Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Charlotte,” Clint said warningly. He was standing at the end of the bed, his arms crossed over his wide chest, a scowl on his face. He’d changed back into jeans and a plaid shirt. She’d wanted to peek in on him in his suit earlier. Which is how she’d come to be outside their bedroom door, accidentally eavesdropping on his conversation with Kent, when she’d heard him talking about eloping.
Guilt swamped her. He didn’t want any of this wedding. She’d pushed him into it.
“Tell Doc the truth,” Clint warned.
She licked her lips and glanced over at Doc. “Umm, well, I guess I felt a bit dizzy earlier today.”
“All right, anything else? Headache? Sore throat?”
She shook her head then winced. “I’ve got a bit of a headache right now.”
Doc nodded. “Think you can sit up okay? I want to check your throat and have a listen to your chest.”
“Yes, I can.” She put her hands down to push herself up. Suddenly, Clint was there. He moved pillows around so she was half-reclining. She gave him a small smile.
“Thank you.”
Clint’s face softened before he moved away so Doc could examine her. He looked down her throat, felt her glands. Then he peered in her ears, before checking her breathing with his stethoscope.
“Right, Clint, can you help her lie on her side and pull down her pants. I’ll take her temperature.”
She groaned. See? Here came the butt stuff.
“Did you just say here comes the butt stuff?” Doc asked, raising an eyebrow.
She could feel herself going bright red. Whoops.
“Umm, maybe?”
Doc turned to Clint. “Butt stuff?”
Clint shrugged as he moved the blanket off her and reached for her jeans.
“There’s always butt stuff with you, Doc,” she muttered.
Doc rolled his eyes.
Clint leaned in to whisper in her ear. “There’s plenty of butt stuff you like.”
Oh dear Lord.
He slid her jeans and panties down, taking them off entirely. Then he rolled her so she was facing away from Doc. She knew the drill and pulled her legs up to her chest. Clint placed the blanket back over her, rubbing her back gently as he sat on the bed, his thigh brushing up against her back.
“Good. Raise the blanket and part her bottom cheeks for me.”
She buried her face in the pillows as she felt Clint following Doc’s orders.
“Here’s the thermometer, Charlie,” Doc said quietly, slipping the cool, glass rod deep into her bottom.
Jeez, with how often she had this done you would think it would get easier.
It did not.
Clint rubbed her back, knowing this wasn’t fun for her.
Doc pulled the thermometer free moments later. “Keep her covered with the blanket. Charlie, you can roll over.”
She moved onto her back and looked up at Doc as Clint rearranged the blanket.
“Charlie, when is the last time you ate?” Doc asked.
She blinked. Then she forced her mind to think.
Doc made a noise of displeasure. “I’m guessing if it’s taking you this long to remember then it was too long ago.”
“Charlotte, what did you have for lunch?” Clint asked.
Lunch? She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. Shoot. How was it two already?
“I think I forgot. Sorry. But I ate breakfast.”
“Really?” Doc asked. “And what did you have?”
“Ahh, Lucky Charms.”
Clint groaned. “Charlotte, that is not a proper breakfast.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I was in a rush and I wasn’t very hungry. There’s a lot going on at the moment.”
Clint ran his hand over his face. “This is my fault. I haven’t been around much lately. You think she fainted because she didn’t eat enough today?”
Doc reached out a hand and gently grasped hold of hers. He examined her nails and fingers. “When was the last time you drank some water?”
She licked her lips. “I’m…I’m not sure.”
Doc sighed. “Her temperature is up slightly and she has a bit of a red throat. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s coming down with a cold. But what really worries me is that she seems rundown. She appears to have lost weight. She isn’t eating or drinking enough. How about sleep? Is she getting regular naps?”
Clint’s jaw was tight as he shook his head. Poor Clint.
“Right. Since this is not the first time we’ve run into this issue and because we want you to be fully well for your wedding, I’m grounding you and putting you on bed rest.”
Her mouth dropped open. Grounding her? Could he do that? She looked over at Clint, who was frowning. Was he going to object?
“For a week?” Clint asked.
Wait. He was going along with this? Were they actually serious?
“Let’s make it five days. Depends on how quickly this temperature disappears. You’ll need to put her back on the suppository vitamins again.”
Clint just nodded. Crap. This kept getting worse and worse. She didn’t want those damn suppositories again. And she definitely didn’t want to be grounded or on bed rest. Whatever the hell all that entailed.