Matching Mr. Right (Rocky Mountain Matchmaker Series Book 1) (13 page)

“I don’t need new curtains.” Those damned designer curtains currently hanging in his living room had cost him a fortune. “Tell me what the favor is.”

“Those curtains are hideous, Nick. I’ve been telling you that since you built that monstrosity. Why you went and had it decorated professionally when I could have helped you for free is beyond me. So, I’ll use my key and either see you in the morning or I won’t. Feel better. Love you, goodbye.”

“Love you too.” Nick tossed his phone aside. Maybe she was right. His curtains were sort of ugly.

He plodded upstairs and found a blanket and then grabbed a pillow off his bed. After dumping everything on the couch, he powered down his laptop. His head hurt too much to be productive anyway. Maybe he’d watch some television. But first he should probably eat something. He hadn’t had anything since lunch.

He glanced at the kitchen and sighed. Chicken noodle soup was the only thing that sounded good, but he didn’t have any.

He could call his mom back. She’d bring him soup, but then she’d want to stay and fuss over him.

He’d just skip dinner.

He turned on the television and flipped through the channels. After settling on whatever was playing on ESPN, he got up and put more logs on the fire. His teeth chattered he was so cold.

When his phone rang again he hoped it was his mom so he could ask her to bring him some soup after all. He probably did have the flu.

The screen showed Shelby’s name, so he poked the little green button and said, “It’s early. I thought you were supposed to be wooing Mr. Wonderful tonight at his big welcome-home bash. Was that a bust?”

“Nope, we have a date on Sunday. We’re going to the game. But why does your voice sound so funny? Been screaming at the peons at work?”

“I think I have the flu.”

“Or, maybe Lisa cast a voodoo spell on you?”

He laughed. “No, and you owe me because I probably caught the bug at
your
restaurant yesterday. I’ll take payment in chicken soup or I’ll have to sue. Your choice.”

“I thought you never got sick, tough guy.”

“The clock’s ticking. What’s it going to be? The soup or my lawyer?”

“Because I was smart enough to get a flu shot, my immune system is impervious to your nasty germs, so you’re in luck. I’ll run by the café. Do you own a thermometer?”

“No. But I don’t need that, just soup. And maybe an éclair.”

“I have to stop by the drugstore anyway, so I’ll get you some supplies. I have your address from your application, so what’s this month’s secret gate code to gain entrance to your exclusive, snooty enclave?”

“Your family developed this subdivision, Shelby.”

“Not my family, me. It was my project. And what’s your point?”

He’d nearly forgotten Shelby had a master’s degree in business and used to work for her uncle. Somehow he couldn’t picture her being happy doing anything other than what she did now. It must’ve taken a lot of courage to leave and pursue her dreams.

“You should probably thank me for all that commission you must’ve made when I wrote that big check for the lot. The code’s pound four-two-three.”

“Jo’ll thank you. It’s what I used to invest in her café. See you in a bit.”

“’Kay.” He closed his dry, burning eyes, laid his aching head onto the back of the coach, and smiled. Shelby hadn’t hesitated for a moment to come to his rescue. And if she wanted to stay and fuss over him for a while, he might just have to let her.

CHAPTER TEN

“Chester thought taking a sick day off from school would be fun. But it was icky and boring.”

Chester’s Sick Day

Shelby kicked Nick’s front door with her foot as she juggled the bags of sickroom supplies in her arms.

When the huge wooden door swung open, Nick stood before her in gray sweats, thick socks, his hair standing on end, and he still looked cute. It was downright ridiculous.

His eyebrows spiked. “Damn, Shelby. I bet Greg didn’t stand a chance once he saw you in that.”

Okay, that answered that question. But now she was even more confused and needed his help. “All part of the plan.”

She passed by him and then tilted her head in wonder. She’d never guess his furnishings would be so elegant. He must’ve hired an interior decorator. “Nice. But I hate the curtains.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” Nick crawled onto a barstool at the granite countertop in the kitchen and frowned as she unloaded her bags. “What’s all this crap?”

“I’ve got nighttime liquid, daytime liquid, Popsicles, and ibuprofen.” She dug into the next bag. “Sports drinks to stay hydrated, and what all ailing men need,
Sports Illustrated
. Swimsuit edition.”

