Page 57 of Found in Wild Sage

I’m not a heroine in the nineteenth century who faints on couches and gets the vapors, but I do find emotional upheaval to be exhausting. One might argue a whirlwind wedding, moving in with a man I’m just barely getting to know, a sick baby, and the ongoing custody battle have flattened me.

“Symptoms?”

Irritation shoots up my spine, and I push to my feet.

It’s a less effective statement when my vision swims and I have to steady myself on the chair. But I’m not about to let him boss me around. Not that he normally does, but for some reason, I’ve woken up on the wrong side of the table and I’m irritable as all get out.

“Thanks for your concern, Doctor, but I’m fine. I see lunch is almost over, so I better get back to it.”

He’s taken aback by the sharpness of my response. I don’t have to look at his face to see it—and I don’t look. Instead, I toss my sandwich in the trash, grab my water bottle, and brush out of the room in a flash.

Or, realistically, I use every bit of my energy to power myself to the front desk. I don’t think I have a fever, but I may not be up to coming in tomorrow if I don’t get better rest tonight. Instead of dealing with my house after work, I’ll get Charlie and we’ll work toward an early bedtime.

Yes. That’s all I need.

The afternoon trudges by. Sam texts to see how I’m doing and I tell her Charlie’s feeling better and I’m exhausted but fine. She doesn’t send anything in writing about me and Declan, and I appreciate that. I’m in no humor to answer questions about my hot, thoughtful, nosey husband.

This line of thought shoves an image into my mind so potent, I nearly choke on the sip of coffee I’ve just taken. It’s later than I normally have caffeine, but I do still have to make it through the dinner and bedtime routine, and that’s after another hour of work.

The mental picture is from yesterday when I was forced to endure the moment Declan, shirtless and offensively gorgeous in his kitchen, snatched up my baby and talked to him in the sweetest way.

The absolute assault on my ovaries that happened in that moment will never be forgotten. It is seared into my brain and shall evermore be.

It was bad enough to come downstairs and see him in his frankly rather tiny running shorts, his muscular thighs and calves on full display. His chest and abs are what one might imagine of a single doctor who likes to exercise, eat well, and comes from Ryan stock.

Except better. Because he hadn’t shaved yet, so he had a touch of stubble, his hair a bit mussed and almost rakish. He was a visual feast.

And then, he held my baby.

“I think you’re coming down with something, Evie.”

Maggie’s concern cuts through my fantasy. I should probably be ashamed of myself for lingering over the moment in my mind. Maybe on another day, I would. But today, I feel I have very little control over what my brain does, and he is my husband after all, isn’t he?

“You might be right,” I reluctantly admit. I don’t like it, but maybe if it’s what Charlie had, I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.

Eventually, it’s finally time to leave, when I’m gathering my things and Declan approaches.

“Am I on the preschool’s list as someone authorized to pick Charlie up?”

I halt my actions and turn to him. “Yes. I added you last week.”

He nods. “Let me get him. You go home and relax.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me by cupping cheek in one cool palm. It feels so good I almost nuzzle into it, save for the fact that I am still aware we’re at work.

“It’s after hours, so I’m going to treat you like my wife, not my employee, okay?”

My lashes flutter because, what? “Okay?”

I could swear a smile flickers across his face before it’s gone. “I’m going to help you. Whether you’re just exhausted or you’re coming down with what Charlie had, you need rest. Let me do this.”

The petulant part of me wants to say no, but I’m not an idiot. I need help, and for once, getting it doesn’t involve calling Jack or even texting Sam. Not that I did either one of those very often.

Today, I do need help, much as I’m reluctant to admit it. And the thought of falling into Declan’s bed sounds like the best thing I can imagine.

So, like a hero, I accept his help yet again.

“Good. Thank you. I’ll see you at home in about an hour.” He sweeps his thumb over my cheek, then drops his hand.