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Authors: Teresa Noelle Roberts

Out of Control (28 page)

BOOK: Out of Control
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She stood gingerly, memories of last night’s humiliation clear in her mind. Fainting because she hadn’t eaten… How lame was that? She supposed she could have been dumber, but it would have taken actual effort. At least she hadn’t passed out in the middle of sex. She’d scared Drake badly enough as it was. If she’d keeled over midfucking, he’d have been an even worse pain in the ass than he had been, and probably with reason. Thank goodness, she seemed stable on her feet today. A good breakfast—and packing lunch and dinner this time, thank you very much—and she’d be good to go.

Coffee perking, Jen took a quick shower, washing off the psychic residue of embarrassment, annoyance and being touched by strangers, along with yesterday’s sweat and sex. Despite the rain, the day was already warm, the air sticky. In no hurry to dress, she wandered to the kitchen naked in search of caffeine and food.

Drake handed her a bowl of yogurt and strawberries, which had to be from his own stores, since she was pretty sure she had nothing more breakfast-like than oatmeal. He was dressed for work in a short-sleeved blue dress shirt and the khakis that seemed to be his summer uniform. He should have looked dorky, but he made the outfit look sexy in a Mad-Men-on-a-weekend way. His short hair was damp and sleek as a seal’s, and he seemed way too awake. She suspected he’d already gone for a run. “Nice outfit,” he said drily. “Ready for coffee?”

“Of course. When am I not ready for…” She stopped, set the bowl on the counter and stared at Drake as his presence registered through the precoffee haze. “Ready for coffee. Not ready for you.”

“No need to dress on my account.” He grinned and turned to pour a cup of coffee.

“Sunshine-yellow mug on a rainy day.” She rescued the glossy blue sunny-day mug from his hand in the nick of time and traded it for the correct one from the mug rack on the counter.

She managed not to throw something at him. He was in her kitchen before eight in the morning, and he hadn’t spent the night. That was officious and weird, but she supposed his presence made perfect sense to him. Still, she had to ask, “Why are you here?” It sounded blunt as she said it, but she left out all the cursing that could have accompanied it, and neither coffee nor yogurt flew at his head. Under the circumstances, she figured it was polite. Not that she’d waste coffee and strawberries on the world’s most aggravating really hot neighbor. Hottest really aggravating neighbor.

Who was still worried about her from last night and knew she tended to be an early riser.

And had a key so he could act on the sweet but ill-advised impulse to check up on her.

And whom she loved despite his interfering ways, and who said he loved her. Who might or might not still be her lover and dominant, depending on how the rest of the day went.

She drank some coffee while waiting for his explanation. It was too hot, scalding her tongue, but at least it kept her from saying something dumb.

“Walk-in clinic opens at eight thirty. I like you naked, but you should probably be dressed for that.”

Nailed. She’d forgotten about that.

“I figured you’d want to get in and get out and get on with your day.” He blessedly didn’t mention anything about his own work, but she was pretty sure he’d rescheduled something for her. He was usually on his way to campus by now.

She nodded as she reached for the yogurt and berries. At least if they got there early, she wouldn’t take up Drake’s entire day, which would make the whole thing less awkward. She just hoped she could convince him to drop her at the studio afterward. Riding in the rain sucked.

 

 

“What’s the verdict?” Drake rose, a copy of some arcane-sounding academic journal in one hand. “Will you live?”

“I’m not sure, after all the blood they sucked out of me.” Jen pointed to her bandaged arms. “If they’re going to take that much blood, they should find someone with a sultry Eastern European accent to draw it, and play Goth music. But they don’t seem to think it’s anything serious.”

She waited until they’d made their way through the rain to Drake’s car to elaborate. “I fainted because I didn’t eat enough yesterday and I’m overtired. Which we knew, but it was good to have it confirmed by a doctor. That is, by someone with MD after her name. You’re brilliant, and you’re a doctor, but you’re a different kind. Plus, I have a sinus infection, which explains the headache and the dizziness and why I’ve been even more tired than usual.”

