Page 12 of My One and Only (Blackhawk Security #10)

C am was dreaming about Jo touching him when he heard her voice, as well. “Cam, wake up. The pizza is here. You need to eat.”

His eyes fluttered open and he saw two Jos above him, bent over the bed, her eyes deep pools of concern. “Are you awake?” she demanded.

“Sort of,” he said, struggling to sit up. His head hurt less than it had when he’d come home from the hospital that morning, but the double-vision was hanging around. He threw back the sheet and the blankets and swung his feet over the side of the bed.

“You need a hand getting out of bed?” Jo asked, no judgment in her voice.

“I’ve got this.” If he couldn’t get out of bed by himself, he was in a bad way. Gripping the top of the headboard, he pulled himself upright. The cherry headboard banged against the wall, and he winced as the noise drove a spear into his brain.

He stood for a moment, wobbling on his bare feet, until he straightened his back and took a deep breath. Blinked his eyes a few times until the two images of Jo merged into one.

“You wanna hold onto me?” she asked.

There was no judgment in her voice, but he said sharply, “No. I can walk out of my bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.”

“Okay, then,” she said, backing away. “Let’s go. Pizza’s getting cold. Nothing worse than cold pizza.”

She watched him stumble out of his room, squinting his eyes at the bright light in the hall. He pressed one palm against the wall and steadied himself as he shuffled toward the kitchen.

Once he reached the living room and didn’t have an excuse to hold onto the wall, he stopped. Drew a deep breath. Felt it jangle around in his brain, then took a step toward the kitchen.

When he stumbled again, Jo grabbed his arm. Tucked it between her arm and her body. “C’mon, tough guy,” she said, but her voice was kind. Not irritated or impatient, although, based on the way he was acting, she had every right to those feelings. “I’m hungry, and you must be, too.”

Holding him against her, they shuffled together over the floor to the kitchen table. She’d set out two plates and two glasses of water. Still closed, the pizza sat in the familiar box on the counter.

“Which is your seat?” she asked.”

“That one,” he said, nodding at the chair at the end of the table. Pain exploded through his head, and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to recede. She clutched him a little more tightly but didn’t urge him to move. When his head didn’t feel as though it would fall off his shoulders, he lurched to the table. Fell into his chair and closed his eyes.

“Here,” Jo said, pushing a glass into his hand. “Drink some water. You’re probably dehydrated, and that’s making the headache worse. You haven’t had anything to drink since you left the hospital.”

She held the glass until he had a good grip on it, then let it go. Watched as he gulped down the whole glass. “Thanks, Jo. And sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass.”

One side of her mouth curled up. “Believe me, this is nothing. Some of the things my clients have pulled have made me want to shove them out the nearest window.” She flashed him a quick smile, took his glass and refilled it. Set it on the table, then put two pieces of pizza on a plate and set it in front of him.

She served three more pieces for herself, then slid into the chair beside Cam. Watching him carefully, she nibbled on her pizza. After a few bites, she looked at it, then stared at him. “This is fabulous pizza. Where is this magical Al’s?”

“A couple of suburbs over, adjacent to a dive bar.” He smiled and took a small bite of pizza. “Nothing fancy, but for my money, it’s the best pizza in the western suburbs. They just started delivering about a month ago, thank God.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” she said, finishing her first piece and reaching for her second. “You must be starving. You probably didn’t feel like eating anything yesterday, and you’ve had nothing today.”

“Wasn’t hungry until I smelled the pizza,” he said, chewing on his piece. “Now I’m ravenous.”

“Don’t go crazy there,” she said. “I clean up vomit if I have to, but it’s not my favorite job.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I puke, I’ll clean it up.”

She snorted. “Right. The guy who can barely walk is going to get on the floor to clean up after himself. I’d pay money to see that.”

Eating pizza in the kitchen with Jo brought a rush of memories of all the times they’d shared a pizza in high school. Usually at her house. They’d hole up in her kitchen, protecting their pizza from her brothers, who were always ready to grab a piece.

He managed to eat the two pieces, then his stomach rebelled and said ‘no more’. He pushed his empty plate away and studied Jo for a moment. She was on her second plate. “How did you know to only give me a couple of pieces?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been around concussion patients. Eating is usually a problem for a day or two.”

