Page 52 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

“What can I say, I’m a saint. Saint Valentine.”

“Saint Valentine was martyred, you know, and said to be clubbed to death and beheaded.”

“Hush.” I covered Ginsberg’s ears. “Not in front of the children. And not romantic, James.”

“Sorry.” His eyes sparkled, and he pushed his glasses up. “If I can hop in the shower and change, I’ll make my nerd lapse up to you with hot Valentine’s Day wear.”

He’d come from work, and I wanted to tell him the professor look already got me hot, but the restaurant was black-tie. My suit hung in the closet, and I only needed to change since I’d already showered and shaved.

“Sure, you know where everything is.” I smiled.

It was nice that he had been at my apartment enough to know where I kept my towels and extra soaps. He knew every inch of the place after decorating it for me, of course. James had turned my empty spaces into a home.

“Unless you want to shower with me?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“We are not missing this dinner,” I huffed, crossing my arms.

“Fine. But the food isn’t what I want to take a bite out of.” He gave a saucy grin and went to the bathroom. I’d created a dirty-talking nerd, one who was sweet and raunchy all at once. How lucky was I?

I fed Ginsberg, adding some ground meat I’d saved for him. Suddenly, the smell of the beef made my insides tighten, and a wave of nausea swept over me. I placed the bowl down quickly for Ginsberg and clutched my stomach. What the hell? It wasn’t the meat; that was brand-new. Besides, I hadn’t eaten any.

I took a few steady breaths, and the nausea eased a little. Determinedly, I went to lay out my suit. I also checked the warming lube I’d bought and some other fun toys for later. My heart skipped a beat at the romantic night ahead.

My stomach, however, had other plans. Sharper, more insistent nausea overwhelmed me. I gasped as sickness roiled in my gut. At that moment, I heard the shower stop, but I didn’t want to burst in on James, so I raced to my kitchen sink.

With only Ginsberg as my witness, I vomited and desperately cleaned the evidence away. Maybe that was it? One time and gone?

It wasn’t.

James came into the kitchen to see me hunched over and helplessly throwing up.

“Oh my God!” He touched my back.

I waved him away with one hand, even as I continued to hurl.

“Are you okay? Can I do something? I’ll get you a wet washcloth.”

My stomach eased for a second, and I managed to wipe my face and mouth. “It must be the damn seafood stew of Wyatt’s! That’s the only food that I—” I broke off, racing to my bathroom for the toilet.

James hovered in the doorway. “Can I help?”

“Don’t—come—in—here—please.” I choked the words out.

“I want to help. I’m bothered to see you sick.”

I couldn’t answer, hurling again. James came in and bent down beside me. He rubbed my back as I vomited. I clutched the rim of the toilet with my hands, waiting for my stomach to stop rioting.

“I’ll be fine in a little bit, and we can go.”

“We’re not going anywhere. You have some kind of food poisoning. The last thing you need is to try and make some big meal.”

“But our reservations….” I stood weakly. “I’m okay and can go.”

“No, we need to stay in.”

“No, I’m not going to be a sick little baby. It’ll pass, and we’ll go. I won’t deprive you of this night.”

“You are being a sick little baby by arguing. Stop it.”

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