Authors: Angela Verdenius
“Wouldn’t the gossipers have a field day over that?”
“Or you could call Yvonne or Rachel.”
“Or I could smack that smirk off your face.”
“Who says I’m smirking?”
“I can hear it in your voice.” Leaning on the counter, Dee watched the cat lick her lips before taking several dainty laps of water from the water bowl. “Hey, did you know Ryder has a pregnant cat?”
“Are you kidding me? Ryder?”
“I’m looking at her right now. Round as a barrel.”
“Are you serious?”
“As serious as finding her in bed beside Ryder, a litter tray in the laundry, water and food bowls in the kitchen, and a crap load of gourmet cat food in the pantry.”
“Do the others know?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t sent out a public bulletin yet.” Dee smiled as the cat started to primly lick one paw.
“Huh. Moira never mentioned a cat.”
“Why would she?”
“I’m just saying. After all the shit Ryder gives Scott about Tilly, he has a cat. That’s
pregnant
.”
“Obviously a bit of a slut like her owner.”
“Man slut and kitty slut. So wrong and yet so right.”
“They do say owners tend to look like their animals.”
“Ryder doesn’t look anything like a cat.”
“No, but they obviously both have the same shagging behaviour.”
“Well, there you go. So, how long do you think you’ll be staying at Ryder’s?”
“I don’t know that I’m staying-”
“Of course you are. You’re looking after him.”
“I’m here now but-”
“Pete’s enjoying chatting to the customers. He’s saving for a cruise with his wife, did you know that?”
“No.”
“Yeah. Got the cruise paid for, actually, this money he’s making working for you is going towards spending. You know pensioners can’t afford a lot, so this is a Godsend for him.”
“He could have told me that himself. I would have found some extra work for him, taken a day or two off here and there.”
“He’s too proud.” Del paused. “Kind of like someone else I know.”
“Ha ha.”
“So anyway, while you’re off playing Good Samaritan, something came in the mail for you.”
“You’re checking my mail?”
“Pete had it on the corner of the counter. I happened to notice this black envelope sticking out with your name on it.”
“A black envelope?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you see my name on it?”
“I looked.”
“No, dim wit. What kind of pen can write on black?”
“Oh, easy. Someone wrote your name on a white sticker and stuck it on there.” Del laughed. “Not such a dim wit now, huh?”
“You or the person who picked a black envelope?”
“Look, I have a lot of people lining up to insult me, you’ll have to wait your turn. Would you like me to drop this envelope off to you?”
“Why? I’ll be home soon.”
“Huh.” There was silence for several seconds before Del added, “Okay. See you then.”
Dee was left with the phone receiver to her ear and no one on the other end. Her cousin had hung up.
Shaking her head, Dee looked at the piece of cardboard stuck up on the wall under the phone. Listed on it were the names and phone numbers of his family. She went down the list.
Mr and Mrs Montague, aka Mum and Dad - away. Moira - rather not get too intimately involved with sickness. Rhett - married with a young baby, not a good choice to look after Flu Man. Aunt May - not too well herself. Aunt Faith - wait, she’d moved to a nursing home. Aunt Rose - oh, now there was a thought. She thought the sun shone out of the backsides of her niece and nephews. She’d be over here like a shot to look after her darling Ryder.
And no doubt insist on looking after him during the day as well. That made Dee morose. She liked looking after him. Once Aunt Rose walked in it would be over.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. No sense mooning over a sick man. Sick or well, he wasn’t interested in Dee as anything more than a friend. To linger and wipe his brow when a member of his own family could do it seemed stupid. Kind of like being a perv, getting her jollies by touching him while he was half naked. Or fully naked.
Feeling suddenly hot and bothered at the memory, Dee rubbed her face and reached for the phone. This wasn’t the time to moon over a sick man. It made sense for a member of his family to care for him. Perfect sense.
Aunt Rose’s phone was engaged. By the time Dee tried for the fourth time, she was starting to wonder if she should try someone else. Simon, maybe.
When Aunt Rose finally answered, she sounded hoarse. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mrs Waverton, this is Dee-”
“Oh, thank God.” Cough cough. “I hear poor Ryder is unwell with flu.” Cough. “I can’t come and take care of him because I’m sick as well.”
Whoo hoo!
“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It makes me feel so much better to know that poor little Ryder won’t be alone.” Cough.
Poor little Ryder was zonked out in bed and wouldn’t have a clue who was wiping his brow. “He’s a big boy, you kn-”
“Nothing worse than waking up all alone, feeling so sick, no one around to help. He’s a lucky man to have you.”
Now Dee was feeling worried. “Mrs Waverton, who’s looking after you?”
“My husband, of course.”
“Of course. Sorry.” Mental head slap.
Cough. “I better go, dear. Thank you so much for looking after that poor boy.” Cough.
The phone went dead.
Hanging up the receiver, Dee tried to stop the little grin that flirted around her lips. It wasn’t funny that Aunt Rose was sick but it meant that she had an excuse to look after Ryder.
“I’m such a sad sap,” she told the cat.
The cat blinked and trotted out of the room.
Dee followed to the doorway in time to see her disappear into the spare bedroom where Ryder rested. Moving down the hallway, she peeked in to see him stirring, one hand reaching above the sheet to stroke the cat, who purred and settled against his hip.
Crossing the room, Dee looked down to where Ryder groggily looked up at her.
“Dee?” he queried.
“Yep. Feel up to a bit of soup?”
“Yeah. I guess.” He blinked, reached for a tissue.
