There was a part inside me that felt weird getting carried through the halls of RangeMan. And maybe it wasn't just RangeMan, but being carried, altogether. About five minutes later, he put me down again once we had managed to make it to my apartment—or the one assigned to me, anyway. It wasn't like I actually really used it for anything else than minimal storage of clothes and changing into workout wear. A realization Carlos Manoso seemed to have come to about four steps into the place. I mean, not even the bed had any bedding on it and all in all, the whole place was pretty much the same way as when I had taken it over. Maybe there was a pillow or something that hadn't been there before, but that was about it.
A duffle bag in the corner was pretty much the only indication that someone was using this space. I didn't really mind. After all, it wasn't like I was big on entertaining or having people over. And he had said to use the place as some interim-changing room. So, this was what I did.
"Homey," Carlos stated, looking around the empty place. I couldn't help but laugh at his unimpressed and confused tone. Shouldn't he, as the boss of the company, know that I was barely here and still kept my place across town? "Your bed doesn't' even have sheets on."
"I followed your advice and use it pretty much for changing for the gym, or after gym and into my work clothes. And to shower after the gym."
He just nodded, probably not able to argue my reasoning since it had been his reasoning to begin with. I watched him whip out his cellphone and spoke a moment later into it with rapid Spanish. My skills in that language were rusty to say the least-non-existing if you wanted to be honest-but even I got single words, like food and bed. Who the hell was he talking to? Shouldn't be hard to figure out though, seeing as there were not that many Spanish-speaking possibilities. There was technically only Lester, Hector, as well as Ella and Luis. I ruled out Hector right from the start because… food and bed. Lester could have been a possibility, depending on the context of the conversation, but it felt weird. Why would Carlos talk to Lester about beds? Unless he needed advice on the purchase of a new one, which I somehow doubted to be realistic. That only left Ella and/or Luis. And out of these two, Ella made the most sense. I just prayed that he didn't just order Ella to come down here and actually put clean sheets on.
Before I could think so more about this or start protesting about things, I technically didn't know. I was surprised when I watched Carlos walk through the small apartment, open a closet, and I watched him retrieve something that looked like sheets. And covers.
If Ella showed up in a moment, this wouldn't feel weird whatsoever. No, why should it? My boss finding clean linen and ordering his housekeeper to make use of them. Turns out, I was about to voice some kind of protest when I watched him make my bed.
"Tell me that this is just my imagination, please. Maybe I do have a concussion after all," I mumbled, throwing my head back onto the armrest of the small sofa I was placed on earlier.
"What is your imagination?" he asked, sounding amused while 'Hallucination Carlos Manoso' went on with his task.
"That you are in my apartment and put some clean sheets on my bed!"
"Why would that be your imagination exactly?" he asked, still sounding amused.
"Because it is…weird. Or odd, at least. Weird is maybe a too strong and negative word. And not… done. Well, not normal anyway."
"Why is that?"
"Because… it is," I argued, weakly. "And you have a housekeeper. So, how do you know how to make a bed?" Okay, maybe that was a totally dumb question. Making a bed wasn't rocket science, per se.
"I figured you would probably not want Ella down here doing this."
While he was obviously right with his assumption, I wasn't about to tell him that. "I… I can do that as well, you know. There is no need for you to do that."
"You bumped your head and could do with actually not moving around too much. Just stay where you are and let me do my thing," he commented and I couldn't help but think that I sure as hell wouldn't have a problem with letting him do his thing and weirdly enough that also would involve a bed, but definitely not making it. Quite the opposite, actually.
And what the hell was I thinking? Maybe I did have a concussion. One that made me feel like I was drunk. Was that a first sign of a concussion? Or maybe it was just my… view that helped with such thoughts. I mean… watching a really hot guy, bending and kneeling and what not and present me with his incredibly nice backside was definitely having a certain effect.
"I hate saying it, but I'm quite comfortable where I currently am," I said, pointing to myself and the sofa I was lying on. And it was true, I was comfortable, in a way. Yes, it wasn't very long, and I needed to bend a little here and there to fit, but it could be worse.
"You look comfortable," he replied, and I definitely heard the hint of sarcasm. I watched him being done with the sheet a moment later and like he was looking for something.
"Every apartment should come with a set of linen," he just mumbled, seeming like he was lost in thought and trying to solve a complicated problem.
"Isn't that what you got out of the closet?" I asked, confused. It definitely had looked like it, anyway.
"Yeah, but something's missing. There's no cover for the duvet."
"It's fine, don't worry. I'll survive," I laughed, finding it amusing how serious he looked. Like this was an offence or something. Who knew Carlos Manoso was so… domestic?
I heard a knocking and was about to get up answering when Carlos looked my way. "Don't even think about it."
He walked the few steps towards the door, opened it and I believe I made out the contours of Ella. A moment later, a delicious and amazing scent infiltrated my nostrils, and I was barely able to contain a moan. This smelled like some really amazing food she was carrying.
"Change of plans," Carlos declared, and I was confused. What change? A second later, he stood in front of me on the sofa and lifted me up as if it was not even any work whatsoever. "We'll move this party into my penthouse," he announced to no one in particular.
"I can walk, you know," I decided to state, not entirely sure where to really start. "I only bumped my head and didn't break a leg or something." Personally, it wasn't as if I didn't enjoy this proximity, but I also needed to order my hormones to stand down. And the fact that he didn't seem to have any issues whatsoever lifting me, as if I weighed as much as a feather and carry me around, was impressive and didn't help when it came to my hormones and for them to stand down.
