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She wagged her finger at him. “Naughty. Smoking is very, very bad. You shouldn’t do it. It’s not good for your health. Understand?”
“Is that so?”
“It is so. You should give it up. Right now.”
“All right.”
“All right?” she asked. “It isn’t that easy. You can’t just say you’ll quit and do it.”
“I don’t smoke much. I gave it up before, I can do it again. For you.”
He walked into the house and through to the living room, where he laid her on the couch. She stared up at him with glassy eyes. There were red patches on her cheeks.
She wasn’t drunk at all. She was ill.
Placing his hand over her forehead, he nearly snatching it back when her skin sizzled against his.
“How long have you been running a fever?”
“I don’t know,” she grumbled as she rolled onto her side, glaring at him. “Go away. I don’t like you. Even if you stop smoking.”
Ouch.
That hurt more than it should have. But he pushed that away for the moment. He wasn’t the one who was burning up and delirious.
“Jose?” he called out.
“Yes, boss?” Jose asked.
“Call Doctor Stanley. Tell him she’s got a high temperature and that I want him here now.”
“Sure.”
“I’m going to take her upstairs.”
“Nooo,” she grumbled as he once again picked her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. “I don’t want to get out of bed, Mama. I’m sick. I don’t care that Daddy will be mad. Let me stay in bed. Please.”
God. She was killing him here. Had her father made her get out of bed when she was ill?
Fucking monster.
“Hush, baby,” he crooned. “I’m just taking you to bed.”
“You are?” she said in an awed voice.
“Yes. I’m going to strip you off and put you to bed. Won’t that be nice?”
“Nice? Nice! I don’t want nice. I want mind-blowing. I want incredible, stupendous, amazing! Don’t ruin it for me and tell me that you’re a dud in bed.”
“Uh.” He paused halfway up the stairs, unsure what to say to that.
“Because that would be a real bummer since I’ve kind of built you up to this sex god in my head. Please tell me you’re a sex god. Please.”
“You are going to be so upset if you remember all of this once the fever breaks.”
“I want my mama. I want her to make me chicken soup. Please. Father doesn’t need to know. Let’s not tell him.”
“Shh, no one is telling that bastard anything.” He started up the stairs again.
