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“You can’t work her 24–7, boss. Every woman likes a night out. Considering she had a kid, she’s probably hankering to get away once in a while.”
Dax bit down on his molars. Why hadn’t he considered that?
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t thought of it because he couldn’t, no more than he could consider kissing her. Jenna was out of his league in more ways that one. “She’s not your type, Rowdy. Leave her alone. There are plenty of girls in Saddleback waiting for you to call.”
Rowdy didn’t answer and they rode on, but Dax couldn’t get the worry out of his head. He had no right to keep Jenna from having a life. She and that pink princess of hers needed a man to look after them, though she’d probably poison his potato frittata if she heard him say such a thing. Women were testy about that independence business nowadays. But Rowdy was probably right. She needed to get out, make friends, do things that young people do. Get away from the likes of him.
Maybe he should encourage a relationship between his housekeeper and his best ranch hand. Maybe if he did, he could stop thinking about her so much. About her fancy voice and her honey-brown eyes and kissable mouth. About the sweet way she catered to her baby—and his son. About her silvery laugh that caused a catch in his chest as though he couldn’t quite breathe.
A cord of tension crept across his shoulders and up the back of his neck. He hoped he wasn’t getting one of those headaches—blasted, debilitating things. They made him feel like some kind of sissy.
He kicked the horse into a trot and headed across pasture, leaving the other cowboy in the dust. The rush of wind in his face cleared his thinking.
He’d brought Jenna here to the Southpaw. She was his responsibility. Rowdy might be a good worker, but he was fast and loose with the ladies. Jenna deserved better than that.
Yesterday’s near kiss was still on Jenna’s mind as she bathed Sophie. She’d mulled over the incident off and on all day, finally coming to a conclusion. She had overreacted. Considering his normal behavior at dinner last night, Dax had already forgotten. Either that or he hadn’t been about to kiss her at all.
She heard the back door open. A glance at the elephant clock on the armoire had her frowning. Dax hadn’t come in for lunch and the time was long past, though he often skipped the noon meal in favor of work. But someone was certainly here now.
A quiver of concern passed over her. Was something wrong? Worse yet, had someone else come into the house?
Lifting Sophie from her tub, she wrapped the slick little body in a soft, hooded terry cloth towel and went to find out.
Dax stood in the kitchen. He looked weary as he rummaged through the cabinets searching for something. Weary and masculine. She fought back the memory of those strong arms holding her.
“May I help you find something?” she asked. He’d tossed his hat on the counter along with his jacket. His hair was mussed, his shoulders tense. Body heat and cold air radiated from him.
“Aspirin.” He rubbed the back of one hand over his eyes.
“Headache?”
He nodded, looking at her through bloodshot eyes with an expression of both embarrassment and suffering.
“I rearranged the cabinets,” she said. “All medicines are now in the master bath out of Gavin’s reach. I’ll get the pain reliever.”
Pressing Sophie’s still damp body against her shoulder, she started in that direction. Dax followed. “I can manage.”
She let him pass her in the hallway, noticing his usual cowboy swagger was more of a stagger. “Dax. You’re sick.”
She followed him into the master bath, squelching the hint of impropriety. “Go lie down. I’ll get this.”
He lifted one arm halfway then let it drop in surrender. “Thanks.”
He staggered out of the bathroom. Jenna stared after him.
He really was sick. And she was worried. Dax was cowboy tough, almost stoic.
With Sophie in arms, balancing the aspirin and water was a trick, but she managed. By the time she entered the bedroom, Dax was sprawled, fully dressed on a massive brown-and-blue comforter. He levered up on one elbow to accept the medication, then eased back down. His eyes were barely focusing now and his forehead glistened with sweat.
Without giving the action much thought, she lay Sophie next to him and touched his forehead. His skin felt both hot and clammy. He shivered.
“Should I call the doctor?” she asked, growing more worried by the minute.
“No,” he murmured. “Just close the blinds and keep Gavin quiet. I’ll be fine.”
“You aren’t fine, Dax. You’re really sick.” Too sick to remove his dirty boots.