Nick grunted and laid his forehead on top of his folded arms. “Just soup, Shelby!”

“That too, Mr. Grouchy. I’ll nuke it for you.”

After she put the soup into the stainless steel microwave, she opened the new digital thermometer. Yanking a handful of his thick hair, she lifted his head up. When he opened his mouth to protest, she stuck it in.

“Geez, Nurse Ratched. Take it easy, will you?” he mumbled around the thermometer.

Shelby laughed as she pulled out the éclairs and the cookies she’d thrown in at the last minute. When she opened his refrigerator to put the éclairs away, she gasped. “Seriously, Nick? It’s like a college dorm room fridge. How many different kinds of leftover fast-food containers can we stuff into an oversized Subzero?” She opened a box and gagged at the green fuzzy stuff inside.

She gathered boxes in her arms to throw them away when he barked, “Leave it. I’ll do that later.”

“Fine.” She tossed them all back in.

When the thermometer beeped, she grabbed it before he could. “Holy crap, Nick. It’s a hundred and three! You really are sick.” Poor baby. She regretted being so abrupt with him earlier. “Have you taken anything?”

He shivered as he laid his head back down. “No.”

“We need to get that fever down.” She laid the bowl of soup in front of him and unwrapped the sourdough rolls she’d brought along. Then she measured out the medicine and poured him a glass of water. “Take these first . . . please.”

He obeyed without complaint for a change and then slowly started in on his soup. After a few bites he laid his spoon down. “It’s too hot. Maybe I want something cold?”

“That’s what I figured.” She grabbed one of the strawberry Popsicles she’d brought. “Try this.”

When he placed it into his mouth, he sighed. “That’s good.”

While he ate, she climbed up next to him at the bar. “In my experience, there are two kinds of sick men. A) the ones who tell you to go away because they hate to be coddled and B) the ones who tell you to go away because they hate to be coddled but don’t really mean it. Which are you?”

Nick finished off his Popsicle and frowned. “Somewhere between A and B.”

“Right. No simple A or B for you.” She hopped down and put the leftover soup away, then wiped down the counters. “Want me to stay and watch a movie with you?”

“I guess. But no chick flicks.”

“I think the Romance Channel is running a marathon tonight.” Not really, but it was too perfect a teasing opportunity to pass up.

“Dammit, Shelby!” He moved to the living room and flopped onto the huge leather couch. “I can’t take one of those tonight.”

Dammit Shelby
seemed to be his favorite moniker for her. Strangely, it was growing on her.

“Like you could take one of those movies any night? You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.”

“Proud of it.”

Shaking her head, she grabbed the remote, slipped off her boots and settled in on the matching loveseat. They were big, oversized couches. Man-sized. So big and deep, Shelby’s feet didn’t touch the floor when she sat up, so she tucked them under her and settled back into the butter-soft cushions. As she flipped through the channels, Nick wrapped himself up in his blanket, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on his shivering.

She searched for something they’d both like because she felt sorry for him. He had to be miserable with that high a fever.

When his shaking became more violent, he snapped, “I need your body heat!”

Her finger froze over the remote. “And just how would I provide that particular service, Your Highness?”

“Come over here and lay beside me.”

When she hesitated while trying to decide if that was a guy move to get his hands on her, he said, “I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three. It’s not like I’m going to molest you!”

He had a point. But he didn’t have to yell about it.

She moved to his couch and slipped under the blanket. With her back to his chest she tried to maintain a respectful distance, but he laid his hand on her stomach and pulled her against his big body. It wasn’t a hardship spooning with Nick, he was built. But he wasn’t Greg, so she should probably try not to enjoy it so much.

To distract herself, she flipped through the channels as poor Nick shivered violently behind her. After a few minutes, his shivers quieted and he sighed.

Her head was tucked under his on a pillow that held his yummy scent, and she was all warm and cozy, so when
Raiders of The Lost Ark
showed up on the guide she asked, “How about—”

“Yup.”

Tossing the remote on his coffee table, she settled in, grinning in anticipation. It was one of her favorite movies.