I watched Ella walk after us, carrying a tray of what I figured was the food I had smelled, and a strange smile gracing her lips. A part of me wondered why I wasn't fighting this more. It did, after all, make no sense and I hated being…handled. Various ex-boyfriends have tried strong-arming me into several things and never succeeded. Mainly because I was a strong and independent woman and hated depending on anyone for anything. Being carried around is certainly classified as depending. And a part deep inside me wanted to argue and get me out of these arms, but most of my brain and mind more or less ordered that inner part to shut up. I figured a few moments wouldn't hurt and then I could always start arguing again. I'd give it time until we reached the elevator to start my protest, arguing this was definitely not necessary, and closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling his seductive scent that made me question my plans for protest.
When I opened my eyes again, something felt wrong. I was definitely no longer in someone's arms. There was no hallway and no elevator. I was in a bed, surrounded by a sheer mass of cushions, and this was definitely not my place. It looked more like a really fancy hotel room in one of these ridiculously expensive hotels. I was certain that I wasn't on vacation and this wasn't holiday mode, though it did feel like it.
Getting out of bed, I felt a short dizzy spell fogging my brain, but it left as quickly as it had approached and I figured I'd be good. Though, the headache I was experiencing was killing me and I was thirsty as hell.
"Ah, you're awake," I heard Bobby greet me once I left the bedroom and saw him look my way. "I was about to check on you and probably wake you up had you slept any longer."
"Where am I?" I asked, blinking my eyes a few times.
"Ranger had decided on bringing you up to his place. Something about linen and beds," Bobby explained, shaking his head, confused. "Anyway… you sort of lost consciousness while he brought you up her and I was ordered to take a look at you again. I can tell you, you are definitely not fine, as claimed earlier."
"But I feel fine," I explained, trying to ignore the whine in my voice. "I really do. Except for the headache that makes me feel like my head in being split in two. And I definitely need something to drink. It feels like I might die of thirst."
Bobby nodded and went to what looked like a kitchen, returning with a glass and a bottle of water.
"Take a seat and I'll check you out again. But the headache and thirst are classic symptoms of a concussion."
I watched him sit on a large table which was in front of a sofa. So I sat down, facing him, knowing this was something I couldn't avoid. It wasn't like I had a lot of issues. I just hated unnecessary attention. A second later, he retrieved something that looked like a pen and was directing a light into my eyes, telling me to follow the light. We did that for a few moments, before he asked me to repeat a series of words, followed by a serious of numbers.
I figured I did alright, reciting all the words and numbers correctly and feeling slightly proud and accomplished. Bobby just nodded approvingly, finishing his tests and deciding all seemed to be more or less okay.
"Take a few painkillers for the headache," he instructed, placing a small box of aspirin next to him. I heard a knocking a moment later and watched him get up, walking to large doors.
"Perfect timing," I heard Bobby say, and a moment later, when he stepped aside, I saw Lester entering. "She just woke up."
"Beautiful," Lester announced with a wide smile, walking my way. "You had us quite worried for a moment."
"I'm sorry," I replied apologetically. This was what I had tried to avoid. Attention and people being distracted from their lives and jobs because of me.
"How are you feeling?" he asked and took Bobby's earlier position on the table opposite from where I was sitting.
"Like someone used a jackhammer on my head," I joked and saw him laugh.
"Anything I need to know?" Lester asked, and I found his question odd. What was I supposed to tell him? Turns out, his question wasn't meant for me.
"Just keep her awake for a while. If she isn't sleepy, even better. If she really feels like she needs to sleep, an hour or so wouldn't be a problem. But too much sleep is actually counterproductive. I gave her a pack of aspirin she can take for the headache. Make sure she drinks plenty and otherwise just… keep her occupied for a while, with conversation or something. Or read her a book. Try to not revert to TV or anything too strenuous for the head, since that will only increase the symptoms and doesn't help the healing process."
Lester just nodded, Bobby packed up his bag and a moment later, it was just Lester and me.
"You don't have to stay," I said and saw him look at me, confused. "It's okay if you have other things to take care of."
"First of all, doctor's orders are doctor's orders and I sure as hell will abide by them. Second, Ranger would kill me if I leave you to your own devices. He's already a bit of a mess. Third, like hell, will I leave you alone? I was fighting off ten of the other guys and won the privilege of looking after you. Did I win fair and square? Nope. Does it matter? Hell no!
"What do you mean, you fought off others? What are you talking about?"
"Well, Ranger had a meeting to attend which he couldn't move another time since this has already been rescheduled a few times. He also couldn't send one of us, so it was decided who of us gets the privilege of looking after you. I won't tell you what we did to decide who gets to look after you for now, since all that matters is that I won." Another blinding smile.
Since my headache didn't seem to improve, I took another sip of the water bottle Bobby had handed me earlier, took two aspirin out of the packaging and washed them down.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"As per Bobby, it isn't like there's a large selection of things I could do. Other than not falling asleep."
"I like the idea of books," he decided, and I wasn't whether I was ready for Lester reading to me. Or anyone, for that matter.
"I sense a 'but'."
"I would have to leave you alone for a moment to go down and get the book I'm thinking about."
Craning my head in an odd angle, I looked confused at Carlos' incredibly large collection of books on one end of the room. "None of them work for you?" I asked, nodding towards the shelves that contained a lot of reading material.
"Not quiet," Lester stated, and I knew I would regret my next question, but I could always blame my concussion on not knowing better.
"What are you thinking about reading to me?"
The smile should have been the first indication of my pending regret. "50 Shades of Grey, of course."
Dear God!