Page 68 of Kissing Her Rescuer

He shook hands with Hugh and headed toward Eliza. She dropped to one knee, he assumed to get a different shot. Cameron held onto Addie's waist as she sat on the railing of the porch. Addie's laugh carried down the street as Cameron scooped her up and twirled her around.

He'd give anything to take the doubt and worry away from Eliza's eyes each time he mentioned a future to let her be as carefree as Addie seemed. Eliza always said she didn't want to get married again. But that was due to Zach. The asshole had screwed up her vision of a good, solid marriage.

If he could get Eliza to let him move in once Hugh moved out, he could show her how different it would be. He loved her enough to wait if she needed it, but one day, she'd be his wife. Buying the house for her, and Carrie was just the beginning of his commitment to them.

22

“Mommy, my stomach hurts.” Carrie stood in the doorway to Eliza's room, her cheeks flushed, and hair matted to her forehead from sweat.

“Baby, come here.” She met her in the middle of the room and picked her daughter up. “Oh, you're burning up.” She set her on the side of the bed.

Carrie started to cry, little whimpers that Eliza hated to hear. Carrie’s eyes widened. Somehow, by instinct, she assumed, Eliza knew that look. She snatched Carrie off the bed andalmostmade it to the toilet before she got sick.

Eliza's own stomach rolled in revolt. Cameron had teased her when they were little that she was a sympathetic puker. Being a mom now, she didn't have the luxury to give in to the urge. No one was there to hold her hair back. After getting Carrie cleaned up and settled in her bed, Eliza proceeded to sanitize the entire bathroom, Carrie's room, and pretty much every solid surface her antibacterial spray could reach. With her dad's wedding in a week, she didn't want to leave anything to chance. Better to handle the stomach virus now than then, though.

She shot off a text to Dewey.

Carrie is sick. Must be a stomach bug. I'd keep away if I were you.

His reply was typical Dewey.

Be there in ten minutes, so try to hold on. Do you need anything? Drinks? A barf bag for yourself?

Great. Everyone knew how bad she reacted.

She typed out a list, including the type of electrolyte drinks Carrie would need and for him to pick up a loaf of bread for toast later.

A loud moan sounded from upstairs. She bolted up just in time to help Carrie back to the bathroom for round two. As much as she didn't want Dewey to get sick, she'd gladly take the help after the second time. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck.

Damn it if she already caught the dumb virus.

Although that sick feeling in her stomach still made her take a few deep breaths through her nose every few minutes, she wouldn't give in. She was stronger than a virus. At least until she could release Carrie to Dewey for a few minutes.

She gave Carrie a warm shower and cleaned the bathroom one more time.

The downstairs door opened. “I'm here,” Dewey called. She laid down beside Carrie on the bed. A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway. “Looks like I have two patients.”

“I’ll survive. Just a lot of throw-up to deal with.”

His lopsided grin didn't encourage her. “Princess, you look pretty rough. Pale.”

She snorted. “Nice to see you, too. I'm tired. Nothing like our baby girl, here.”

Carrie lifted her hand. “Come snuggle, Daddy.”

“Of course. Scoot,” he said, waving Eliza to the other side of the bed. He fell into the middle of the bed, between them both. He gathered Carrie up against his body.

Eliza laid her head on his shoulder. “You aresogetting sick now.”

His lips pressed against the top of her head, and then to the top of Carrie’s. “So be it.”

The soft snores of Carrie interrupted the silence. “Thank you for coming over,” Eliza whispered. “This parenting thing is nicer when there are two people to share in the throw-up.”

His body shook softly from a contained chuckle. “I’m happy to share it with you. You don't have to thank me. If I were already here, it wouldn't be a big deal.”

She’d simply meant taking turns cleaning the toilet, and he’d turned it into a conversation about moving into the house. She swallowed over the next wave of nausea that wasn’t a result of the stomach virus. He'd brought up moving in a couple times, vague references, but she'd always side-stepped the idea. She wanted her freedom. Dewey was nothing like Zach. She knew that.

Dewey was wonderful.

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