The Winner Takes It All. Alison Roberts

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      The tight ball of emotion in her belly unraveled like yarn, sending pent-up feelings rolling through her.

      She couldn’t unsnap her bra or button her jeans or be the kind of wife a man would love forever.

      Tears stung her eyes.

      Oh, no. Sarah didn’t want him to see her like this. She was independent and strong, not needy and emotional. Except, the only thing she felt like doing right now was crying.

      She blinked. She looked up. Drops still fell. She dabbed her eyes with the napkin.

      Time to get out of here.

      Without Cullen’s help.

      Using her left hand, she pushed against the table. Mantling had always been a favorite climbing move, but this took more effort than she was used to exerting. Her muscles protested. Her abdomen ached. Still she managed to stand, scooting the chair back in the process.

      Cullen looked at her. Forks clattered into the sink. He rushed to her side. “What are you doing?”

      “I don’t need to be rolled or carried.” Her voice cracked. “I can do it myself.”

      Except she couldn’t. All she wanted to do was sit. Pride kept her standing.

      “I was kidding.” He didn’t sound amused. His dark eyes looked annoyed. “Like old times.”

      She raised her chin, but that didn’t make up the difference in height. The top of her head came to his nose. She reminded herself that in every other way they were equals. And an underground city of elves lived inside Mount Shasta, too. “The old times weren’t that great.”

      He flinched. “They weren’t that bad.”

      She shrugged, hoping the gesture hid the hurt she was feeling. “I’m used to taking care of myself. I can do this.”

      But if she didn’t get moving she would be flat on her butt in about ten seconds.

      “Tomorrow—” he scooped her into his arms “—not tonight. Time to get you into your jammies and into bed.”

      Cradled against his strong, wide chest, she struggled to breathe. Her muscles tensed. Her senses reeled.

      What was happening to her?

      Sarah wanted to be strong, but she also wanted to collapse against him and forget everything in the past and what would happen in the future. But she couldn’t. Not when the feel of his heartbeat sent hers into a frenetic rhythm. Or when the musky scent of him made her want to take another sniff.

      “You don’t have to do this.” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “I’m okay.”

      Or would be once she was out of his arms and into bed.

      Alone.

      With the door locked.

      Sarah’s gaze locked on his lips. Heat exploded inside her. She looked away.

      “You’re not okay.” He carried her down the hallway. “It doesn’t take a medical degree to see you’re exhausted.”

      She opened her mouth to deny it, but couldn’t. “I’ll feel better in the morning.”

      “I’d rather you feel better now.”

      Maybe if she had a good cry or if he kissed her…

      He kicked open the bathroom door with his foot and flipped on the light with his elbow. He set her on her feet in the bathroom, keeping his hands on her. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

      Her heart beat a rapid tattoo. She leaned against the sink counter for support. “My toiletry kit is in my suitcase.”

      A coworker had packed a bag for Sarah and driven it to the hospital yesterday.

      Cullen opened a drawer and pulled out a new toothbrush. He unwrapped the plastic covering. “Use this.”

      “You have spare toothbrushes?”

      “People sack out here if they don’t want to drive home.”

      People? Or women? Sarah didn’t want to know.

      He squirted toothpaste on it. “Here you go.”

      She took the toothbrush. One minute he seemed upset at her, the next he was concerned. The flip-flopping made her dizzy. Or maybe it was the pain medication. That could explain her crying.

      “I’ll brush your teeth for you,” he said.

      She shoved the toothbrush into her mouth. “Got it.”

      “Be right back.”

      Sarah took advantage of the moment of privacy. Then after brushing her teeth, she washed her face and combed the tangles out of her hair. The effort wiped her out. She released a frustrated breath.

      Cullen stood in the doorway. “Finished?”

      Sarah nodded. He followed her to the guest room.

      A queen-size bed with a headboard made of twigs dominated the room. He’d straightened the bedding and pulled back the covers for her, something he’d done for her when he worked graveyard shifts. Her chest tightened with memories and regrets.

      A full glass of water sat on the knotty-pine nightstand. A cookie lay on a paper towel. Tears returned to her eyes. “I don’t deserve—”

      He placed his finger at her lips. “Shhh.”

      The slight touch sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t have said anything if she’d wanted to.

      Cullen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t take good care of you earlier.”

      Her heart stilled. She knew he meant today, but a part of her wished he’d meant during their marriage.

      “I’m making up for this afternoon,” he continued.

      Sarah released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her disappointment was a not-so-subtle reminder of how stupid she became around Cullen. “You’re not my manservant.”

      Mischief did the tango in his eyes. “I could be if that’s what you want.”

      She wanted…him.

      No, that was the pain medication talking. More tears filled her eyes. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

      He embraced her. “It’s going to be okay.”

      Not with her breasts pressed against his broad, muscular chest and her heart thudding in her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m all loopy.”

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