Mak's: The Mountain Man's Crush (BWWM) (The Wallflower's Series Book 6) Page 6

  “You are going to be easy to love, Leslie Rodriguez,” he said softly as he walked out the door.

  * * *

  Leslie sat in the same spot for a long while after he left thinking about everything he’d said. His parting line had been a killer and had set her pulse racing. She’d seen nothing but sincerity in his eyes when he’d said it. He wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot.

  His story melted her heart, and she wasn’t even going to pretend she could stay angry at him after that. She stood up and walked over to the fridge to pull out some wine. She grimaced when she caught her reflection in the kitchen mirror; she looked a mess.

  She could only imagine how much pain he’d experienced when he lost his small family. She hurt for him. She poured up a glass and sat back down. How was she going to handle this? Maks was a free-living artist who spent his time searching for his muse and she was a former librarian with a fixed routine whose favorite place was her small book-filled apartment.

  In the end, they would never work. But she couldn’t make herself leave. She now wanted to know more about Maks. No, she wouldn’t run, but she would watch him carefully. She had a feeling that he was easy to love as well.

  The next day while making a pot pie, she tried to keep her giddiness to a minimum. She was a grown ass woman. She wasn’t supposed to be mooning over some man. Yet here she was, waiting for him to arrive. When lunch time hit and he was still a no-show, she grew worried. He’d told her he would see her in the morning, and she knew he’d meant it.

  She worked on her novel, slowly laying the groundwork for the new world she wanted to build. She’d finally decided on the conflict and now she was working on what her hero would be like. By dinner time, she stopped and looked at her stacks of note cards describing the characters and scowled when she realized her hero sounded and acted a lot like Maks.

  When he didn’t show up for dinner, she got worried. She tried to talk herself out of it but lost the battle; she threw on jeans and a t-shirt and wrapped herself in a large oversized sweater. She realized immediately that she needed more than the sweater to combat the freezing temperatures. She started shivering about halfway to his cabin. From her front window his place didn’t look far away, but out here in this snow, it felt like miles.

  She knocked on the door and no one answered. She checked his garage and the truck was still there. She wondered if Maks kept the spare key in the same place Alex had told her about for the other cabin. It took her a few minutes to find the right rock and pull out the key.

  She opened the door.

  “Maks are you here?” she called out as she stepped inside. This cabin was set up similarly to hers. Once she was further in, she yelled his name and waited. She listened for any sound and jumped when she finally heard one.

  She moved toward the sound in the master bedroom and found Maks curled up inside of his comforter. She cut on the light and examined him. He was sweating through the sheets.

  “Leslie?” Maks croaked.

  “You’re burning up, Maks. How long have you been like this?” She moved around to his side table where he had a variety of flu medicine sitting out, but no plates. He probably hadn’t eaten.

  “I got up this morning and I felt bad, so I took some medicine and got back in bed. I was only going for a thirty-minute nap, but then I never got up.” He rolled over. His muscular chest was bare, and she had a feeling he was nude underneath the comforter. She knew what he was going through. She had the flu last year for the first time in her life, and it had wrecked her.

  She grabbed some Tylenol for his fever and gave him one of the water bottles on his nightstand. She watched him take it. She hoped that would help with the fever, but she knew he needed more than that to fight this.

  “I’m going to call Terrence,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  “I don’t need him,” he said, trying to sit up. She easily pushed him back down, laying a small hand across his chest. He caught it and held it there. Despite being sick, his grip was firm. She smiled at his mutinous expression. What was it about men when they got sick? It was as if they reverted back to being an8-year-old.

  She’d already decided to stay with him. When she’d been sick last year, she’d spent the first day alone. She’d called her mom but she was working in Miami. She’d never been close with her but she knew she would help her out. She was lucky. Her mom had contacted one of her doctor friends and he’d called in her flu medication and delivered it to her door. After confirming she did indeed have the flu he’d left the medication and a list of things to do with her. The next day, Alex had shown up. Somehow he’d convinced the super to open the door. It was good she’d only ever viewed him as a brother because he had definitely seen her at her worst that day.

  As soon as he’d opened the door, Ursula and Maggie had stormed in behind him. Apparently they had been knocking all morning and she had been too out of it to hear them. Between the three of them, she’d been nursed back to health. A horrible experience had turned into a memory she treasured. No, she wouldn’t leave Maks to handle this on his own.

  “You need to go, Leslie. I don’t want to get you sick.” He coughed and let her hand go to reach for a Kleenex. He cursed when he found an empty box. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed him some all while talking quietly into the phone.

  * * *

  Maks watched Leslie closely. He scowled when she laughed at something the good doctor said. He really needed to get that Terrance fellow away from her. Terrence didn’t have a past with Leslie. Also, he was a handsome doctor whom some people—granted foolish people—found charming and it seemed like Terrence had instantly recognized the type of woman Leslie was and was making it clear he was interested.

