Page 31 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I know I should go for the good stuff first, the foods that will help my immune system fight this, but I can’t stop myself from reaching for the croissant and coffee. And damn, am I glad I do. They’re both delicious. I’m gonna need to know where he got these from.

Once I’ve eaten, I wiggle myself deeper under the blanket, and with a home makeover show playing on my TV, I drift in and out of sleep for hours, only waking when my temperature either soars or dips, or I need the bathroom.

I’m dozing off again when my cell starts ringing. With a groan, I search the couch for the irritating noise, but I don’t open my eyes to check the caller ID before swiping to connect, assuming it’s Bea.

“I’m still alive,” I croak.

When a deep chuckle hits my ear, my eyes fly open.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Killer?”

“The one and only, baby.”

“Fucking hell,” I breathe as I relax back into the couch.

“Christ, you really know how to hit a guy’s ego. Most women would be beside themselves if I opened the door to them in the middle of the night, delivered them breakfast the next morning, and called to check in.”

I shake my head. “I’m not most women,” I confirm.

Silence stretches between us.

“You still there?” I eventually ask.

“Yeah, sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” I confess.

“Have you eaten and taken more meds?”

“Yes, Dr. Keller.”

“You know, I prefer a simple ‘sir.’”

I snort a laugh that rips at my tender throat and has me falling into a full-blown coughing fit.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” I wheeze.

“Truly, I am.”

“I can hear you smirking.”

“You cannot hear a smirk,” he argues.

“Sure can. If a hockey player is talking to a woman, you can bet your bottom dollar there’s a cocky smirk playing on his lips.”

“Uh…”

I give myself a mental fist bump for making him speechless. Something tells me that doesn’t happen very often.

“So you’re doing okay, then?” he asks, a little awkwardly. I can only assume this is a very different kind of interaction from what he’s used to having with women.

“Great. Best day of my life,” I deadpan. “How did you get my number?”

“Um…Rett gave it to me. Don’t be mad at him,” he adds in a rush. “He didn’t hand it over easily.”