LLucy’s Revenge(Divine Creek Ranch 15)(6)

Beck sounded hoarse as she listened to him complain. “Son of a bitch! What’re you doing? That water’s cold!”

“Not really, Beck. You’re running a fever. Get in.” Patrick’s tone was steely and Lucy chuckled when she heard another splash as Beck finally got into the tub.

The grousing continued as she took care of warming the towels and changed out of her wet clothes and slipped into her robe. Somewhere in her subconscious it registered that she felt sinful slipping into nothing else but the robe with two men in her house but she didn’t dwell on it. Worry for Beck was foremost in her mind.

Sleep was the last thing on her mind as she pulled back the blankets and covers on her bed so that Patrick could put him in it when they were done. She worried about Beck’s condition and wondered why he had come to her house. It was roughly the same distance to his house, or Patrick’s.

Patrick found her in the bedroom. “I called my sister, Maizy. She said she’d keep Patrick Junior overnight for me so I can stay with you two.” His words didn’t register for a second when she turned to look at him. He’d removed his shirt. His bare chest was lightly sprinkled with blond hair that narrowed into a trail leading down to his fly. She’d heard him talking about lifting weights at home and she could see the fruits of his labor for herself. Heat kindled within her as she noted the healthy bulge at his groin. When she finally met his twinkling gaze, her cheeks were hot.

“Sorry. My shirt was soaked. I hung it in the bathroom to dry out.” Lucy had the distinct impression he wasn’t sorry at all and she thought about pointing out that his jeans were just as soaked.

Remembering what he’d just said, she replied, “I was going to ask about Patrick Junior. I hope it was no trouble for her.”

“No, we’re pretty close. When she gets married and has kids, she knows I’ll do the same for her. She loves kids. Big surprise since she’s a kindergarten teacher. Listen, Beck’s saying he wants to go home.”

Lucy shrugged nonchalantly. “I put his clothes in the washing machine. Tell him to wrap a towel around his hips and get his ass in that bed.” She pointed to her king-size bed, which was made up with red sheets and matching comforter and pillows.

“That looks like something from the Playboy mansion, Luce,” Patrick said with a snort.

“What? I like bright colors.” She held the red accent pillow with gaudy fringe to her chest to hide her nipples which had come to attention at the thought of Beck lying naked in her bed. Recalling that he was sick galvanized her into action and she retrieved the warm towels from the dryer for Patrick. Armed with the towels, he returned to the bathroom and more complaining and arguing could be heard from within.

Sympathy filled her as she listened to the muted, weak sounds of Beck’s protest as he climbed from the tub. Moments later she wasn’t surprised when she heard him getting sick, bringing up the whiskey his body was rejecting.

When the door finally opened, it was to the sound of Beck growling, “I’m not a damn baby. She’s not gonna want me taking up her bed all night. My clothes were already wet. Just go get them and let me get dressed, then take me home.”

“No,” Patrick replied firmly. Lucy appreciated his implacable tone—as long as it wasn’t directed at her. He was downright bossy when he thought he knew what was best. “You walked all this way to be at Lucy’s house. That has to be for a good reason. Now either you get your ass in that bed or I’ll wrestle you into it.”

Beck exited the bathroom with a curse and Lucy turned from what she’d been doing and got a look at him. He was pale. He looked tired—and hurt. His green eyes were bloodshot and he averted his gaze as he caught her gaping at him. He had less chest hair than Patrick, but what he had was dark blond and glistened in the dim lamp light. Her fingertips tickled with the desire to run her hands over his toned torso and under the towel that covered his lean hips and upper thighs.

“Sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to put you to all this trouble. I’m okay, just a little under the weather. If I could have my clothes back, we’ll leave.” His voice was hoarse and she could hear the pain underlying his words. He really wanted to go home but that wasn’t happening. Maybe Patrick was right and things happened the way they did for a reason.

She wanted to go to him, put her hands on his shoulders to comfort him. “Sorry, Beck. I just put them in the wash and it’ll be a while before they’re done. You need to rest.”

His shoulders slumped as he stumbled to the bed and sat on the edge. He put his hands to his temples and ran his fingers through his damp hair, his body language fairly shouting that he was in pain.