  She hung up and then gathered her things. Her brown skin had a cherry red tint to it. It must have been freezing outside, and the coat she was wearing was not adequate protection against it. He would tell her that later when his head stopped spinning. She’d pinned her thick curly hair up, and his fingers itched to ruin it. He smiled when his body responded to the images his dirty mind produced. Only this woman would make him think of sex at a time like this. She hung up and then gathered her things.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked, surprised by his own disappointment. His dark eyes followed her around the room as she opened the blinds and adjusted the lighting.

  “I’m going to run home and get some things. I’m staying here until you’re better. Terrence will be here in a couple of hours. Oh, and I know you have some weird feelings about him but make sure you thank him. He’s coming here after a 15-hour shift at the hospital.”

  “Leslie…”

  “No, save it. I’m not going to leave you here by yourself,” she said, still busy adjusting things in his room.

  “That’s fine. I want you to stay; the closer you are the better.” She blushed bright red at the overt desire in his eyes.

  “But wear my coat when you head back. That sweater isn’t going to keep you warm.” After giving his command, he collapsed back against the pillows. She opened her mouth to argue but he sent her a look that told her it was useless. With a scowl, she grabbed his coat and disappeared out of the room.

  He smiled and thanked the universe for giving him the flu. Today he’d seen none of the hesitation that he’d witnessed in her earlier when it came to dealing with him. It was as if his revelations had destroyed part of the wall she’d built around herself, and if he was honest, it felt good to talk about it again.

  But he knew she was reserved by nature. He’d observed her a lot over the last few months. She made it easy by going out of her way to ignore him. She was a thinker, an analyzer. She would have to decide in her head that he would be a good fit before she gave him anything more.

  He needed her. He knew that now. He’d learned how fleeting life was and he wouldn’t let this chance slip through his hands. As she said, God had decided to bless him again. Leslie had no idea how serious he was when it came to pursuing her. He’d a
ccepted his downfall as a single man easily when he’d held her limp body in his arms after she’d been shot.

  There was no way he would let her go now.

  * * *

  Leslie walked back to his place with three big bags. She’d struggled when she walked back because of their heaviness but there was no way in hell she was going to make two trips. She sat the bags down in the living room and laughed at how out of breath she was.

  She definitely needed to start back on heavy cardio. She took one of the bags to the kitchen and started unloading it. She opened Maks’ fridge. Between them they had all of the key ingredients for her mom’s chicken soup. Well, almost all of them; they were missing paprika, but she could still make it work.

  She made two glasses of water and a small glass of Emergen-C. She walked back into his room and found him gently snoring once again, wrapped up in his comforter. She checked his head. She didn’t know if his fever was going down or if it was wishful thinking on her part. She pulled the comforter off of him a little bit to let his body breathe.

  Her breath caught at how beautiful he was. She ignored the warning bells in her head that said being this close to him was like playing with fire. She forced herself to move away and went back to the kitchen.

  It took an hour to boil the chicken down to a suitable broth. She’d just added the seasonings and the fresh vegetables when she heard a knock on the door. She looked through the blinds and smiled when she saw Terrence.

  She let him in. He slid off a thick lambskin coat and smiled. He was a very handsome man with deep-set dimples and dark brown skin. He had a light beard. He had a muscular frame as well but his was leaner than Maks’. She wondered how many women down at the hospital were in love with him. She had a feeling that the number was in the hundreds.

  “How’s the patient?” he asked, looking at his phone.

  “He had a fever, but I think it’s going down now thanks to the Tylenol. Are you hungry?”

  “No, after a long shift I like to sleep on an empty stomach. I would like a cup of that coffee, though,” he said, pointing to the pot.

  “You can drink coffee and still go to sleep?” If she had any caffeine after 4pm she had trouble falling asleep; maybe she was getting old.

  “Yeah, you drink enough of the stuff and you become immune.” He stifled a yawn as he picked up his bag.

  “How do you like it?” she asked, pulling out a mug.

  “Black with lots of sugar,” he said, smiling and showing off his sexy dimples once again.

  “Got it. A cup of sugar with a dash of coffee,” she said with a smile.

  “Exactly,” he said as he disappeared down the hall. It took him fifteen minutes to determine Maks had the flu. He gave him some medication and came back out.

  “That man really doesn’t like me,” Terrence said as he downed the cup of coffee. Leslie wondered how in the hell he drank it so quickly when it was that hot.

  “I’m sorry he is acting like that, it’s probably because he’s so sick,” she explained, making herself a bowl of the chicken soup. She would take one up to Maks after Terrence left.

  “No, it’s not because he’s sick, it’s because he doesn’t want me near you. What is the deal with you guys anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.” His dark brown eyes watched her closely as if her answer really mattered to him.

  Leslie thought about the question for a second. How did she explain their relationship? She was definitely starting to see Maks in a different light, even if there wasn’t a real future there.

  “We have a complicated relationship. But we’re not together like that.”

  “Not together, yet?” He packed his bag but his eyes remained focused on her.

  “I don’t know. I’m just as confused as you are, probably. I can say that he’s at the very least my friend,” she answered honestly.

