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She froze, turning to look at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re shifting around and holding your stomach. Are you feeling sick?”
Her cheeks flushed and she looked everywhere but him. She almost seemed embarrassed, but why would she be?
“Um, my stomach is bothering me.”
He turned toward her a little, wincing as his wound pulled. “Do you need something? I’m sure Rascal has every stomach remedy known to man. A lot of my worst-case scenario planning and always be prepared came from him.”
“It’s not that kind of stomachache.”
If it wasn’t that kind of stomachache, then what kind was it? Her hand rubbed her abdomen as she winced again. He stared in her eyes, trying to figure out what she was trying to say.
“Is there something that might make it feel better?” he questioned.
If anything, the question had her face getting redder, while the flush traveled down her neck.
“Do you have a heating pad? In my rush to pack, I forgot one.”
He felt like the biggest fool not figuring out what was hurting but he didn’t understand why she was embarrassed.
“Do you have cramps?”
Winnie glared at him, as if he shouldn’t have brought it up. “Yes,” she hissed.
“Sunshine, I’ve tasted every inch of you and had your thighs shaking against my face as you came. A period doesn’t embarrass me and it shouldn’t embarrass you. It’s as natural as my boner every morning. Now, let me grab the heating pad. What else would help?”
“I don’t want you getting it. I’m supposed to be helping you.”
He ran his finger over Winnie’s earnest face. This woman undid him.
“Sunshine, I’m getting up to go to the bathroom. I’ll grab his heating pad and then you need to tell me if you need anything else.”
He gingerly stood, using the couch arm to hoist himself up. His wound pulled like a bitch when he stood up or sat down, otherwise it was just uncomfortable. He went in the bathroom, took care of business, and headed to Rascal’s room.
His dad had a bad back from bending over the tattoo chair for so many years. Rascal always had the heating pad he was using and a new one in a box.
He couldn’t take away all the pain but he wanted Winnie to feel a little better. He’d text Regina and see if she had any thoughts.
Bear: Winnie is watching over me because Rascal thought I needed a babysitter. She has cramps. I’m getting her a heating pad but is there something else that could help?
Regina: I always liked hot tea and sweets—chocolate, cookies, etc. A couple of pain relievers might help too.
Bear: Thank you.
He walked into the kitchen, pulling open Rascal’s sweets drawer. His dad didn’t want them where he’d see them every day. Rascal had fought his weight his whole life but sometimes he wanted a sweet. Bear grabbed a bag of Sixlets because they were one of his favorites and a couple other bags to let her choose.
He walked in, handing her the heating pad then plugging it in for her. Sitting down on the couch, he opened the bag of Sixlets and held it out toward Winnie, silently asking if she wanted any.
She nodded, grinning, and grabbed a handful. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I grabbed these, too, but if you want something else, I can have someone check the clubhouse kitchen. I don’t want you hurting. Do you need any pain relievers?” He was irritated he had to deal with his pain but sheesh, women had to deal with cramps every month. He hated to see her hurting.
Winnie’s hand reached over and patted his. “Thanks, Bear. I’m good now.”
He settled back and flipped the movie back on. In his head, he knew he should never have kids because it wasn’t safe, but he was a little disappointed Winnie wasn’t pregnant with his baby. Which how fucked up was that? He didn’t even know his own mind.
He needed to quit craving what he couldn’t have and just enjoy what Winnie brought into his life. Maybe having Winnie here would help him sleep. The shooting had seemed to bring back his nightmares. He’d thought he’d gotten rid of them but they’d returned.
