Honor Bound Joey Hill (best new books to read txt) 📖

Husband? Sophia felt as if her head were wrapped in wads of tissue paper. She didn’t remember having a husband. Oh, silly girl, the nurse meant Ford. So sweet. She smiled dreamily. He’d stayed with her in the admitting area until the attendant called her name.

He’d talked and talked, trying to take her mind off her fears, not requiring an answer, letting her sit quietly as he filled the silence.

She would have gone mad if not for him.

The juice box was empty. She was still thirsty. But she wanted to get out of there. Sitting up, her stomach turned over, and her head swam. Her sweats, purse, and shoes lay in a gray plastic bin on a chair by the bed. She stared at them for the longest time, willing her stomach to settle.

The nurse returned. “You okay, hon?”

“May I have some water?”

“Sure. You can get dressed if you feel up to it.”

“Thank you.” Sophia stared at the bin of clothing, then finally swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was little more than a gurney and low to the floor so her feet rested on the linoleum. She still wore the paper booties and polka-dot hospital gown.

One breath, two, her stomach felt a little better. She didn’t want to keep Ford waiting.

He’d already wasted most of his morning.

Oh, God. He’d see her like this. She couldn’t even think about how horrible she looked.

She shouldn’t have worn any makeup because then at least it wouldn’t be smudged all over her face. There was no mirror to check herself in. She wanted Ford to see her as she’d been last night. Sexy, seductive, uninhibited. She’d lied in the car this morning. She hadn’t been embarrassed about being overheard. She loved the idea.

She just didn’t want to tell him how scared she was. He’d given her last night so that she wouldn’t be frightened. She hated that the morning light brought back all her fears, ruining the perfect weekend he’d given her.

But she was still so fucking scared. Yes, fucking scared.

The nurse brought her water. Sophia thanked her and sipped. The juice had been too sweet, unsettling her stomach.

“Need any help?”

Clutching the gown closed over her bare rear, Sophia stood gingerly, her legs a little wobbly. “I think I’m okay.”

“Call if you need me.”

Sophia smiled her thanks, and the woman left her alone. A sip of water calmed her stomach, then she was so thirsty, she gulped down almost half. Fishing through the bin, she found her underwear buried beneath her sweats.

When the nurse poked her head back between the curtains, Sophia was dressed.

“Good. Your hubby’s right outside.” Steadying Sophia by the arm, she led her to a door at the far end of the room, past the nurse’s station and several curtained patient areas.

Other people having things done to them.

Pushing open a door, the nurse handed her through. And there was Ford in a small anteroom with four chairs and a table heaped with magazines.

Oh, God. She wanted to cry, he looked so good. Dark suit, red tie, crisp white shirt, smooth-shaven jaw, and that gorgeous cleft in his chin. She felt all weepy just looking at him.

“Hey, baby.”

What if she died? What if she never saw his face again, never felt his lips on her or drew his spicy scent deep into her lungs, filling herself with him?

The nurse handed him a list of after-surgery instructions, patted her shoulder as if she were a child, and left them.

“Do you hurt?” he asked, taking her arm and leading her to the car parked right outside the door.

She was numb. Physically and mentally. “I’m okay. Just tired.” The anesthesia left her slightly groggy. She didn’t remember anything about the procedure after hitting

ninety-seven on her countdown.

“I’ll get you home in a jiffy and settled in bed. You can sleep all you want.”

He drove capably, yet her stomach pitched and rolled with every turn. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool window glass beside her. Woozy and light-headed, she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a million years.

She wasn’t even aware they’d pulled into her condo’s underground parking until he shut off the engine.

“Stay there. I’ll come round and get you.”

He was so solicitous. She was so out of it. It was too much effort even to thank him. The poor man.

In her flat, she headed straight for the bedroom and the bed. All she did was slip off her shoes and climb beneath the covers he held for her.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Lying down was worse, her head spinning as if she were drunk. She pushed to her elbow, her stomach flipping. Oh, God. “Ford?” Panic edged her voice.

He was there in a moment.

“The bathroom.”

She barely made it to the toilet, heaving the juice and water she’d drunk, searing her throat, tears leaking from her eyes, and Ford’s hand holding her hair out of the way.

He left her long enough to fetch a washcloth, heated with warm water. Dabbing her forehead, then her lips, he murmured words she didn’t quite understand. Nonsense words maybe. His tenderness brought fresh tears.

Tomorrow she’d be mortified, but today, she clung to him like a lifeline.

Ford called the doctor and got the nurse. The nausea was either a reaction to the anesthesia or dehydration. They recommended consistent sips of water, not too much at once. It was the equivalent of “take an aspirin and call me in the morning,” but after he got Sophia to drink the liquids slowly, her stomach did calm down.

He tossed his suit jacket and tie, toed off his shoes, and watched her while she slept, the TV on low volume, a news program drifting into a couple of sitcoms. It was barely nine when his eyelids started to droop. They’d been up early, not to mention the previous night’s activity. Removing the remainder of his clothes haphazardly, he crawled into bed with her.

It might be pathetic, but caring for her gave him the