Page 41 of Tangled Trust

"Damn it. I really don’t need this right now," he groans.

"I’ll go to the store and get something for pain and fever and some calamine lotion while you hop into bed."

"Sounds like you’ve done this before."

"You see a lot of colorful bugs when you work with children," I say, hoping Carter will accept that as a reasonable explanation. "Also, my aunt had chickenpox when she was an adult, so I know what to do," I add a little white lie to seal the deal.

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Ella."

"My pleasure."

I return to the house half an hour or so later with my bag of tricks to find Carter and Jagger snuggled up in Jagger’s room. My heart nearly melts at the sight of Carter all squashed up and contorted so he fits onto Jagger's small bed. I swear it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

It’s all I can do to keep myself from throwing myself at Carter. What a sweet dad he is. Carter spots me, presses his finger against his lips, and points to a sleeping Jagger. I smile and nod, and then I leave the room so the two can have a nap.

The next few days are filled with a succession of calamine patrols, encouraging talks about not scratching, and general complaining. And that’s just Jagger. Carter is a trooper, but I can see he’s not impressed with the whole chickenpox virus malarkey. Men are terrible patients, they say. Whoever they are. To be fair, though, Carter tries his best to stay upbeat.

Once the spots are out in force, the fever abates, and now Jagger is irritated. He wants to play outside and go back to school, so it takes a herculean effort to keep him all calamined up to the eyeballs. Even the insides of his ears are itchy.

"Ugh! Kill me now," Carter says while he rubs his skin with the palms of his hands. "I look ridiculous," he fusses.

"How can I help?" I offer a sympathetic ear.

"I’m sorry to ask, but there’s a spot on my back I just cannot get to. And believe me, I’ve tried," he says, pointing. "Would you mind?"

Are you kidding? Would I mind?

"Sure."

"Oh, great. Thank you," he sighs and lifts up his shirt.

"I’ll rub on some more lotion, shall I?"

"I don’t care what you do. Just make it stop," he groans.

Hhmm. I could take your mind off the itch by jumping your bones.

"How’s this?" I ask, rubbing the cool lotion on the place he pointed to. Carter’s back is strong. I can feel all the back muscles as I run my fingers over the surface. Sure, there are a litany of spots there at present, but that doesn’t make him any less Greek-god-like.

"Aaahhhh…keep rubbing. Ooff, yeah. That’s the spot."

I can only imagine what anyone walking past the room right now must think of the noises Carter’s making. They are, for lack of a better description, bang-on sexual. I’m turned on as hell as I keep rubbing and reminding myself that I’m a doctor first and a woman second.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight.

"What? Does my back look like peanut brittle?" he chuckles.

"Nope. You’re alright."

"How’s Jagger today?"

"He’s outside with Dash. What do you think?"

"Bloody kids. They infect you with whatever plagues them and then bounce back like nothing ever happened."

"That’s the truth of it," I laugh. "Messy, noisy, pint-sized assassins, the lot."

"You must have seen your fair share of ailments as an Au Pair. I don’t know how you do it."

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