Page 40 of Unexpected Love
“Anyone know how to make the rash stop itching?” I ask. I don’t give a fuck if they all want to take a look and see what I’ve got going on down there if they can find me some relief.
“Hand, foot and mouth, right?” Kate says, kindness in her tone. “Maybe try an oatmeal bath in the morning. But hang on, I’ve got some baby powder that might help.”
I no sooner get the powder applied than tones drop for an unknown medical call. Since there’s no telling if they’ll need backup, Jackson and I follow Leo and Kate. We follow them inside the house, Jackson taking the lead behind the medics, assessing the situation. They have leads on the patient, monitoring cardiac output, and I stand off to the side, trying my best not to squirm because it’s hot as fuck in this house. In my bunker gear, even though I’m only wearing the bottoms with my suspenders hanging loose, I’m roasting. And the sweat is making everything worse.
“Hey, Cal,” Jackson calls. “Can you head back to the bus and check the monitor? I don’t think this one is reading properly.”
He’s lying. The monitor is working fine, and even I can tell from this distance that this patient is fine and not having a cardiac incident. His eyes meet mine, and he gives me a jerk of his chin as if he’s sayingGet out of here.
Cool air greets me outside of the sweltering house andbrings a modicum of relief. I strip out of the heavy turnout pants and stand wide-legged at the back of the ambulance, grateful that Jackson and the medics have my back.
Despite the ribbing they’re all giving me, there’s an underlying something that I can’t quite put my finger on. And that underlying something sticks with me, all the way back to the station. It sticks with me when they let me take the first shower. When I find Kate’s powder on the bedside table in my bunkroom. When Leo tells me he’s been researching home-care relief of hand, foot and mouth symptoms over coffee. When Jackson brings me a fresh cup of coffee because he knows getting out of the recliner and walking sucks.
By the time my shift ends, I’ve had no sleep, and my body is miserable. But for the first time maybe ever, I feel like I have a crew that’s got my back in this horrible situation.
Jules has already taken Charlie to the sitter’s when I make it to the shop. It’s going to be a long fucking day of hard work, but I promised her I’d finish her shop and help her meet her target opening date.
I’m an hour in on framing a wall for the bathroom when I hear her come through the front entrance. Since I’ve been here last, she’s put a jingle bell on the door and has started bringing plants and placing them in little containers near the window. There’s a new stack of shelves waiting to be mounted to the wall and a new box containing god knows what in the corner.
“Hi, how’s it going?”
She’s wearing the baggy overalls with the snug white teeagain. She’s up on tiptoe with her back to me as she stretches to position a shelf and mark the wall for where she wants it to hang.
Drawn by the urge to help her, I come up behind her. Even though I’m still uncomfortable from that damn rash, I’m fighting the desire to grip her waist. The gap at the front of the denim is like an invitation to slip my hand underneath and see just how baggy those overalls are.
Instead, I reach up to hold the shelf for her. “Here, let me hold it, and you tell me where you want it.”
She startles and steps back into me, her lush ass pressing right into my groin. She fits me perfectly. My brain immediately goes to her bent over the nearby table. Or with her back up against the wall.
“Sorry.” The breathless apology as she spins from under my outstretched arm lets me know that maybe her mind went there too.
I haven’t seen her since she took care of me, though we’ve talked on the phone and texted a couple of times. I don’t know why today, I’m filled with an intense desire to touch her.
I blame sleep deprivation.
“How’s Charlie?” It’s best I get myself focused back on my priorities. I can’t let this stupid crush I have on Jules derail the fact that Ineedher right now. This is more than us helping each other out. The stakes are too high for me to fuck it up by acting like a rutting teenager, no matter how much I’d like to see her naked and writhing under me.
“She’s good. She was a happy girl when I dropped her off this morning. Rowan and River were up and playing when I got there, and she ditched me immediately.”
“That’s good, right?”
The corner of her mouth quirks up, and my attentionimmediately shifts to those pretty lips. No gloss or lipstick. Just full pink kissable lips.
And I do not need to be thinking about her lips.
“Yeah. A happy baby is the goal.”
I swallow reflexively and turn away. A couple of measurements later, and I’m ready to install the shelf. The weight of her stare is a physical caress the entire time I work.
“You’re doing a great job, Cal.” Her words are soft, but they deliver such a punch, a breath of air gushes from me before I can catch it.
Focusing on the task at hand, I admit, “I don’t want to fuck this up. She deserves so much better than…” The words trail off, dying as the honesty of what I didn’t say hangs in the air.
“So much better than what?”
I close my eyes. “Me.”
I don’t want to turn around and face her, so I finish hanging the shelf and step back.
