Phone clenched tightly in her hand, Beth weighed her options before coming to what she felt was the best decision.
Beth sent Ozzy a text saying she'd hurt her back and couldn't easily move and asked him to work her shift for her. It was a short one-only four hours-and hopefully, it wouldn't interfere with his plans for the night. She felt the pause in his response, but he agreed. Another text came, asking if she needed anything or wanted him to stop by later and check on her.
Beth swallowed down a sick sensation and told him thanks, but she was going to rest and wouldn't need anything. It was a partial truth, at least. Only the knowledge that she was protecting Harrison's identity helped salvage the guilt as it slashed down her back like sharp, menacing nails.
She was falsifying information to one man to keep another's secret.
Harrison waited in the large entryway, disengaging from the shadows as she entered the house. "Get everything taken care of?"
"I found someone to fill in for me, yes." Beth didn't meet his eyes, feeling unnaturally shy about staying over.
After a tense-filled minute, Harrison said, "There are clothes and toiletries in the bathroom I showed you earlier. Take your time."
When she reached the bathroom, her eyes went to the cleaning spray, sitting where Harrison had left it. The disease couldn't be spread by using the same restroom as someone with it. There were all kinds of ways it could not be spread that fear made people forget-made her forget. Beth shoved the bottle back to its spot in the cupboard and went about filling the tub. Lavender scented bubble bath was set out for her, and she smiled as she sniffed it, adding it to the water.
The room turned into a steam room as heat rose from the hot water, and Beth lingered in the relaxing bubble bath until the water turned cold and her fingers and toes were wrinkled. She was tired, and her lower back was sore from where she hit it as she landed. Beth fought to keep her eyes open as she dressed in velvety smooth gray and black plaid pajamas. There was a packaged red toothbrush sitting on the counter for her to use before bed. She carefully brushed her hair with the comb she found in a drawer, wiping a circle in the mirror to view her blurry face. With Beth as exhausted as she was, she imagined Harrison had to be doubly so.
Tracking down the sounds of movement, Beth walked through the hallway and veered to the right. Harrison was at the kitchen counter, clad in another set of clothes, his copper hair damp and curling up in spots. His back was to her as he prepared something to eat. She smelled the distinct scent of tuna fish and her stomach contracted with hunger, making a rude rumble in the quiet. Beth set her wet clothes on the edge of the counter.
"Hungry?"
"Yes," she told him. There was no point in denying it.
"Do you like tuna fish? Onions, lettuce, pickles, tomatoes?"
"I'm not picky. I like everything."
Harrison glanced over his shoulder, the smallest of smiles evident.
She didn't look away, not able to break eye contact. Harrison did, his gaze dropping to her garments and quickly sliding away. Beth took a deep breath, telling herself that whatever she was feeling for Harrison, she needed to restrain it. Sometimes when she looked at him, all she saw was the disease. Other times all she saw was the man. Both were detrimental, but for different reasons.
"Avocados?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Beets?"
"Of course."
Harrison met her eyes. "Liver."
Beth brushed hair from her eyes and shook her head, fighting a smile. "You got me. No to the liver."
"I'm the same," he said. "No to the liver."
Without asking, she opened the refrigerator and perused its contents. It was surprisingly well-stocked with fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and yogurt. She chose orange juice for her, looking over the refrigerator door toward Harrison. "What do you want to drink?"
"Whatever you're having is fine."
"Glasses?" She put the container of orange juice on the counter. Following the direction of Harrison's finger, she found a set of clear glasses. She poured orange juice in each and refrigerated the container.
Beth took her damp clothes from the counter and carried them to the laundry room. The dryer was already running, and unsure what she was to do with hers, she stood in the center of the room and looked around. She turned, and not expecting to see Harrison, gasped as her pulse tripped.
