Page 58 of Axe Backwards
On speakerphone, Willa was calm and authoritative, assuring us that nothing was gravely wrong. Since Tess was breathing normally and had no troubling rashes, it really looked as though it was a standard, if not severe, ear infection.
“Cool her down,” Willa instructed. “Take off her clothes, turn the heat down, that sort of thing.”
I immediately laid her on the couch and unsnapped her pajamas, wincing as she cried out.
“Can I give her more medicine?” Noah asked.
“No. Stick to the schedule I gave you. Between doses, keep her cool and comfortable and make sure she’s drinking liquids.”
Once I was cuddling her again, she continued to cry. I paced like we did every night, rubbing circles on her back. Her little body felt so hot.
“A cool bath or shower can help bring her fever down. Not cold, just slightly cooler than normal. Do you want me to come over?”
Willa was a few years younger than me, and I didn’t know her well, but it was obvious she was devoted to her patients and this town. I didn’t know many doctors these days who would make a middle-of-the-night house call for an ear infection.
“Nah. It’s okay. Vic is here. We’ll manage.”
“Keep me posted.”
We spent the next hour trying to keep Tess comfortable, counting down the minutes until we could give her another dose of Tylenol. But as time went on and she fussed, Noah got continuously more restless.
“Here, hold her.” He held the diaper-clad baby out to me.
Gently, I took her. The moment I made contact with her bare skin, my stomach sank. Her body was on fire and the lines on her tiny face were etched with discomfort.
With a grunt, he stripped off his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“You heard Willa. A shower. Cool, not cold.”
I froze, entranced by his large, masculine torso. The sleeve of ink on his left arm snaked up his bicep and continued over his shoulder, meeting the designs on his chest and back. I could spend days decoding each one, studying how they wrapped around his thick muscles.
He was stripping. Right in front of me. Alarm bells rang in my head, startling me back to reality, and I averted my eyes.
He spun and strode away without another word. Still holding the feverish baby, I followed him into the tiny, pink-tiled bathroom, so much like my own downstairs.
Maybe it was the tight quarters, or maybe I was coming down with an illness as well, but either way, I was suddenly feeling hot.
Sweaty and twitchy too. Unsure of where to look or how to act.
Where did Noah leave that thermometer? Did I have a fever?
Noah’s bare chest was too close. He was muscular and strong, with dark chest hair that tapered down to the waistband of the jeans he was now unbuttoning.
My heart stuttered. Christ on a cracker.Was he getting completely naked? Should I leave?
I peeked over at the door, ready to dart through it, only to remember that I was holding the baby. I couldn’t leave.
Tess cried out, and I patted her back, swaying from side to side while Noah, who was now only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, adjusted the temperature of the water.
Unable to tear my eyes away, I studied his tattoos more closely. There was a fireman’s helmet, an axe, and a copse of trees, all woven together with intricate script and symbols I didn’t recognize. Interspersed throughout it all were tiny reddish-purple flowers.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching into the shower to check the water.
“Mm-hmm.” I forced a smile, pretending I wasn’t captivated by the sight of his bare chest and back.
In reality, my mouth had gone dry and my palms had begun to sweat.