“Aren’t you a fount of information?” he said, then wanted to slap himself. He had no reason to be snarky to Jo. She’d stayed with him all day, and she wasn’t getting paid to be his bodyguard.

But instead of snapping at him, she leaned back in her chair. Gave him a tight smile. “That’s me. A walking encyclopedia.”

“Sorry, Jo. No filter on my mouth right now.”

“That’s okay, Cam. Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I’ve spent time with people who had concussions.” She reached over and touched his hand, and the caress shot electricity all the way to his toes. And places in between.

She apparently didn’t notice, because she just kept on eating. She probably hadn’t had any lunch, he realized. She’d been here with him all day. And he was pretty sure his mom wouldn’t have thought to bring her lunch. She’d assume Cam would make sure Jo ate.

Ashamed of himself for not thinking about that, he waved his hand toward the pizza box. “At least we have leftovers for tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Plenty left to nuke tomorrow.”

After Jo ate another piece, she nodded at his plate. “You want another piece?”

“Maybe a little later. My stomach has to get used to food again.”

“Okay, you sit there for as long as you want.” She stood up and walked to the sink to refill her water glass. “You want me to put a piece on a plate and take it into the living room? You can watch TV if you like. You’re probably not ready to read yet.”

“Actually, I think I want to go back to bed. I slept all day, and I’m still exhausted.”

“Not unusual for a concussion,” Jo said. She set her glass on the counter and helped him stand up. “C’mon, I’ll get you back to bed.”

As they shuffled down the hall, she said, “You need to stop at the rest room?”

“I’m fine,” he said, his face turning red. “I have a bathroom off my bedroom. I’ll use that if I need to.”

“Okay. Give me a call if you need help.”

Like she was going to hold his dick for him? He snorted. “I think I can manage pissing in a toilet.”

“Okay.” They’d reached his room, and she paused in the doorway. “You want to use the bathroom now? Then I can help you back into bed.”

He wanted to tell her that he could take care of it himself. But he knew he was wobbly. And unless he wanted to crawl into the bathroom, he’d need her help.

“That would be great,” he said through gritted teeth.

He glanced at her in time to see her bite her lip to keep from laughing. But she didn’t look at him. Just focused on steering him around the bed and into the bathroom.

“I’ll wait outside the door,” she said.

“Gee, thanks, Nurse Ratched. I appreciate that.” He closed his eyes. Jo was being nothing but kind, and he was being an ass. He didn’t like feeling helpless, didn’t like relying on someone to take care of him, but that was no reason to take his anger out on Jo.

“Get your ass in there and take care of business, Pierce,” she said, easing him past the door, then pulling it closed behind him.

A few minutes later, after washing his hands, he held onto the sink, then the towel bar and grabbed for the doorknob. When he pulled the door open, Jo was waiting for him.

“C’mon, guy with a massive headache. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He’d rather Jo think about a different massive body part, but he was not in any condition for sexy games.

A couple minutes later, he was back in his bed. Jo headed for the door. “Sleep well,” she said as she exited his room.

“Jo?” he said, and she stopped and looked back at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He swallowed. “I mean that very sincerely.”

“You’re welcome, Cam. Get some sleep.” She walked away but didn’t close the door. Probably a bodyguard rule. No closed doors. But before he could ask her if that was true, his eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep.

The next time he woke up, sunlight poured into his room through the crack in the window curtains, and his head didn’t feel like it was about to fall off his neck. He must have slept all night.

He sat up in bed slowly, and his head didn’t pound. Definite progress.

He slid off the bed and stood up, standing for a moment to see what would happen. Nothing. So he walked slowly toward the bathroom, pleased when the movement didn’t send hammers crashing down on his head. The headache was still there, but the pain was muted. Instead of screaming at him, it whispered in his ear. ‘Take it easy. Don’t move too fast. Walk slowly.’

After he finished in the bathroom, he pulled out clean clothes and got dressed. Slid on socks and shoes, then made his way down the hall and into the living room. He was thrilled that he didn’t need to brace himself on the wall this time.

He walked more slowly than usual, but he was under his own power. Didn’t need a prop.

When he reached the living room, he saw Jo sitting on the couch, wearing what looked like flannel pajamas. Where the hell had she gotten those? She’d found a pillow, a sheet and a blanket in the hall closet and made herself a bed.