“Did they prescribe anything for it?”

“Pharmaceutical samples for the win, baby!” She reached into the pocket of her cargo pants and pulled out a handful of packets. “Antibiotics and a decongestant. I admit you were right to bring me here. They probably wouldn’t have the decongestants at Planned Parenthood.”

“And all those blood tests?” Drake wasn’t looking at her as he asked, focusing on the rain-slicked road instead. But Jen still felt his piercing gray gaze.

Well, she’d been dumb enough to mention how many they’d done. Of course he’d be curious. “They think I might be anemic or deficient in some vitamin. And they checked my blood sugar, though they want me to come back sometime for a fasting test.” She glossed over just how many vitamins they were checking. And the thyroid check. And she thought there might be something else she couldn’t remember. “They also said I needed to drink more water and eat better and cut down on the coffee.” And take about a week off and rest, but since she couldn’t even consider that until after the weekend’s show, she was going to gloss over that too.

It would just worry him. Hell, it worried her, but that was one of the hazards of being a one-woman business.

“So basically we stop and get you multivitamins with iron and probably extra B&D…”

“I’m all for extra bondage, but I don’t think it’s in multivitamins. And maybe I should rest for a day before we try anything too strenuous.” She giggled, and after a second’s pause, Drake joined her.

“D and B
vitamins
,” he corrected himself. “And buy you some groceries. And a great big steak.”

He was looking at the road, but he seemed to
feel
her baleful stare because he answered quickly. “The steak’s my treat. I haven’t grilled anything for you yet. It’s about time. And if I happen to pick up extra steaks if they’re on sale or something, I’m sure you’ll help me out with those too. I like grilling.”

“As long as you don’t try to cover the rest of the groceries.” Jen did the mental math… She needed to save some toward rent—maybe he’d be able to convince her, eventually, that they were officially living together and she didn’t have to pay rent anymore, but she’d still have to chip in for her share of housing expenses. And she’d need cash on hand as a starting till on Saturday. But she did need to restock the pantry. If she shopped carefully, sticking to what was on sale and what she really needed, she’d be all right.

Drake turned into the Wegman’s parking lot. “You sure? Happy to chip in.”

“Absolutely not! I wasn’t eating because I was busy, not because I couldn’t afford food.” Which, strictly speaking, was true. She couldn’t afford to go out to eat and if she was out and about without a meal with her, she was screwed. But that was her own fault for not planning ahead. And probably, in the big picture, her own fault for not finishing her degree so she was always scrambling for money.

Luckily, she was an old hand at cheap living.

They walked into the big supermarket together and Jen did another quick calculation. Thirty dollars. She could spend thirty dollars on groceries. Make it count.

She’d ended up putting the doctor’s visit on her credit card, which hurt. She’d managed not to have debt for three years, except for what remained of the loans for the degree she didn’t finish, and she was paying off those as fast as she could. But she kept the card for emergencies, and this seemed like it qualified, if only to get Drake off her back. With luck, she’d be able to pay it off from the weekend’s profits. If not, she’d grit her teeth and dip into her tiny car fund. Her father would approve. Heck, Dad might even let her have the truck for less money if he knew she’d used some of her savings to avoid the trap of credit-card debt.

She turned Drake loose to pick out steaks. Being around the meat counter depressed her at the best of times, and she had a feeling he wasn’t the type to get whatever was on sale, but rather would pick out what he wanted and screw the price. It fit his style. He didn’t own a lot, but what he had was high quality, and while he didn’t seem to cook a lot, he bought good food. Organic coffee. Smoked cracked pepper turkey. Cheese that didn’t come shrink-wrapped from the dairy case, next to the weird rolls of plastic cookie dough. Bread from her bakery, which didn’t come cheap. Yeah, he’d go for what looked tastiest, and it was better she didn’t know how much he spent. She really ought to say no to the steak dinner, but damn, she’d started salivating as soon as he brought it up. When was the last time she’d had red meat anyway? The cheeseburger at the Ale House last week, but before that… She honestly had no idea. Her parents had served turkey last Christmas.

