Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

you first,” she told Everett. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to take a chance on walking in on something.

Everett was just about to end the call when he heard his sister say his name. Bringing the cell phone closer again so he could hear her, he asked, “Did you just say something?”

“I just had a last-minute thought,” she told him.

“And that is?”

His sister hesitated for a moment. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into hiring someone to look after Lila, can I?”

He knew she was just thinking of him, but he wished she would stop. He wanted to do this and his mind was made up.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Schuyler,” he said just before he terminated the call.

Putting the phone back into his pocket, he returned to Lila’s bedside.

When he touched her forehead, it seemed a little cooler to him. Taking out the thermometer he’d used earlier, he laid the strip across her forehead and watched the numbers registering.

He removed the strip and put it back into his medical bag.

“You still have a fever,” he told her. “But at least it’s a little lower. Although not low enough,” he stressed with a frown. “You can’t go out and do your angel-of-mercy bit until that fever is gone and you’re back to your old self again.”

Lila moaned.

He knew it wasn’t in response to what he’d just said, but he pretended that there was a semblance of an exchange going on between the two of them.

Lila had a small TV in her bedroom. Nothing like the one in the living room, but at least it would be something to fill the silence and distract him, he thought.

Turning on the TV, he put the volume on low, sat down in the chair next to Lila’s bed and made himself as comfortable as possible.

He knew he could make use of the guest room and lie down on the bed there, but he preferred proximity over comfort. He wanted to be there for her if Lila woke up in the middle of the night and needed him. One night in a chair wouldn’t kill him.

Besides, how many nights had he gone without sleep when he was an intern at the hospital? That certainly hadn’t done him any harm, Everett reminded himself—and neither would spending a night sitting up and keeping vigil in a chair.

Everett doubted that he would get any sleep in the guest room anyway. He knew himself. He’d be too busy straining his ears, listening for any strange noises that would indicate that Lila was awake.

No, he decided, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible in the chair. Staying in Lila’s room this way was better. He’d be right here, able to hear her make the slightest sound when she woke up. And he figured she had to wake up soon.

“I know you need your rest so I’m not going to worry about this yet. But I’d take it as a personal favor if you opened those big blue eyes of yours soon, Lila. Very soon.”

The only response he heard was the sound of Lila breathing.

Chapter Eleven

“What are you doing in my house?”

The raspy voice was hardly louder than a hoarse whisper, but it was definitely unnerving and accusatory in nature. Catching Everett off guard, it made him jump in his chair and almost caused him to knock it over.

Coming to, Everett realized that he must have finally dozed off for a few minutes.

It took him a moment longer before it hit him that it was Lila who’d asked the question.

Fully awake now, he got up and stood over Lila’s bed. Her eyes were open and she looked bewildered. Relief washed over him as he took her hand in his. “You’re awake!”

“And you didn’t answer my question,” Lila responded, annoyed with herself because she couldn’t seem to speak any louder. “What are you doing in my house?” she asked again.

Bits and pieces were slowly beginning to dawn on her. She looked down at herself. “And where are my clothes?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at Everett angrily. “You undressed me,” Lila choked out. It was not a question.

Everett wasn’t about to deny the obvious, but she needed to understand why he’d removed her clothes. “You had a high fever and you were sweating. Your clothes were soaked straight through.”

Frustration robbed her of the little voice she had so she couldn’t immediately respond. She struggled to sit up.

All Everett had to do was put his hand gently on her shoulder to keep her down, which he did. “Don’t exert yourself,” he told her.

Who the hell did he think he was? He couldn’t tell her what to do, Lila thought angrily. Her head was throbbing and she couldn’t remember anything. But one thing was obvious.

“You took off my clothes,” she accused again.

“I already explained why,” Everett told her patiently.

She couldn’t make any sense out of what he’d told her. “But we were in the restaurant,” she protested, desperately trying to piece things together. It felt as if there was a huge gaping hole in her brain and facts were just falling through it, disappearing without a trace.

Maybe if he gave her a summary of the events, Everett thought, it might calm her down.

“You passed out in the restaurant,” he told her. “I brought you to your house and carried you to your room. Your clothes were all wet, so I got you out of them and into that jersey.”

She looked down again, doing her best to focus on what she was looking at. The jersey seemed to swim in front of her eyes. “You went through my things,” she accused.

“Just in order to find something to put on you,” he answered simply. Maybe he should have let it go at that, but he couldn’t help saying, “You kept my jersey.”

She wasn’t about to get into that—and she wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t gone rummaging through her drawers, she thought angrily.

“You had no right to