She looked all tousled and rumpled, as if she’d done more than sleep on that couch. She’d taken off her bra, because the tight points of her nipples pressed against the flannel.

He jerked his head to the side and took a deep breath. God, Jo’s tight nipples were the last thing he needed to see. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to block out the mental pictures of him and Jo, curled around each other. Him touching her breasts and those stiff nipples.

Some things couldn’t be unseen.

Clearing his throat, he focused on Jo’s eyes and struggled to sound normal. “You could have slept in one of the bedrooms,” he said, swallowing the roughness in his voice.

She’d been looking at her phone, and she jerked her head up to look at him as she slid the phone into a pocket. “Figured this was easiest last night.”

“Where’d you get the pajamas?” he asked.

“After you were asleep, I called my mom and had her bring over my stuff,” Jo said easily. “I’ll be staying here instead of at her house, and I’m not going to wear the same clothes every day.”

“Yeah? What did your mom think?” he asked.

Jo smiled. “You know my mom. She had a million questions. I told her I’d explain everything later. She wasn’t happy, and she’s going to sulk. But I have my stuff, so I’m good.”

Her gaze swept over him, and his skin shivered as if she’d actually touched him. Shocked by the way blood rushed to his groin, he shifted his feet. This reaction to her was going to make the next couple of weeks really awkward.

“Good,” he said, his voice sharp. Too hard. “You can put your stuff in the guest room. That’s where you’ll be sleeping from now on.” He gestured at the couch. “You can’t get a good night’s sleep on a couch.”

“It was a hell of a lot better than some of the places I’ve slept,” she said. Then she nodded at him. “Glad you managed to get dressed. That’s a good sign. How do you feel?”

“Almost human,” he said. “I’m going to go into the office today, after we drop Fiona off at school.”

“Your mom’s taking her to school,” Jo said. “We’ll pick her up. Get there early so I can talk to the principal about precautions to keep her safe.”

“Okay.” He glanced out the window toward his parents’ house, hoping to see Fiona in the kitchen window. “My mom loves taking Fiona to school and picking her up.”

“She’ll be doing it again before long,” Jo said, her voice easy. “I’m hoping we’ll be able to figure out pretty quickly who’s targeting you. We’ll start with that blue truck. The license plate number was obscured with mud, but we can use the details I caught to narrow it down.”

Cam tilted his head. “What did you notice?”

“The make, the model, the color. And it was fairly new, which should help.”

“How are you gonna use that information?” he asked.

“My boss Mel is an excellent hacker. And she also has contacts all over the country. She’ll be able to access the Illinois license plate database and get a list of all the trucks that match our description. Without a license plate number, it won’t tell us who the owner is, but it’ll narrow it down.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Yeah, that could be a start.”

Jo nodded. “Then I’ll call the local police departments and find out if anyone reported a stolen truck.” She shrugged. “Could be a rental, too. Or maybe stolen from someone on vacation who hasn’t realized it’s missing yet. But it’s worth a try. I’ll get Mel working on that today.”

Cam frowned. “I thought you were going to be with me?”

“I am. But I can work on that while you’re working on your own stuff.” She raised one eyebrow. “I assume you have Wi-Fi at your office?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice gruff.

“That’s all I need.” She studied him for a long moment. “You gonna shower this morning?”

“Yeah, if I’m going into the office.”

“Good. I’ll stand outside your bathroom in case you fall down.”

“I’m not going to fall, Jo.” He scowled at her. He hated that Jo was seeing him this way -- wobbly and pathetic. “I feel much better today.”

“Then why do you care that I’ll be standing outside your bathroom door?” She waited patiently for his answer.

He turned his back to her and struggled to move naturally. He didn’t want to seem weak around Jo. And that was stupid. He was weak, although not as bad as yesterday. But he didn’t want Jo to think he was helpless. And that was a damn problem.

“Sorry, Jo,” he finally said. “I don’t like being sick.”

She studied him for a long moment, then smiled. “You never did, Pierce. I could always tell when you had a cold. You were like a bear with a sore paw. Cranking at everyone.”

That was the problem with old friends. They remembered everything -- both the good and the bad. “Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll take a shower, then we’ll head into the office.”

And he’d put in a day’s work if it killed him.