While Drake was indulging his inner carnivore, Jen wandered the store looking for deals. Two boxes of pasta. A big package of chicken thighs, already marked down to ninety-nine cents a pound and now an extra two dollars off because they were approaching their sell-by date. She’d freeze most of them and cook them as she needed them. A bag of dried blacks beans. They were usually cheaper at the co-op, but these were on sale. Carrots, a couple of yellow onions, and a bag of on-sale spinach. She wasn’t working at GreenStar until after the show and she needed vegetation. A can of tuna. She couldn’t bring herself to buy more than one when she knew it would eventually go on sale for ten for ten dollars, but it was good to have around. As last night proved, sometimes idiot-proof protein was a necessity in her crazy schedule.

She picked up a dozen eggs, then put them back again. Sean’s neighbor had chickens and gave Sean more eggs than he could eat. She could get a share by sending him an e-mail. She and Sean hadn’t been in the studio at the same time lately, but she sent him a quick text to see about setting up a time for an egg hand-off. She looked longingly at cheddar cheese but decided it was more than she ought to spend at the moment. After Sunday, with any luck, she could have a cheese moment. Made herself buy lackluster Florida strawberries that, on sale this week were less than half the price of the good local ones at GreenStar, and sad fruit was better than no fruit at all.

She added in her head. She’d be all right. No money for vitamins at the moment, but she could get those if the show went well. Maybe even before. They sold vitamins at the Dollar Store, didn’t they?

And after the show, she could pick up extra shifts at the bakery for a while. It hurt to be away from the studio, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do. Right now, what she had to do was keep paying her loans and pay her credit card and make sure she could get her father’s truck before autumn came, with rain and slippery leaves on the road, followed by winter. No more Ithaca winters on a bicycle. She was definitely too old for that shit.

And speaking of what a girl had to do… She made her way to the register and checked out before Drake turned up and insisted on paying. He would. It was the way he was, and it was kind of sweet. But it would be too easy to sit back and let him, grow dependent on him instead of taking care of herself, take without giving back because the only thing she had to give back was herself. That, as her mother would say, was just one step above being a whore. You had to earn your keep in this world.

With her purchases in the canvas bag she always kept in her backpack, Jen settled down on a bench by the door, texting Drake to say where she was. He appeared a few minutes later, carrying, she swore, as much as she was after buying a week’s food. Well, maybe he’d decided to stock up on a few things himself. He looked dubiously at her bag. “Did you need to stop at GreenStar too?”

“I’ll be there on Friday,” she assured him, only a minor lie. “I have eggs coming from Sean at the studio. And I got a lot of chicken.” As they dashed through the rain and got into the car, Jen was already making menu plans.

“What’s on your mind?” Drake asked. “More art?”

She sensed sarcasm in his voice, but decided to let it go, though a guy whose career focused on math so advanced it would boggle Mr. Spock had no room to talk about obsession. “Cooking. I’m going to make up some stuff I can grab and go. Trust me, I don’t want to accidentally starve myself again.” The answer seemed to satisfy him, which was good, since it was the truth.

When they got back to the house, the rain was slowing. Before long, she thought, she’d be able to face riding to the studio, and holding off for a bit would give her time to deal with food. “Thank you for your help,” she told Drake, and meant it. She hadn’t wanted to go to the doctor, and she certainly had been reluctant to spend the money but it would be good to know if she had a vitamin deficiency. If she knew what she needed to eat to feel better, she could plan accordingly. And getting a ride on this dreary day had definitely helped. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have made the trip to the clinic.

Which not only would have pissed off Drake, it would have been dumb.

She got ready to head inside with her groceries, figuring Drake would drop off his steaks and run back to campus. Instead, he came around the car and intercepted her. He leaned in, trapping her against the car. “You will make yourself a good lunch and some portable meals for later in the week.”

BOOK: Out of Control
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