  “Okay, then that gives me hope. If a woman like you can give that man a chance, then I got a shot.” He handed her a package. “I want you to start this tonight.” She looked down at the package and smiled. She’d seen this bottle before.

  “It’s Tamiflu; it will act as a preventive. Feel free to call me, anytime,” he said with a wink. She waved as he got in his truck and disappeared into the snow-covered night. She took the pills with a glass of ice water.

  She devoured her small bowl of soup quickly and made Maks a bowl as well. She walked into his room and was surprised to see him walking back from the bathroom. Luckily, he’d put on a pair of boxers. She tried not to stare but geez, this man was fine. He was all hard muscle.

  He collapsed onto the bed and pulled the cover over himself. He gave her a weak smile.

  “Is that mine?” he asked, pointing to the soup. She nodded, and he grimaced.

  “I don’t think I can eat, Leslie. I’ll have some in the morning. Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “No, you’re going to eat even if I have to feed you myself.” She leaned forward and checked his head. Her words cleared his head more than any of the medicine he’d taken so far. He pulled himself up and leaned back. His exhausted face cleared almost instantly.

  “If you feed me, I’ll eat.” He ran one hand though his dark brown hair and waited for her decision.

  “Maks…” she started to explain but stopped when he started coughing again. She didn’t know if he’d orchestrated it to gain her pity, but it was obvious that either way, he was in pain.

  “You leave it with me, and I promise you I’m going right back to sleep,” he explained.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. She was the one who’d taken on the responsibility of taking care of him. She slowly mixed the soup, and his eyes followed her movements.

  A different kind of hunger lurked in the gray depths. She fed him slowly, and every scoop was delivered with precision; this fact was notable because of the uncontrollable slight shaking of her hand.

  How could feeding someone be this intimate? His eyes never left hers as she moved. She’d made him a small bowl, so the process lasted no more than ten minutes, but she knew something had changed in their relationship. They didn’t speak as she gathered his dishes and his empty water bottles. When she was almost out the door, he spoke.

  “Are you staying the night?” he asked huskily. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair as he waited for her answer.

  “Yeah, I was going to sleep on the couch, at least for tonight,” she admitted. She wondered at this point if she needed to. He looked like he was going to be fine, but she also didn’t want to examine her desire to stay too closely.

  “I have two other rooms in the cabin, one is my studio and the other is a guest room, take that one. Don’t sleep on the couch,” he commanded. “Thank you, Leslie. For staying, for this…hell, for everything. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded her head but didn’t say anything else. She ran downstairs and put the dishes in the sink. She stood at the sink trying to decipher her reaction to him. She could literally feel the heat building between them. If he hadn’t been so wrecked from the flu, she could have easily found herself on her back.

  Absently, she rubbed the place where she’d been shot. She needed to take some Aleve. She raked her hands through her hair. She forced herself to breathe slowly until she got her heartbeat under control. For a girl who hadn’t dated in over two years, so much male interest was really starting to make her head spin. She cleaned the kitchen quickly.

  She double checked the doors and made sure the cabin was secure before she grabbed her bag. She checked on Maks once more before turning to find a room to sleep in. It wasn’t too late to get some more writing in. With her emotions all over the place, she had some good material for her romance novel.

  She opened one door and nearly dropped her bag at the large unfinished painting sitting on an easel. She walked up to it slowly. So far she’d only seen landscapes from him. But this one was different. It was a painting of her. She looked beautiful; was this how he saw her? He’d painted her in a field
of flowers. He had every detail right, from the richness of her caramel skin to the wildness of her curly black hair. He’d somehow made them resemble leaves. She looked like she was a part of the field. He’d even added the small beauty mark on her right cheek.

  The painting could have been a photograph for how detailed it was. She took a deep breath and forced herself to move from the room. This artwork would have taken time to do, which meant his feelings for her hadn’t spawned overnight.

  She shook her head in wonder and sent a small prayer out to the universe. Maks was a man that was hard to hate even when she had a reason to, but now he would be impossible to ignore. Boy oh boy, she was in trouble.

  Maks opened his eyes slowly, thankful that the pounding inside of his skull had stopped. He looked over at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was five in the morning. After Dr. Mitchell, or Terrance, as Leslie often called him, had stopped by, his health had started to steadily improve. He finally felt like he could lift his head without needing to hurl.

  He could briefly recall Leslie visiting to check on him throughout the night. The woman took her job seriously. She would be a wonderful mother. He got out of bed and visited the bathroom before grabbing some clothes to head downstairs.

  He paused at the entrance to his studio. It was open. He sighed heavily; he never left it open. So this meant that Leslie must have come in, probably when she was searching for the guest room. She couldn’t have missed the painting of her. He wondered what she’d thought of it. He knew some people didn’t like being painted. He couldn’t explain to her that he’d had no other choice.

  A month ago he’d had a vivid dream about her, one that had left him rock hard and in pain. He’d needed somewhere to put that energy. He’d decided to paint the part where she still had clothes on. Every time he’d visited his brother at his office he’d taken the time to observe her, and slowly, the painting was born.