach around you and get it.”

She grunted and held her hands up in front of her, which did not deter him at all.

“You don’t need to see it.”

“Is it a nightie?” He had no business asking that, but the bright peach blush warming her golden skin made him want to tease her more. And possibly convince her to model it.

“It’s a belly-dancing outfit.”

There was no way to contain the laugh that confession pulled from him. It was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Do you have a tambourine in here too?”

“It’s good exercise, and you can do it anywhere. And it’s fun! And it doesn’t require special equipment...”

“Just outfits.”

“I made them so that doesn’t count.”

This flighty eco-princess thing was serious business to her. And the mix of sweet, eccentric and vulnerable worked for her. Ellory was definitely one of a kind—a bright spot in the storm.

“You’re the first man I have ever met who thought it was funny that I belly-dance.”

“I might change my mind if you want to belly-dance for me.” He forgot all about the reason for dragging her off to her room. Now all he could think of was: the hot blonde hippie chick was also a belly-dancer.

It was like hitting the idiot frat boy lottery.