She doesn’t seem to have the emotional energy to fight me, so she collapses onto the corner of the sofa near the mountain of crumpled-up tissues.
“I ate a couple of bites of the boys’ leftover eggs and waffles this morning and a few chicken nuggets.” She points to the plates with smeared ketchup and half-eaten chicken.
“So, all you’ve had are your toddlers’ leftovers all day?”
She nods and lays her head back on the cushion. “Wasn’t that hungry.”
I walk over to where she is and place my hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
My stomach clenches with worry. Her cheeks are flushed, but all she does is hum.
“I had a call with an online doctor. They prescribed me some meds. I figured I’d pick them up tomorrow.”
“Where was it sent?”
“Hmm … the local pharmacy, I think. Isn’t there only one?”
There are two, but I don’t bother telling her that because it’s already past closing time for both.
“I’ll go pick it up in the morning. You need to eat something substantial.”
She groans, burying her face in the pillow. “I’m not hungry.”
“You gotta eat something, Mamas. I’m gonna walk over to the main house to get some ingredients. Try to get some sleep.”
“It’s fine. I don’t need any help.”
“Too bad. I’m not asking.”
28
DALLAS
The plague has struck me down. I’ve never felt so sick in my entire life.
I roll over in bed, my head pounding. The urge to check on the boys overcomes me. The instinctual feeling that they might not be breathing or something could’ve happened to them forces me to my feet.
Now that I think about it, I don’t even remember going to bed or anything from last night. I trudge down the hall, my panic starting to build.
When I push open the door to the boys’ room, my body relaxes. They’re sound asleep on the queen-size bed. They kicked the covers off, and they’re dressed in clean pajamas.
Hmm, okay. Go, me. Zombie mom still got it.
I make my way into the kitchen in search of a glass of water. It’s pitch-black, so I flip on the lamp by the sofa.
My heart jumps into my throat when I see the dark shape of a large man on the sofa.
Duke’s eyes pop open, and he leans up. “Hey, you okay?”
“Uh, I was just getting water.”
What is he doing here?
The memories of the night before flood through my mind.
Duke came over, cleaned up the house, fed me chicken noodle soup, and must have put the boys to bed for me.
Duke, my unbelievably hot cowboy neighbor. Orgasm master.
