Page 34 of Unexpected Love
“I woke up to give Charlie her meds and realized my throat is killing me. I think I’ve got it.”
He sounds miserable. But years of living with four brothers has probably made me less sympathetic to the man flu.
“So take the magic combo and go back to bed,” I say, covering a yawn.
Through both the wall and the phone, I hear Charlie squeal, and it hits me. “Oh, you can’t deal with her this morning, can you?”
“Not so much.”
I sigh and tell him I’m on my way. I don’t know why I feel compelled to rescue this man every time he calls. But I do.
I blame hormones and the fact that he looks ridiculously good without a shirt on.
By the time I gather Charlie and all of her paraphernalia up to take them to day care and call to verify that Nancy agrees that Charlie has been fever-free for over twenty-four hours, is feeling better, and is okay to return, Cal is stretched out on his sofa. Looking like a wet dream.
A wet dream with spots all around his mouth.
I snicker, enjoying this hilarious turn of events. Poor guy. He’s had it rough. But also, it’s hella funny to see a big, strong man bested by a toddler.
I haul Charlie to day care for him and go about my day. He’s called in some help on the construction project, so I swing in and see the progress. Cal texts me in between his naps. I try to be reassuring and patient in my response, even though my eyes roll every time his name pops up.
When I return in the evening, he’s texted me forty-five times, each message growing whinier. He’s really not a goodpatient.
“Hi, we’re home,” I call, letting Charlie bolt through the door, waddling her way through the apartment to hug his legs.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He gives her an affectionate pat on the head with the tips of his fingers. She’s clambering for him, arms outstretched for him to pick her up. But instead, he drops to a squat with a grimace and pulls her into his chest, without actually touching her with his hands.
“I sure needed that hug. I’m not feeling so great, Belle.”
He’s freshly showered, wearing a tight white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweats. He closes his eyes as he hugs the little girl. It’s adorable. He’s adorable. I don’t want to be moved by them, but something about the way he’s so tender with this child that was thrust on him is sexy as hell.
He stands, and Charlie runs to a nearby basket of toys. His soft gaze follows her and allows me further inspection of this intriguing man. He steps gingerly over to his chair and eases into it like he hurts all over. He tilts his head back, and that’s when I catch the progress of the tiny blisters all around his mouth.
“Hi. That’s a gnarly case of herpes you’ve got.”
He raises a brow at me, one side of his mouth downturned in disapproval. “Not funny.” That deep blue gaze disappears as he closes his eyes and rests his head on the back of the chair. “This sucks. It hurts.” He holds out his palms, which are also spotted. “They’re on my hands and feet too.”
And now I feel bad for dismissing his obvious discomfort.
I make sure Charlie is happy as Cal kicks his feet up and reclines the chair. It’s obvious he’s in no shape to take care of a toddler, so I putter around his kitchen and makesome grilled cheese sandwiches for us and open a can of soup for him.
When it becomes obvious that he’s deep into his nap, I take Charlie through her bedtime routine and get her down for the night. And then I sneak to my apartment for my Kindle and pajamas. It really would be so much better if our apartments had doors that were next to each other rather than opening on opposite sides of the building. I spot the shared balcony, wishing like anything that the stupid divider wasn’t there. It would make this coming and going so much easier.
By the time I sneak back into his apartment, I’m winded from rushing. But I didn’t want to leave for too long in case Charlie woke up. Making a little nest for myself on his couch, I settle in with a book.
Sometime later, I wake as my Kindle is taken from my hands.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Cal whispers.
“That’s okay. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty rough. I woke up freezing. Went to grab a blanket and found you asleep on the couch.” He sinks into the chair, without the blanket, because it’s currently covering me.
I rise and drape it over him, and he shudders in relief. It’s not that cold in here, and warning bells go off. Heat radiates through my palm as I place it against his forehead.
“You’re burning up. When’s the last time you took anything?”
He doesn’t open his eyes, just rolls his head against the back of the chair. “I haven’t.”
