“You okay, Walton?”
Stupid-ass question. Of course he isn’t okay.
“Sawyer?” The voice broke on another round of heaving.
His mother had held his head and stroked his back when he was a kid with the flu. The last time he’d been sick, his at-the-time girlfriend had fled while he puked his guts out in the bathroom. The kicker was a note left on the pillow telling him to call when he wasn’t contagious. He hadn’t bothered. Surely some middle ground was appropriate in this situation.
When the current bout of nausea ended, Walton straightened and turned. “Damn. Did you come over here to shoot me? I’d appreciate it if you would.”
“Afraid not, but I can offer you some of that pink crap if you think it might settle your stomach. We keep a bottle with the first aid kit.” He directed the flashlight beam down low.
“Nothing left in there to settle.” His godfather wiped a shaky hand across his clammy forehead.
Sawyer shifted from foot to foot then jammed his free hand in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Can I help you back to your tent?”
“Let’s give it a minute—just to be sure I’m not going to start up again.” Walton let out a deep breath. “Shit. Something sure didn’t agree with me.”
Stepping over to the nearby tent, Sawyer lifted the flap and flashed the light around the interior. Spotting a jacket, he pulled it out and brought it to the man huddled on the ground. “Here. Put this on.”
“Thanks.” Walton slipped his arms through the sleeves then pulled up the zipper. “I don’t know what the hell happened. The nausea hit me with no warning. I barely made it out of the tent in time.”
“Maybe those tequila shots you were doing with Liam and Yancy weren’t such a great idea.”
“I’m not drunk. I only had one shot plus a couple of beers with those boys, just to establish a rapport. I’m not stupid enough to overindulge in the presence of the media, for Christ’s sake.”
“You certainly sound sober.” He flashed the light beam. “You’re getting a little color back in your face. Feeling any better?”
“I am.” Planting a hand on the ground, he pushed upward.
Sawyer helped him to his feet then held on to steady him when he swayed. “Easy does it.”
“I’ve got this. One foot in front of the other, right?”
A grin slipped out. The fact that Walton could joke about the situation showed his strength of character.
“I don’t think you’re ready for a marathon, but you should make it back to your tent without a problem. Good thing, since you’re way too heavy to carry.”
“Well, thank God for that.” The man took another wavering step forward. “I don’t need anyone else waking up to snap pictures of my fat, white ass. That kind of publicity would kill any momentum I have going into the election.”
“Hey, at least you still had on your briefs. If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have stuck around. There are limits to my goodwill—even if you are my godfather.” When Sawyer held back the tent flap, Walton collapsed inside.
He rolled onto his back, one arm covering his face, and took a few shallow breaths. “Now that I’m here, let’s hope I don’t have to make another quick exit. I may pull on my pants when I work up the energy, just in case.”
“I’m sorry you’re feeling so rotten.”
“All I can figure is I ate something bad.”
Sawyer frowned. “That doesn’t make sense since we all ate the same food at lunch and dinner, and no one else is sick. At least I haven’t heard anyone else get up.”
“I always did have a sensitive stomach. Hopefully I got whatever it was out of my system.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “But maybe you should toss any leftover potato salad, just in case. I had two helpings tonight.”
“I’ll do that.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, are you going to be all right? I can stay if you want me to.”
“God, no. Go back to bed. I’m just thankful I have my own tent and didn’t wake anyone else.”
Sawyer retreated a step. “Let’s hope you’re feeling a lot better in the morning.”
“I doubt I’ll be much use paddling tomorrow.” Walton grimaced. “Not that I was particularly useful today. Devin might have been right when she told me I bit off more than I could chew with this trip.”
“She told you that?”
“The woman isn’t afraid to speak her mind.” He struggled to sit up. “I saw you sneaking a few peeks her way. If you’re inclined to make a move in that direction, you’d better watch yourself.”
Sawyer stilled with his hand on the flap and the light directed into the tent. “Oh?”
“Yep, she won’t sugarcoat what she says, and she doesn’t put up with any crap. Also, she isn’t big on forgiveness. Tends to cut her losses sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t have a problem with the direct approach, not that it matters. Doesn’t seem like your aide and I have a whole lot in common. Although I do enjoy her quick wit…and great legs.”
Walton snorted then pressed a hand to his stomach. “Oww, don’t make me laugh. Go away, now. I want to get some sleep.”
“See you in the morning.” Sawyer dropped the flap then zipped it closed before making his way back to the campfire.
A few embers still glowed in the ashes. He added a couple of dead branches, waited until they caught fire and then held his hands above the flame to warm. When rock scraped against rock followed by a muffled curse behind him, he glanced over his shoulder. Clicking on the flashlight, he caught Devin in the beam.
She covered her eyes with her hand.
“Sorry.” He turned off the light. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Sure.” She kept her voice low as she approached. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Walton was sick. He suspects food poisoning.”
“Is he okay?” She touched the sleeve of his sweatshirt then held tight. “Should I go check on him?”
“I think the worst is over. I just left him, and he was hoping to get some sleep.” When she shivered, Sawyer slipped his other arm around her to pull her closer to the fire. “Are you cold? How come you’re up at this hour?”
She leaned against him. “I had to go pee. Geez, not exactly what you want to tell a cute guy in the middle of the night. I guess I should have put a jacket on over my pajamas. It’s chilly out here.”
He grinned and tightened his arm then glanced down at her in the flickering firelight. “I don’t mind keeping you warm. Besides, you wouldn’t want to cover up those dancing penguins.”
“Laugh all you want. Penguins are what’s cool in flannel this year.”
The grin broadened. “I like you, Devin. You have a quirky sense of humor.”
“I’ve been told I’m one weird chick, so I appreciate the fact that you get me.” She covered a yawn. “If you’re sure my boss doesn’t need his hand held, I guess I should go back to bed.”
“Me, too. Uh, about that proposition you didn’t quite make earlier…”
What the hell am I doing? Asking for trouble? Shut up and go to bed. Alone. As he’d told Walton, Devin was all wrong for him.
“The offer to fill you in on the long version of how I met my boss?” Her low voice held a husky, teasing quality that sent heat