Sea Rose Lane by Irene Hannon

Author:Irene Hannon
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC042040, FIC027020, Love stories
ISBN: 9781493405114
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2016-04-12T07:00:00+00:00

14

Was someone knocking on her door?

BJ forced her eyelids open and squinted against the late afternoon sun slanting across the water. She must have drifted off. Easy to do any day, stretched out in the comfortable chaise lounge on her patio—and a given if you felt as wrung out as a wet dishrag.

A definitive knock sounded from the front of the house, still muffled . . . but louder now. As if her visitor didn’t intend to leave until she responded.

Sighing, she tried to summon up the energy to stand.

Failed.

Oh, well. Whoever had come calling would give up eventually and leave her in peace.

When there were no further knocks, she let herself drift again. She’d rest a few more minutes, build up her strength a bit, then go inside and scrounge up some dinner. As Gram always used to remind her, you couldn’t expect a car to run without gas; why expect your body to function without food? And she was operating on fumes at the moment . . .

“So this is where you’re hiding.”

At the greeting from a familiar male voice, she jerked upright.

“Eric!” She struggled to sit up and swing her feet to the ground.

“Stay put.” He strode over to her, set two bags on the patio table beside the chaise lounge, and gestured to one of the empty chairs. “May I?”

“Yes . . . but you better move that several feet away, in case I’m still contagious.”

“Too late. I’ve already been exposed. I drove Luis home earlier after he could barely drag himself to his motorbike, and the germs had free rein in my car.”

“Great.” To make matters worse, they’d both been at Eleanor’s yesterday, spreading the virus around. She grabbed her cell from the table. “I need to see if Eleanor is—”

“Already done. I had the same thought, so I called her an hour ago. She’s fine. And I have a strong constitution.” He angled the chair toward her and sat.

“I do too—and look at the shape I’m in.” She ran her fingers through her hair. Had she bothered to comb out the tangled mess today? Not that she recalled. Nor had she put on a speck of makeup.

Eric appraised her, faint furrows etching his brow. “To use Eleanor’s term from yesterday, you are a little peaked. More than a little, to be honest. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I did twenty-four hours ago.”

“Why do I have a feeling that’s not saying much?”

“Because you’re a perceptive man? Actually, I am improving. My fever broke about two, and other than being wiped out, I feel okay.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not yet. I was just on the verge of scrounging up some food.”

“Then my visit is timely.” He opened the brown sack and pulled out a Diet Sprite, a lidded container, and a spoon. “The café had chicken noodle soup on the menu today. Are you up for that?”

Her stomach rumbled, and warmth flooded her cheeks. “I guess that’s your answer.”

Grinning, he removed the lid from the container and handed it over.

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