Lightning scorched the pupils of his eyes as they came to hers. In the semi-dark, Harrison's countenance turned dangerous. Graceful, lupine. His hungry gaze stripped away her clothes and looked at her naked flesh. It was an illusion of the night, but her body felt the singe of his gaze upon her like handprints. There were at least half a dozen feet from him to her, but it felt like nothing separated them. Nothing but all the ugliness of the world.
"You can hang your clothes on the rack over there," he said in a voice like sandpaper.
"Okay," she answered faintly. Beth's heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears. "Thanks."
Harrison showed her his back and stepped away, into the dimly lit kitchen.
With careful movements, she set her jeans, shirt, and socks on a bar of the clothes rack, noticing the shakiness of her hands. Beth let her head fall forward and closed her eyes, her hair curtaining either side of her face. Her emotions and thoughts were a mess, going one way while fighting to go another. She felt sick, but it wasn't an entirely bad feeling. That look he'd given her, she couldn't get that look out of her head.
The scent of Harrison's clothes was embedded in her skin, and she welcomed it. Beth was afraid, and it wasn't because of Harrison-she was afraid of her response to him. He was compromised, and he was as exquisite as the deadliest flower. Intriguing to look at, detrimental to touch.
She strolled into the kitchen, pretending whatever just happened hadn't happened. "I'll leave first thing in the morning, after your driveway is plowed. I, uh, have to, um-I'll be back in a minute."
Beth didn't look at him. She didn't need to, to know where he was-she felt him. The room smelled of him, was alive with his warmth, shrunken with his presence. Beth hurried her footsteps, needing space from Harrison in order to properly breathe. She was overheated, nervous and edgy. She didn't trust herself around him, something she'd never had to struggle with before. Beth felt out of control and wild.
"Beth."
The pull of his voice, more an entreaty than a command, halted her. She waited, her back to him.
"Whatever romanticisms or fantasies your imaginative mind is coming up with, stop them all. You'll only get hurt if you don't."
She pirouetted like a ballerina in slow motion.
Harrison stood near the sink, his jaw as taut as wire. It looked as if he physically fought an unseen foe, one who attacked him even as his eyes delved into hers. Was he fearful of her? Beth's eyes narrowed. No, not of her, but of his reaction to her. She understood that all too well.
"What did you just say?" she rasped, disbelief adding a breathless quality to the words.
"You're attracted to the forbidden element of our association." Harrison moved closer. "I'm your employer. I'm … unwell." His eyes drilled into hers. "All reasons to stay away, and all obstacles that can be viewed as a challenge to some."
"And you're crazy," she scoffed, even as her body hummed with awareness. She wasn't a daredevil, or someone who chased danger. If she was attracted to any part of him, it would be his strength, or his mind. Not the state of his health or what it represented.
Fire crackled within the depths of his eyes and half of his mouth crooked in a sardonic grin. "Not yet."
"I'm not like that." Her voice sounded weak. Beth cleared her throat, trying to speak firmly and failing again. "I wouldn't … wouldn't do that. That isn't-no."
"Good." Harrison stopped walking when there was an arm's length between them. Close enough to touch, close enough to kiss. "I must have imagined the look I thought I saw in your eyes."
Beth moved around him and grabbed one of the two plates housing a tuna fish sandwich, pretending like her skin wasn't flushed or that her hands didn't quiver. She sat down on a barstool at the island, taking a large bite of the sandwich. It was good; a lemon garlic taste smoothing the tuna fish flavor.
Swallowing, she said, "I must have imagined the same look I thought I saw in your eyes."
AFTER THEY HAD eaten their light meal in silence, Beth helped clean up the mess and was shown a spare bedroom down the hall from Harrison's. It was as far away as he could put her from his bedroom while having her remain on the same floor. The room held a single bed and a nightstand. Nothing flashy; everything was neutral-toned and plain. She spent the hours until she fell asleep reading the book about the boy who, motherless and alone, grew into a man great enough to rule countries. It was a story of unparalleled drive, showing how obstacles had to be taken down from within before they could be overcome on the outside.