While the beginning credits rolled, she remembered why she’d called him in the first place. It might even make it easier to ask because he was too sick to tease her—much. “Nick, my outfit tonight screams ‘please sleep with me’ doesn’t it?”

He grunted. “Greg still just wants to play football with you?”

“Sort of. What do you think I should do to make it clear I want more?”

“Back up. What did you guys talk about at the party? Did he ask if you’re seeing anyone?”

She rewound their conversation in her mind. “He mentioned he knew I was between men. And that at first he thought you and I were together. He was glad we weren’t because he didn’t like you because you reminded him of my last boyfriend.”

Nick’s body stiffened behind her. “He’s an ass, Shelby. Find someone else. You could have any guy you want.”

“But I think I want this one,” she whispered.

He blew out a long breath. “Kiss him. You’re really good at it.”

She turned her head to see his face. He had to be kidding, right? “Don’t tease Nick, I’m serious.”

“I’m not teasing. You are.” He tightened his hold on her as he shivered again. “Now can we please just watch the movie? All this talking is making me wish I’d told you I was a solid type A patient so I could have some peace and quiet.”

“Fine.” Shelby snuggled a little closer and smiled. A guy like Nick thought she was a good kisser? Wow.

After a few minutes of reliving their last kiss in his Porsche, she whispered, “You’re a good kisser too, Nick.”

His hand found one of hers, then he wove their fingers together. “If I didn’t feel like I’d just been hit by a dump truck, I’d show you what else I’m good at. You want a rain check?”

“Even when sick, men are such dogs. Shut up and watch the movie.”

When his low chuckle reverberated off her back, she grinned and tucked their entwined hands under her chin. Why was it so nice to hold Nick’s hand? She’d never felt that comforting connection with anyone before.

So
did
she want a rain check?

The way he kissed, and with that smoking hot body, she could only imagine how good he’d be in bed. But sex was all he wanted, so it wasn’t worth thinking about.

But it was tough not to. As she watched the familiar movie, her lids grew heavy so she closed her eyes.

After what seemed like a short ten-minute nap, Shelby blinked her eyes open. A different movie played on the big screen. She reached above her head and felt Nick’s forehead. Still burning up.

Her phone showed enough time had passed so he could take more medicine. She’d dose him up with the nighttime stuff to knock him out and then be on her way.

When she tried to slip out of his embrace, his arms clamped tightly around her. “Stay!”

“I’m not a dog you can order around, Nick.”

“I feel like crap. Please?”

She knew the feeling. When she’d gotten sick after moving in with her aunt and uncle, the only one who ever checked on her was the cook. She’d laid in bed feeling miserable all by herself. “Okay. But I need to borrow a T-shirt and some sweats. I’m not sleeping in my jeans.” Or her push up bra. It was doing its job a little too well and killing her.

“My bedroom dresser, bottom right-hand drawer.”

“Fine, but just know I have a tendency to snoop.”

Shelby went to the kitchen to get Nick’s medicine along with a sports drink. She texted Jo and told her she wouldn’t be home, and then after badgering Nick until he drank every bit of the sports drink, she climbed the stairs.

At the top she turned to the right and opened a door. It wasn’t the master bedroom, but one a princess could call home. It held a pink canopy bed and shelves stuffed with books and toys. Must be Emily’s room when she spent the night.

Too cute.

She turned out the light, closed the door, and then walked the opposite direction down a long hallway. When she opened the door at the end and crossed the threshold, she smiled. Talk about nice. The master bedroom had rich hunter-green walls, beautiful cherry wood furniture, a huge bed—of course—and sage-colored carpet. And because she had to pee, she checked out his bathroom. It was equally large, with a deep jet tub and a shower that could hold ten people.

The closet was one any woman would envy and was scary-neat and organized. All his shoes stood in straight lines on shelves, and his neatly folded ties were grouped by color. His formal wear and suits were on one wall and his casual clothes on the other. Geez, she’d never known a man could be so tidy. But not when it came to his fridge, evidently.

She found some sweats and a beer T-shirt and then changed into them. Even after pulling the drawstrings on the sweats as tight as she could, she still had to hold them up at the waist while she snooped in his bedside drawers. Was Nick the naughty-tools-and-gadgets type?