Organically Yours: Sanctuary, Book Five by Abbie Zanders (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

As much as she wanted to take a shower, Tina opted not to tempt fate, even with the extra bars and bench seat she’d had installed. If she got dizzy again and fell, it could be days before anyone came looking. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face, made liberal use of some mouthwash, and switched out her soaked nightshirt for a dry one.

Her stomach rumbled and cramped, reminding her that it had been running on empty for a while. Tina slipped on a fluffy robe and shuffled out of the bedroom in search of food, her delirious brain cruelly conjuring the mouthwatering aroma of homemade chicken soup on the way.

She made it all the way into the small kitchen before she fully registered the two people sitting in her living room. She turned around slowly, certain she couldn’t have seen what she thought she had, but, yep, there they were, staring at her as if she were the oddity.

“Gram? Doc? What are you doing here?”

“I got worried when you didn’t answer your phone,” Lottie explained, “so I brought out the Buick.”

Tina gaped at her. “You drove?”

“Rest assured, the citizens of Sumneyville are safe,” Lottie said, lifting her chin with a sniff. “I used the private access road. And it wasn’t as if I could ask that lazy cow of a granddaughter-in-law of mine to do it. Good thing I did, too, because I found this young fellow skulking around.”

Tina turned her questioning gaze to Doc. “And you—what are you doing here?”

He shrugged and looked only slightly contrite. “Same thing. You didn’t respond. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She tried to process that. Lottie’s presence made sense because she and Tina looked out for each other. But Doc’s?

“Well, now that I see you’re up and moving, I should be going,” Lottie said, rising.

“You’re leaving?”

“It’s late, and you don’t need me. You’re in good hands.” Lottie’s eyes sparkled. She didn’t even try to hide her wink, waving off Doc’s offer of assistance. “I can see myself out. Take care of our girl. Just remember what I said, young man.”

“I will, ma’am,” Doc assured her.

Tina stared, half-convinced she was stuck in some bizarre, fever-induced dream as her grandmother closed the door behind her. If it were a dream, it was a realistic one.

The heavy purr of the Invicta’s engine could be heard over the low volume of the television, and the aroma of seasoned chicken, vegetables, and noodles permeated the room.

“How are you feeling?” Doc asked, moving toward her.

Mortification followed on the heels of the realization that she looked—and probably smelled—like death. “Better.”

“Think you can handle some soup?”

She nodded.

“Good. Please, sit down before you fall over, okay? I’ve got this.”

Tina did as he’d asked, sliding down into one of the two chairs that flanked the ancient table. She watched him as he moved fluidly around her tiny kitchen. Dirty-blond hair framed his masculine profile, long enough to cover the back of his neck and brush over his collared flannel when he moved. Broad shoulders tapered into a trim waist while lean hips and a firm backside flowed into slim but powerful legs.

Had she not been feeling so poorly, watching him would have stirred her desire. That didn’t mean she couldn’t silently appreciate the view.

But it was the sight of him ladling soup into a bowl that had the biggest impact because he was doing it for her. She was usually doing things for others. It’d been a long time since someone had done something just for her.

He brought the bowl over to her along with a glass of electrolyte-infused water—something he must have brought with him because she knew she hadn’t had anything like that in her fridge. After placing both in front of her, he sat down and looked at her expectantly. “Go on now. Small sips.”

She dutifully dipped a spoon into the bowl and brought it to her lips. It was every bit as delicious as it smelled. “You made this?”

He chuckled. “Me? No. Kate did.”

“I should have guessed. It’s the best chicken soup I’ve ever had.” Tina ate another spoonful. “It’s so good. She should patent the recipe.”

“She says the same thing about your peach tea.”

“I did patent it,” Tina told him in between sips, “along with about a dozen other recipes. Tell me again what you’re doing here.”

Doc sat back, his hazel eyes watchful and intense. “I told you. I was worried about you. I hadn’t heard from you since last night, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“But why?”

“Because we’re”—he paused, appearing to choose his next word carefully—“friends. Aren’t we?”

Friends. Tina rolled the word around in her mind. It felt right while at the same time feeling like an understatement.

“I suppose we are,” she agreed. “But to tell you the truth, I’m embarrassed.”

His head tilted to the side. “Why?”

“I’m not exactly looking my best, am I?”

His eyes grew more intense. “Do you think that matters to me?”

She shrugged lightly. “It does to most.”

“I’m not most.”

“Yes, that’s becoming increasingly obvious,” she said softly, tearing her eyes away from his hazel gaze when she felt herself falling into it. She cleared her throat and changed the topic. “So, you’ve met my grandmother.”

His lips curled into a smile. “That I have. She’s exactly as you described her.”

“Yeah, she’s something all right,” Tina agreed. “Did she give you the third degree?”

“And then some. She’s one hell of an interrogator.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry about that.”

“No worries. I’ve been trained in anti-interrogation techniques.” He winked, and she felt a flutter behind her rib cage.

Tina might have done some online research into the Navy SEALs to learn more about them when she first heard about the Sanctuary project. It was hard to imagine the soft-spoken, handsome man sitting across from her enduring the kind of harsh training designed to break even the strongest of men. Clearly, there was much more beneath the friendly smile and easygoing nature he showed the world.

She wanted to