Peace by Shelley Shepard Gray

“Chris, you’re feverish. I fear you’re becoming sick.”
    â€œNot sick. Injured.”
    Trying to support him better—which was a difficult process since he had to weigh at least seventy pounds more than she did—she climbed up next to him on the bed.
    Those light blue eyes that had crept into her dreams stared into hers. “Beth, you shouldn’t be here,” he rasped. “Not with me like this.”
    No, she definitely should not. She should not be in bed with him—not even if she was fully clothed and he was half dressed. Not even if he was injured and feverish and she was trying to heal his hurts.
    Fact was, she knew she should not be harboring a man in Frannie’s bed-and-breakfast. She shouldn’t be trying to nurse him at all. She should have called for help, contacted a real doctor.
    But most of all, she shouldn’t be thinking about him the way she was. No matter how much she tried to think of him differently, Chris kept creeping in her head. And heart.
    And those feelings were as dangerous to her as any gun or knife. Being around him made her think of things she’d never considered before she met him. He made her think of a world outside Marion. A world where her heart beat a little faster and her pulse raced.
    Chris made her question her life and the choices she’d made.
    Worse, when he wasn’t around, she felt empty.
    But he was forbidden to her, and that was how it should be.
    She needed him to be nothing more than a temporary guest in an otherwise outlandish situation. A mere glitch in her rather quiet existence. Anything else would only bring her pain.
    â€œBeth?” he said again. “I can tell you’re worried. I know you’re afraid. Tell me, what can I do to make this better?”
    Quickly, she scooted off the mattress, just as if he’d reached out to touch her.
    But of course he hadn’t.
    She backed up and cautioned herself to remember that they were nothing to each other. Nothing more than practical strangers. Two folks who could never act on what was between them, and more important, never should.
    At the moment, she was the strong one, and because of that, she needed to stay strong.
    Looking him directly in the eyes, she said, “You are sick and I am helping you. That is all.” She cleared her throat. “Now, see if you can help me make you more comfortable. We need to get you covered up so you can rest.”
    He complied with her attempts to rearrange him, slowly slipping under the cotton sheet as obediently as if he were a young boy instead of a mature man.
    But when she attempted to slip a quilt over him, he pushed it away. “I’m too hot for that, Beth.”
    â€œIt’s your fever that’s talking.”
    â€œSo? I’m still hot.”
    â€œThe house is chilly. You need to stay covered. Listen to me, I know best.”
    Almost belligerently, he shoved the blankets off his body, forcing her to stare at his bare torso, with those strange tattoos on his chest and arms. At the way he was dressed only in faded jeans.
    Her face began to heat because she couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. “Chris—”
    â€œI’ll be fine.”
    â€œYou’re acting childish. I’m trying to help you.”
    â€œIs that right?” He scooted up against the headboard, twisted his hips so he was facing her. “Then pull up your chair and sit with me. Don’t make me lie here alone.”
    â€œRight now?”
    â€œYeah. Unless you’re too afraid,” he added, his voice sounding almost like a challenge. “If you’re afraid of me, then you should leave.” With that, he shifted again, so he was lying flat on his back. A second later, he closed his eyes.
    He almost looked as if he’d forgotten all about her, but she knew better, of course.
    Lord? she prayed silently. What do I do? What should I do?
    As the clock ticked on his bedside table, she