Page 5 of Santa's Baby

I’m in a bed.

There’s a grunt from the shadows, and more comes back to me in flashes. Ford carrying me in here. Ford trying to get me to take medicine. His hand. . . Oh.

I sit up, smooth my dress down over my hips, and whisper his name. “Ford?”

He steps forward as the light pulses across the room again. “You need medicine.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re burning up.”

“Did I faint?” I move to sit on the side of the bed and test my legs out by swinging them. “I do that sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“You have a fever.” His voice is strangled now, I realize, and I jerk my head up to look at him better in the dim light.

“You were worried about me.”

“Of course I was—” He laughs, sharp and hollow. “Jesus, Neely, you're not dressed appropriately for the weather.”

“I thought the lighthouse was closer to the retirement home than it was. It looks closer.” I shiver, remembering how cold it got.

Suddenly I’m on my back, and Ford is above me, tucking me back under the heavy blanket. “Hey!”

He scowls. “Medicine first. Then we can talk about how you almost died because of cold exposure.”

That’s a ridiculous exaggeration.

“Can I go pee first before you lecture me?” I glare up at him.

He cracks a reluctant smile. “Yeah.”

As he gets me the painkillers and a bottle of water, I push the blanket off my legs. After taking the medicine, and before I can even wiggle my legs again and test standing, he scoops me into his arms.

“Hey,” I protest, but my head swims a little, so my protest is less heated than before.

“I’ll bring you to the washroom, and you can have some privacy.” He’s so gruff. “I’ll find you warmer clothes.”

“It’s plenty warm in here.”

He ignores me and carries me across the room and through another door. He’s renovated the bathroom since I was here last, but that’s been at least five years.

“Nice tile,” I say to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work.

“Hold on to the wall when I set you down,” he barks.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Da—”

We both freeze.Daddy, don’t go.Did I say that out loud as I was waking up? I think I did. I think I can still feel the words in my throat and hear his ragged breathing as I say them, and oh myGod.Here I am, giving him lip like a teenager—which is hot for me, but definitely not for him. There isn’t a chance in hell Ford will ever see me as anything other than a childish brat if I forget myself.

He exhales roughly. “Let’s both be glad I’m not your father.”

“Ford, I—”

He brushes his lips against my temple, then sets me down. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with clothes for you.”

Mortification rolls through me as he leaves, clicking the door shut behind him. I make my way to the toilet and plunk my ass down.

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