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Authors: Gail MacMillan
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sick.”
Travis yanked the truck into the breakdown lane and, glancing a concerned look at his companion, braked to a stop.
Jordan stumbled out and vomited.
“You okay, Jake?” Travis started to get out, but Jordan waved him back.
“Yeah, yeah. Just had to barf.” Damn, he was sounding like his kids. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
He wasn’t. During the next half hour Travis had to pull over three more times. Some treat for the kid . The thought crossed his mind as he retched five miles from the farm.
Then they were finally turning in at the gate, driving down to the barn, and Travis was leaping out, calling for his sister.
“Shelby, you’ve got to take a look at Jake! He’s real sick!”
“What happened?” he heard her ask as he eased himself out of the passenger seat and saw her coming toward him in long, confident strides. Always so in charge, always so strong . Isn’t she ever vulnerable like the rest of us? Admiration managed to happen somewhere in his exhausted mind.
“I don’t know.” Travis’s forehead furrowed with concern. “We stopped at a fast food place for a burger and fries. A few minutes later, he got sick…gut-wrenching sick.”
“Jake, what’s wrong?” Shelby stopped beside where he was leaning on the truck’s fender and put a hand on his arm.
“Hey, just what I need…a vet.” His attempt at a joke fell flat as he staggered away from her and retched again.
“Food poisoning?” he heard Travis ask his sister. “Maybe I should have taken him to the hospital, but we were halfway home when it hit.”
“Could be. If it is, we should be able to handle it, unless he gets dehydrated. Help me get him up to the house. We can’t leave him alone in the cabin.”
“Hey, I’m not an invalid.” He straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Man, how crude could you get. But he had nothing else.
“Of course you’re not.” She put an arm around his waist and urged him back into the truck. “Travis, drive him up to the house. I’ll follow you.”
****
“Take off your shirt.” In the farmhouse guest room, Shelby pulled the drapes against the hot afternoon sun and gave the order as he slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What? Listen, I know you’re a doctor, but I really don’t feel comfortable stripping in front of you.” He quirked a weak grin in her direction.
“Yes, well, you won’t be going to bed in my house in a soiled shirt. I’ll bring you one of Travis’s T-shirts. Let me help you with your boots. New, aren’t they?”
She knelt in front of him, and he was too exhausted to protest as she began to unlace his recent acquisitions.
“Travis thought I needed them.”
“You do. And riding ones, too. I should have mentioned them before you went to town.” She pulled the first one off.
“Not to worry.” He struggled out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor. “Travis saw to it that I bought those, too. They’re in the truck.”
“Good for Travis.” She removed the second boot. As she straightened, she stopped short, her gaze on his chest.
Hope she’s seeing something she likes. Otherwise all those crazy sessions at gyms were a waste. Damn, right now I’m too sick to really care. He dropped back against the pillows and felt her raise his feet onto the bed. What a wimp . He hated his quisling body for making a fool of him.
“Rest.” She adjusted cool pillows under his head in the shaded room. “I’m going to get something that will settle your stomach and make you sleep.”
“I can’t take a nap…not in the middle of a working day.” He started to struggle up, but she pushed him back with a strength that at first surprised him, then made sense. She was a vet, accustomed to wrestling animals. One sickly singer wouldn’t present much of a challenge.
“Yes, you can.” She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and looked down at him. In jeans and T-shirt, curls coming lose from her ponytail to fall
Travis yanked the truck into the breakdown lane and, glancing a concerned look at his companion, braked to a stop.
Jordan stumbled out and vomited.
“You okay, Jake?” Travis started to get out, but Jordan waved him back.
“Yeah, yeah. Just had to barf.” Damn, he was sounding like his kids. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
He wasn’t. During the next half hour Travis had to pull over three more times. Some treat for the kid . The thought crossed his mind as he retched five miles from the farm.
Then they were finally turning in at the gate, driving down to the barn, and Travis was leaping out, calling for his sister.
“Shelby, you’ve got to take a look at Jake! He’s real sick!”
“What happened?” he heard her ask as he eased himself out of the passenger seat and saw her coming toward him in long, confident strides. Always so in charge, always so strong . Isn’t she ever vulnerable like the rest of us? Admiration managed to happen somewhere in his exhausted mind.
“I don’t know.” Travis’s forehead furrowed with concern. “We stopped at a fast food place for a burger and fries. A few minutes later, he got sick…gut-wrenching sick.”
“Jake, what’s wrong?” Shelby stopped beside where he was leaning on the truck’s fender and put a hand on his arm.
“Hey, just what I need…a vet.” His attempt at a joke fell flat as he staggered away from her and retched again.
“Food poisoning?” he heard Travis ask his sister. “Maybe I should have taken him to the hospital, but we were halfway home when it hit.”
“Could be. If it is, we should be able to handle it, unless he gets dehydrated. Help me get him up to the house. We can’t leave him alone in the cabin.”
“Hey, I’m not an invalid.” He straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Man, how crude could you get. But he had nothing else.
“Of course you’re not.” She put an arm around his waist and urged him back into the truck. “Travis, drive him up to the house. I’ll follow you.”
****
“Take off your shirt.” In the farmhouse guest room, Shelby pulled the drapes against the hot afternoon sun and gave the order as he slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What? Listen, I know you’re a doctor, but I really don’t feel comfortable stripping in front of you.” He quirked a weak grin in her direction.
“Yes, well, you won’t be going to bed in my house in a soiled shirt. I’ll bring you one of Travis’s T-shirts. Let me help you with your boots. New, aren’t they?”
She knelt in front of him, and he was too exhausted to protest as she began to unlace his recent acquisitions.
“Travis thought I needed them.”
“You do. And riding ones, too. I should have mentioned them before you went to town.” She pulled the first one off.
“Not to worry.” He struggled out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor. “Travis saw to it that I bought those, too. They’re in the truck.”
“Good for Travis.” She removed the second boot. As she straightened, she stopped short, her gaze on his chest.
Hope she’s seeing something she likes. Otherwise all those crazy sessions at gyms were a waste. Damn, right now I’m too sick to really care. He dropped back against the pillows and felt her raise his feet onto the bed. What a wimp . He hated his quisling body for making a fool of him.
“Rest.” She adjusted cool pillows under his head in the shaded room. “I’m going to get something that will settle your stomach and make you sleep.”
“I can’t take a nap…not in the middle of a working day.” He started to struggle up, but she pushed him back with a strength that at first surprised him, then made sense. She was a vet, accustomed to wrestling animals. One sickly singer wouldn’t present much of a challenge.
“Yes, you can.” She straightened, put her hands on her hips, and looked down at him. In jeans and T-shirt, curls coming lose from her ponytail to fall
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