Jeannie Watt by A Difficult Woman Page A

monetary reasons.
    “All right. Whatever.” She took her bowl to the sink. “Eat as much as you like,” she said, gesturing to the Crock-Pot before she started for the door.
    “Where are you going?”
    She gave him a none-of-your-business look that Matt weathered for several seconds before she decided to reply. “Upstairs to work.”
    Of course.
     

    M IND OVER MATTER .
    Tara gritted her teeth as she prepared to paint the trim in one of the bedrooms. If she could get the trim done tonight, then she could roll paint tomorrow. Then it would be her first finished bedroom. She stood up after stirring the paint, causing her head to swim, but she refused to give in.
    I will not get sick. I will not get—
    Tara raced for the bathroom.
    No fair. First her application for a loan from a small, privately owned bank in Elko had been regretfully denied and now this. Talk about adding insult to—
    She clutched the bowl as her stomach heaved. Again. And again. Tara weakly leaned back against the old-fashioned claw-footed tub once her midsection stopped convulsing. Her eyes were damp and she felt as if she were going to cry—partly from frustration and partly because she felt so very, very rotten. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, giving mind over matter once last shot.
    It didn’t work. Her head started to throb and she let out an unconscious groan. She turned her face so that the cool painted iron of the tub was against her cheek.
    “Tara…”
    Matt. She hadn’t heard him come into the bathroom. She wondered if she’d even been conscious when he did. She had no idea how long she’d been on the bathroom floor, propped against the tub.
    “Go away,” she said weakly as her stomach started to roil again.
    She moved to the toilet, but nothing came. A few seconds later she felt Matt crouch down behind her. His hands stroked her hair away from her face, and then he held her head until the heaves were over. When they stopped, she collapsed back against him, no longer caring about her stupid pride. She just wanted this to end. His arms came around her, holding her against his chest. Her head flopped back onto his shoulder.
    “Matt…I…” She tried to wet her dry lips.
    “I know.” His hand smoothed soothingly over her hot forehead as he spoke. “You want me to leave.”
    Painfully, she shook her head, rolling it against his chest. “No,” she whispered. “I want to go downstairs.”
    “No problem,” he said. He gently helped her to her feet. She felt herself sway and swallowed dryly, fighting another wave of nausea as she waited for her head to stop spinning.
    “Can you walk?”
    “Yeah.” She took a couple small steps forward. Matt kept hold of her elbow, steadying her. They made it as far as the stairs and then Matt gave up steering and lifted her. “Where’s your room?”
    “Off the kitchen.” The trip down the stairs jostled her sore body. She turned her head into the comfort of his chest. She needed him to take her to her bed, to put her down, stop jostling her, but when he did, she suddenly felt cold.
    “Can you get undressed?’
    “Yeah,” Tara assured him weakly as she collapsed sideways and drew her knees up to protect her sore stomach. Undressed. In just a minute… She was surprised to feel him taking her shoes off, untying the laces, prying them off her feet. Socks followed. Then…nothing. She let out another painful sigh, pulled her knees tighter against her chest. And fell into a deep, fitful sleep.
     

    M ATT STOOD and stared down at Tara. She wouldn’t know or care if he helped her undress and made her more comfortable—until later. Then she’d care. She’d gone bonkers over one kiss once she had heard he supposedly had a girlfriend, and not because she had any serious feelings for him. It was because she was afraid of being someone’s plaything. It was obvious that she’d dropped her defenses before, let someone get close and then that someone had used her.
    And Matt was