Ride Wild(18)

"Welcome home," he said, smiling at her across the bench seat of his pickup. And oh man, there was that dimple.

"Thank you," she said. Good thing she was tired, or she'd have a hard  time restraining herself from climbing over there and straddling Slider  so she could examine that little mark of softness a little closer. "That  sounds really nice."                       
       
           



       

But later that night as Cora helped Ben take a bath without soaking his  cast, she was shivering with fever. "You don't look so good, Cora," Ben  said, his face too like his father's with concern shaping his little  features.

"I'm okay, Ben."

But apparently not. Because when she rose to help Ben climb out of the  tub, she must've gotten up way too fast. The whole world went  topsy-turvy.

Cora fell, just catching herself against the toilet, before going down to the floor again.

"Cora!" Ben yelled, scrambling out after her. "Sam, it's Cora!"

Dazed, Cora blinked and tried to right herself, but she couldn't seem to make herself move.

The door burst open, and Sam was there above her. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Ben said. "I think she's sick. Look how red her face is."

Crouching over her, Sam put his hand to her head. "Jesus."

"That's a bad word," Ben said, his voice wobbly.

Sam rose, opened the medicine cabinet, and returned to her again.

"I'm okay," she said, her teeth chattering. Why was she so cold? "Just help me up."

"Did you hit your head?" Sam asked. "I took a first aid class in school,  and I think you're supposed to ask that when someone falls."

"No," she managed. The boys helped her sit up until her back was against the tub.

"I think you should take this," Sam said, holding out a thermometer.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you," she said, but she did as he directed.

Kneeling in front of her, both boys watched her like she might fall  again at any second. When the thermometer beeped, they both leaned in.

Ugh. 103.7. Not good.

"That's bad, isn't it?" Ben asked.

"That's real bad," Sam said, brow cranked down. "Should we call an ambulance, Cora?"

"No," she said. She didn't have insurance, so no way did she want to go that route. "Let's just try to get it down."

So while she gave orders, the boys fetched her what she asked  for-ibuprofen, a couple of wet, cold washcloths, her cell phone. Just in  case.

But she was kind of stuck on the bathroom floor, because every time she  tried to get up, the world spun on her again. "I'm just gonna rest  here," she said, curling over on the little rug in front of the tub.

"Okay, Cora. I'll be right back," Sam said, adjusting the cold cloth on her forehead again. "Stay here, Ben."

She wanted to reassure them, to take away their worries, but them talking over her was the last thing she knew.



"Dad, Cora's sick. Real sick."

Sam's panicked voice echoed in Slider's ears the whole way home. He  didn't care that he was midshift. Or that he hadn't been able to find a  replacement. He'd bailed and gone immediately home.

Because Cora and his boys needed him.

"Sam?" he called the minute he walked in the door.

"Up here, Dad."

Damnit, he hated the fear he heard in the kid's voice, and as he skidded into the hall bathroom, he saw why.

Cora lay in a ball on the bathroom floor, face splotchy red, body shivering.

"She has a real bad fever, Dad," Ben said, his eyes wide, his little forehead furrowed.

Slider's gut went on a Tilt-A-Whirl. He'd been here before. Taking care  of someone he lo-well, someone he cared about. "Let me in there, guys."  He crouched beside her. "Cora, can you hear me?"

Her eyes eked open. "Aw, no. You're home. I'm sorry."

Slider put his hand on her forehead. "Jesus." He grabbed the thermometer. "Can you take this for me?"

She managed something like a smile. "You remind me of Sam."

103.2.

"It's gone down a little," Sam said.

"But not enough. Sam, turn on the tub. Make the water cool, but not  cold." It was a good plan with one major problem: getting her jeans off,  because they'd be hell to remove once they were wet. "Okay, boys, why  don't you give Cora a little privacy here, because I'm going to put her  in the tub and let the cool water help her." Neither wanted to go, that  much was clear. Slider grabbed each of their hands. "Hey, she's gonna be  fine. It's just a fever." He hoped.

When the door closed behind them, Slider brushed Cora's hair back from  her face. "I'm going to sit you up on the toilet and take off your  jeans, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. "Sweet talker."

Why did he suspect that her humor here was more for his benefit than an  attempt to play down the situation? Sliding his arms under her shoulders  and knees, he lifted her up to the toilet seat, where he undid the  button and zipper on her pants. "Now put your arms around my neck. I'm  going to stand you up and push your jeans down."                       
       
           



       

With eyebrows raised, she gave a smile that looked like she really  wanted to offer some more smart-ass commentary, but she was too sick to  do it. And damn, that slayed him, it really did. "Okay, then."

"Here we go," he said, supporting her back with one hand as he worked  the denim down over her hips. He returned her to the toilet seat and  tugged the jeans the rest of the way off.

"Shirt, too?" she asked.

"Yeah, probably," he said, gently pulling it over her head until she sat  there in a white bra and a pair of white silk panties. He tried to keep  his focus all on the business of helping her, he really did. He felt  the water. "Okay, I think this is ready." And, man, as hot as she was,  it was going to suck for her. Lifting her once more, he stepped to the  tub, but it was almost hard to let her go when she laid her head against  his chest.

She hit the water with a shriek, eyes wide, hands flailing. "It's freezing."

"I know. You don't have to stay in long."

"Slider," she whined.

"Ssh, I know. Scoot down as much as you can."

She did as he asked, peering up at him with bloodshot eyes as the water  crested her shoulders. He found one of the washcloths she'd been using  and soaked it again before bringing it to her face. Rinse and wipe,  rinse and wipe, until he had her hair mostly wet. She hugged herself so  tight and held herself so rigidly that the bones of her clavicle  protruded.

"Just a few more minutes," he reassured her.

"You know," she said, licking the water off her lips. "I suspected a  really hot guy hid under all that facial hair, but I never expected just  how sweet a man hid under all the gruffness."

The comment hit him about a dozen different ways. Pleasure. Surprise. Embarrassment. More. Plus, she thought he was hot?

No, no. He was not starting down that train of thought while she lay  there mostly naked and sick. "I think the fever is going to your head."

"No, just using the cover of the fever to say something I might not otherwise. Guess I blew that cover, though, huh?"

He managed a chuckle, because this playfulness was evidence that she was  doing a little better. "Let's see where your fever is," he said,  handing her the thermometer again.

102.1.

Better. Improved enough that relief flooded through him. "I'd be happier  if we got this down into the 101 range before getting you out," he  said. "Think you can make it?"

Teeth clattering, she nodded. "Yeah, I can feel it working. Thank you. I'm sorry you had to come home."

"I'm not," he said. And he wasn't. Admittedly, it raised some memories  he'd rather not revisit to be taking care of another woman in this  house, but that was where the similarities with Kim ended. Cora wasn't  terminally ill. She didn't have cancer. And she was a cooperative  patient, which Kim had never been. Maybe that was because Kim knew, as  he did, that if she hadn't gotten sick, she'd have still been with the  other guy, whoever he was. And she knew, too, that that other guy hadn't  stuck around when she'd told him about her cancer. But Slider had.

Because that was what family should do, even when that family had fucked things up. Big time.

Still, he sometimes wondered whether the other man or he was the bigger  asshole. Because that douchebag had abandoned her when she was ill, but  Slider had taken care of her knowing she wanted to leave him.  Sonofabitch.

"Slider, I can't take it anymore," Cora said.

He reached in and pulled the plug, and then he turned and grabbed a towel. "You did good, Cora. Real good."