“You’re as cute as a button most times. You just look a little less sexy after you’ve tried to kill yourself on a bar chair.”
“Mm, fair enough.” She hesitated, then gave him a sad look. “You don’t have to do this, Loch. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. We’re barely friends, and—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He leaned in and took her hand again. “I am bored senseless, Taylor. Please. Come and wreck my hotel room for me.”
Her shy smile made him feel like the Norse god, after all.
***
By the time they checked Taylor out of the hospital, paid her bill, and cabbed back to his hotel, it was late. Her eyes were closed and she had a pained expression on her face, so Loch carried her through the lobby and into the elevator. She was light in his arms, and though she initially protested, she was quiet by the time they got to his room. Her face was tucked against his shirt and as he walked into his room, he realized she was hurting. He crossed the suite into the bedroom and set her down gently in the bed. “Wait here,” he murmured. “I’ll get you a glass of water and your pills, and then I want you to sleep.”
She nodded, her eyes tightly closed.
He pulled the blankets over her, turned off the lights, and retrieved a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. The doctor hadn’t given her much of the medicine, stating that she wouldn’t need it after tonight. He shook out two pills and brought them into the room, then handed them to her. “Take this and go to sleep.”
She swallowed the pills, drank the water, and laid back down on the pillows. He got up to leave and she spoke. “Can you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“This is going to sound weird,” she murmured in a sleepy voice. “But can you find my phone and send Sigmund a text message?”
A weird, gnawing sort of jealousy crept through him. “Sigmund?”
She gave a small sigh and burrowed into his bed, turning on her side. “He’s a guild-mate and I was supposed to be on tonight and I don’t want him freaking out.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Loch.”
She was silent after that, and he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. He was exhausted. His suite was equipped with a full-sized couch, so he’d be fine sleeping there. Sleep, however, wasn’t on his mind just yet. He picked up Taylor’s bag and rifled through it, looking for her phone. She’d dropped it when she’d fallen, and he vaguely remembered shoving it into her pack.
Sigmund, eh? And this after she assured him she didn’t have a boyfriend?
He found the phone and swiped to unlock it. Several messages were on her screen.
Sigmund: Heard you had to leave the LAN party early. You coming home for the raid?
Sigmund: It’s past raid start-time. Where are you?
Sigmund: You’re not pulling this shit again, are you?
Sigmund: The raid needs you, Taylor. Where the hell are you?????
What a prick. His jealousy vanished when he realized it was just one of her game mates trying to find her. Of course it was. Taylor was cute and utterly distractible and a little wacky, but she didn’t strike him as a liar. She spoke her mind too freely. Reminded him of her friend Gretchen, the woman whose wedding he was going to be in. No wonder they got along so well.
He typed a message back.
HaveANiceTay: This is Taylor’s friend. She hit her head and had to go to emergency. She’s fine now but sleeping.
The reply fired back immediately.
Sigmund: She’s all right?
Sigmund: Should I play her toon?
Sigmund: We need her DR for the raid. She’s one of the tanks.
Fuck, like he knew what a toon was? Or a DR? Or a tank?
HaveANiceTay: She’s asleep. Use your best judgment.
Sigmund: K. Tell her we need her back for Tuesday’s raid for sure tho. And tell her I’ll be on tomorrow to chat.
Loch gritted his jaw. Whoever this Sigmund was, he wasn’t worried about Taylor half as much as he was worried about their raid or DR or whatever it was. He got it, he really did—she said it was like a sports match, but online. If a player didn’t show up, the others had to scramble to cover the spot.
But hell, couldn’t he have at least pretended a bit more worry for his friend? Asked how she was doing? Loch didn’t like it. He tossed the phone aside and then sat down on the couch, picking through the rest of her bag. She’d kept an extra shirt in here the other day, but it seemed that tonight all she had was her laptop, some power cords, and a few protein bars nestled next to her keys. She’d need clothes, then, and he’d need extra blankets. He dialed down at the front desk.
“Mr. delle Scogliere, sir, how can I assist you?”
“Yes, I’m having a friend stay over for a few days. I need some additional things for my room. Another bathrobe, some extra towels, some bedding.”
“Of course, sir.”
“And some shampoo and bath soaps. If you have bubble bath, that would be nice, too.” He pictured Taylor in the enormous tub surrounded by bubbles, the childish glee on her face and her gorgeous body sudsy. “Definitely bubbles.”
“I’ll send someone out to get those things for you. Anything else?”
He frowned, thinking about what she liked. “Cereal. With marshmallows.”
“Cereal, sir?”
“Yes. And some pajamas. Very soft pajamas.” She was going to spend all day in bed tomorrow if it was the last thing he did.
“What size?” He heard a pen scratching busily on the other side of the phone.