Page 19 of On the Wild Side

“No,I’msorry. Keep me posted.”

“Same goes. Thanks, Erin. Bye.” I hang up and sigh, tossing my arm over my face. “Damn it.”

“What do we need to do?”

I move my arm and stare up at him. “Huh?”

“What do we need to do to get ready for her? Puke bucket? Cold compress?” He stands and heads for the kitchen as if he’s on a mission.

I slowly rise from the couch and simply say, “Brady.”

He turns to me, those eyes no less hot, but his body less intense.

“Your girl’s sick, Abs.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Now, what do we need to do?”

We spend ten minutes getting things ready. The big bowl, a cold compress, and fresh pajamas on hand. When everything is as ready as it can be, Brady pulls me against him and kisses me, long and slow.

“You’ll never apologize to me again for being a mom.”

“It’s just such bad timing.” I drag my fingers down his cheek, enjoying the way the stubble feels on my skin, imagining the way it would have felt in other areas. “Rain check?”

“Rain, snow, sleet, hail…you name it.”

I laugh, and he kisses me again, and then I see the headlights through the window, and Brady pulls back from me.

“Let’s go get her,” he says.

The back passenger door flies open, and Daisy leans her head out and upchucks all over the snow, then immediately begins to cry.

“Oh, baby,” I hurry to her and scoop her up. She’s not a baby anymore, and she’s gotten heavier, so I’m grateful when Brady hurries over to take her from me. “Did she get the inside of your truck?”

“No,” Rem says, shaking his head. “She held it in until I pulled in here. I’d better head back. I’m pretty sure I have a mess waiting for me to help clean up.”

“Thanks for giving her a ride,” I say and notice the way Rem eyes Brady’s truck. Brady’s already inside with my daughter. “You’ll have to talk to him about this.”

“Plan to.” He grins at me and gets back into his truck. “Good luck.”

When I get inside, I hear Brady cooing to Daisy in the bathroom, where I hear her throwing up again, so I grab the cold compress and join them, placing it on the back of her neck.

“Mama,” she manages to get out as I kneel next to her.

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry. Do you need to throw up some more?”

Brady appears with a wet cloth and wipes her little face and lips, and Daisy shakes her head no.

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Let’s go snuggle on the couch.”

Brady lifts Daisy and gives her a ride to the living room, but Daisy shakes her head.

“I want to rock,” she says, her little voice weak.

“She’s always been a rocker,” I say with a small smile. “You can give her to me, and I’ll?—”

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