Page 6 of Outback Mate
I can’t just sit in my car. The metal cage is growing hotter and hotter under the sun’s scorching rays. I’d bake like an idiotin there. I move to the other side of the car, and sit on the unforgiving ground, sheltering in the only available shade.
“I’ve gone and done it now, haven’t I?” I mumble at the small lump snuggled against me.
The Outback heat is like nothing I’ve experienced before. It’s unrelenting and oppressive in its ferocity. I’m used to the cloying humidity in the coastal city, the kind that presses your skin like a wet blanket. This is dry heat. The air is wicked of any moisture, and it scorches my throat with each breath.
My clothes are clinging to my back with perspiration in minutes and my skin turns bright red as the unforgiving sun beats down on me.
My head is thumping painfully, a deep, bruising sort of headache that makes me feel nauseous. My neck hurts to turn and my shoulder has a red welt from the seat belt.
The small critter on my chest moves restlessly, and I reach down to stroke him softly, cooing.
“I’m here. We’re in this together now.”
I try to encourage the joey to drink. I have no idea what baby kangaroos need to survive, but he has to be thirsty. I unscrew my water bottle and hold it to his snout. His tiny pink tongue flicks out and catches a drop of water.
He relaxes and snuggles deeper into his pouch.
“Yeah, you’re tired, little buddy? That makes two of us.”
The heat saps all energy from my body, and I slump into the side of the car, stretching my legs out in front of me.
My head is pounding and my eyes heavy.
I blink slowly.
My vision is going black, and the only thing I can think is: my aura sickness finally killed me. It wasn’t even a hotdog related accident like I predicted.
I’m going to perish from being an incurable unlucky airhead.
Chapter Two
Doc
My patient has gas and a really overprotective mate.
“Is she in labour? Is something wrong? Is the baby healthy?” Ben Cunningham rattles off his questions without waiting for my reply. His cowboy boots beat a rapid rhythm against the porch as he paces.
His Omega mate June is eight and a half months pregnant with their first child, and it’s bringing out his protective instincts.
Ben was coming into his Alpha status when I left for university, but we’ve become closer in the time since June joined our little community. I’ve gotten to know them as a couple during their pregnancy.
I’m happy for the Alpha and Omega. They both endured terrible cases of aura sickness, and finding their mate saved their lives.
While their aura sickness symptoms have mostly abated, their underlying personalities are still the same.
June is still quiet and shy.
Ben is still dominant and protective.
Sure, it’s sweet seeing an Alpha so obsessed with the wellbeing of his mate, but I didn’t have to make the long drive out to their cattle station for what is obviously gas. This is usually my nurse Matilda’s job to travel to the members of the Bodella community, but she’s away at a rodeo with her mate Murphy, so it’s fallen on me to make house calls.
“They’re both healthy. I’m taking some blood for tests, to be sure.”
June gives me a pained smile. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here, Doc. I tried to tell him.”
I give her my most reassuring smile and set up to take her blood. I don’t dare touch her without wordlessly asking Ben first. The Alpha is so high-strung he’d punch me for touching his mate without a good reason.
“It’s fine. You’re in your last few weeks, so it’s better to be safe than sorry. Keep taking it easy and stay hydrated. We’ll do a full checkup at the surgery during your appointment next week, but everything looks on schedule.”