“I’ll be right back.”
Returning with a mug of soup, she sat beside his knees on the bed as he struggled to an upright position, leaning his back against the headboard.
Hmmm, if any of his female flings could see him now. Red nose, bleary eyes, nasally, chin all stubbly…and still too damned roguishly handsome for someone who should look as crappy as they sounded.
“Thanks.” Taking the mug from her, he took a sip. “It’s nice.”
“Mum’s recipe. Vermicelli soup, nice and fine so you can drink it easily.”
He took a few more mouthfuls, glanced around. “Why am I in the spare room?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really.”
“Ah. Well, you were hot and sweaty so you had a shower but I didn’t have time to change your bed linen, so I dumped you in here.”
“Oh. Okay.” He grinned a little. “One bed’s as good as another.”
“You should know. You’ve tested enough of them.”
He coughed, the mug tilting dangerously in his grip. Hastily, Dee placed her hand over his, the fingertips of her other hand coming under the mug to steady it.
“Ta.” He took another sip. “You always could make a beaut soup.” He looked at the bedside drawers. “Where’s my water bottle?”
“Drinking from one of those when you’re sick is a sure way to keep recycling germs.” Leaning forward, she tapped the clean glass filled with water. “Clean glass every time this is emptied.”
For several seconds he looked at the glass before returning his gaze to her. “Okay.”
Man, he must be sick not to argue. Agreeable Ryder wasn’t the norm.
“So, who’s the pregnant cat?”
He rolled his head to the side to look at the cat blinking sweetly up at him. “That’s Jezebel.”
Good grief. Dee started laughing.
Puzzled, he switched his attention back to her. “What?”
“Jezebel.”
He looked blank.
“Seriously, Ryder? You don’t get it?”
He shook his head.
“You’re the Casanova of Gully’s Fall and your pregnant cat is called Jezebel. Tell me you don’t see the similarities.”
It took him several seconds of thought for it to sink into his flu-muddled mind. “Oh.” He grinned a little. “Okay.”
“Man, you really are sick. Drink your soup and go back to sleep. However, before you do, I’ll be right back.” A quick trip to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of cough syrup and measuring cup, and she returned to his bedside.
Measuring out the required amount, she set it on top of the bedside drawers.
Ryder looked at it.
She watched him.
He looked up at her.
“You’re taking it,” she told him.
For a second she thought he was going to argue, but then he sighed, drained the last of the soup from the mug, handed it back to her, tossed the contents of the measuring cup down his throat, dropped the cup into the mug and flopped back down in the bed, gazing up at her with a resigned expression.
“Okay,” she said, “you just shocked the shit out of me.”
“I know when I’m beat. I’m too sick to fight you.”
Dee smiled. “Yes. Yes, you are.”
“But I will get better.”
“Yep, that’s what the medicine will help you do.”
Rolling onto his side, he tucked his arm under his head in a pose that should have looked sweet but instead was wholly masculine. It made his biceps bulge impressively. His eyes started to flutter shut.
Aw, poor bugger. He looked a little helpless. Refraining from her first instinct to push the rebellious lock of dark hair back from his brow, she picked up the mug and started from the room.
“Babe.”
Pausing in the doorway, she glanced back at him. “Yeah, Ryder?”
His eyes remained shut. “I won’t be sick forever.”
“No.”
“I won’t forget you caught me at a weak moment.”
For a horrible instance she thought he meant having him naked in the shower. Uh oh. Maybe he remembered it after all.
“Dee?”
“Yeah?” She almost croaked it.
“Revenge is sweet.”
Oh, thank God. Her shoulders sagged. “Right.”
“I mean it.”
Relieved that he didn’t remember the shower scene, she straightened her shoulders. “Promises, promises. I’m so scared.”
“You ought to be, babe.”
Before returning to the kitchen, she glanced back at him. His eyes were shut, his chest moving as he breathed deeply, a slight cough making him shake a little, but there was a definite small quirk of his lips.
Smiling, she walked away.
~*~
So the slut looked like she was staying the night, playing the concerned friend, the caring nurse. Using people to get what she wanted.
The engine started, the ute pulling onto the road and driving away as the blinds were drawn down behind the house windows to hide the lights that came on in the kitchen and lounge.
~*~
Staggering to the bathroom, Ryder looked into the mirror. Man, he looked like shit. Puffy eyes, red nose. Not a good look. But at least his nose wasn’t running as much, no doubt due to the night time cold and flu tablets Dee had made him take.
Grabbing his toothbrush, he scrubbed his teeth, washing the sour taste from his mouth before splashing water on his face. Straightening, he dried his face and dropped the towel onto the basin.
Didn’t look any better, didn’t really feel any better.
Staggering into the kitchen, he took a fresh glass from the cupboard and poured icy water into it, downing it in several gulps before rinsing the glass and leaving it upside down on the draining board.
Heading back to the spare room, he glanced into the lounge, doing a double-take when he saw the mound on the sofa.
Jesus, surely that wasn’t Dee sleeping on the sofa?
Turning into the lounge, he crossed to the sofa to see her lying on it, her head pillowed on a cushion. She was fast asleep, the small lamp on the table still burning, casting shadows in the room. A book she’d been reading had slid to the floor. Her shoes lay discarded under the coffee table, but she remained fully dressed.
He’d thought she’d left long ago, he’d never expected her to stay.
Shit, she’d stayed to look after him. It hadn’t been a simple come in, make some soup, change his bed linen and then go home. She’d actually stayed to look after him.