Chapter Three
You Give Me Fever
It was getting no better as the weeks passed. Some evenings he would call her office to ask her a question. Just to hear her voice.
And he'd answer the phone. He being Troy. Troy, Troy, Troy. She'd come on the phone and explain she had to work late and Troy, being the gentleman he was, would bring her dinner.
Dinner. Did the rube really think that dinner was going to get him anywhere with Jordan Cavanaugh? He had bought the woman countless dinners and had never got beyond first base.
Okay, so most of those dinners you had to unwrap and didn't require a fork and spoon.
Still….it was dinner, right?
Woody's patience was coming to an end. Yes, he had told her to move on. He had planned on moving on himself.
He just didn't realize she would do it so quickly…and seem to enjoy it so much. So when Jordan came up with a new idea for Wednesday night dinners, he thought he'd explode with frustration.
"Say, Woody…feel like watching a movie after dinner?" she asked casually when she breezed in late one Wednesday afternoon with a Blockbuster bag on her arm.
"Sure….I guess."
"Good. Because I told Troy to come eat with us and then stay and watch a movie."
"Troy?" he asked…feeling his voice rise with tension.
"Yeah." She looked at him. He must not be feeling well. She'd swear he didn't like the idea. "Are you okay?"
"Just fine."
"Yeah, well anyway, I told Troy to come by. I want you to meet him and for him to meet you. After all…you're my friend and your opinion of him means a lot to me."
Woody could feel his teeth grinding to mere nubs. But did he have a choice? His doorbell was already ringing. A moment later, the ADA was in his living room, as big and as blonde as Woody had feared. A preppy football player with a law degree. Could it get any worse?
He never should have asked. Because it did.
He managed to choke down dinner as he watched those two talk and laugh…including him in the conversation, but he still felt like the odd man out. In his own house, no less.
But after dinner…when Troy reached around Jordan to get the Blockbuster bag, he kept one hand on Jordan's waist….well…only not exactly her waist. It was a little further south…but not quite on her rump.
Troy never knew how close he came to dying. If Woody could have managed to get to his service revolver, the ADA would have been dead meat.
So he watched from the couch as Jordan and Troy sat cuddled on the floor andviewed Scream 2. Great movie.
Poor company. At least on Woody's end. He had felt strange all day. And as the evening went on, he wasn't feeling any better. Finally, when Jordan stood to leave, she noticed Woody's face. It was flushed. Immediately, her hand went to his forehead. "You're warm," she exclaimed, instantly concerned.
"I haven't felt good…."
"Take your shirt off."
He rolled his eyes at her.
"You heard me…take your shirt off. I need to check your stitches. You may have an infection."
Self-consciously Woody began to unbutton his shirt as Troy looked on in amusement. "Jor…I gotta go…early day tomorrow," the lawyer said.
"Yeah, sure," she replied, her attention on Woody's incision, but she did lift her head for a quick kiss from the ADA. "Be careful."
Troy shot Woody a glance. "You, too."
Woody would have given anything to know exactly who Troy was speaking to…Jordan or him. He managed to give Troy an eat-shit-and-die grin before the lawyer left.
"You're a little infected, Wood." She had been so absorbed in her work she had overlooked the entire exchange. "Let me get these cleaned out and get you some Tylenol. She worked with him until his fever came down.
Finally, getting him to his bed and checking his temperature one last time, she tucked him in. "Will you be okay until tomorrow?" she asked. His fever had been minimal, but she still worried.
"Sure."
"Will you call me tonight if you get to feeling bad?"
He nodded.
"You promise?"
He nodded again. She got up from her spot on the side of the bed and began to walk to the door.
"Jordan?" he asked before she could leave.
"Yeah?" She turned to face him.
"Can I ask you a question?"
She nodded.
"What does Troy have that I don't?"
She rolled her eyes and left the room. She assumed it was the fever talking.
She had no idea that Woody was ready to take back his "Let's-Be-Friends Card" for good.
At least for now.
Saturday rolled around and Jordan found herself back at Woody's apartment. She busily cleaned and did laundry….and put some soup on for Woody. She had been worried about him since Wednesday, when he was running the fever.
And today he didn't seem a whole lot better. His forehead remained cool, but he was quieter. He watched her clean the apartment. This time she didn't have on the shorts and t-shirt, but a denim skirt and a tan shirt. Finally, after being uncomfortable with his silence, she asked. "Woody…what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Remember who you're talking to, Farm Boy. What's the matter?" She walked over to the couch where he was laying down.
"Have you kissed him yet?"
"Him? Who?"
"Troy."
"Oh…him."
"Well, have you?"
She lowered her eyes. "Yeah."
"So…how's the whole relationship…the whole moving ahead thing?"
Jordan squirmed. "It feels funny talking to you about my dates, Woody. And I don't kiss and tell. Besides, don't feel so bad. Four more weeks and you'll be out there in dating wonderland, too. And I hear the ladies are lined up now waiting for you now that we've decided to call it quits and be just be friends. We'll be comparing dating notes in no time." She tried to smirk at him, but failed miserably.
He was just as miserable. And he felt even worse about making her feel bad. After all, he was the one that told her they could only be friends. He was the one that said it was time for both of them to move on.
Funny…neither of them had seemed to have really moved at all.
