I look at Wes, who hesitates but doesn’t take the time to correct her. Maybe it’s because he’s too tired to bother, or maybe because he’s pretending we’re together too, like I am.
I grab Wes’s coat, taking it to him once the nurse leaves.
“Thanks again,” he tells me.
“You’re welcome. You look better already.”
I text Quinn as we’re walking out, letting her know Wes is on the mend and is heading home. Logan is at the house along with Owen. They’re both wearing jeans and gray T-shirts, making it hard to tell them apart.
Jackson has his play doctor kit out on the coffee table and immediately leads Weston to the couch for a check-up.
“Did you mean to dress alike?” I ask the twins, going right to the bathroom to wash the hospital germs off my hands.
Logan and Owen look at each other and then down at their own clothes.
“I didn’t even realize it,” Logan admits with a laugh. “It’s a twin thing, I guess.”
“That’s funny and very interesting at the same time.” I join everyone in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch. Wes bends his legs up, giving me more space.
“Well,” Owen says, giving his twin a look. Logan widens his eyes and ever so slightly shakes his head. “You’re in good hands here. We gotta head out and get the bar ready for tonight.”
“Thanks, guys,” Wes says, sounding like he’s about ready to fall asleep again.
“No problem.” Logan gives Jackson a hug goodbye. “Take care of your dad, okay?”
“I will,” Jackson promises.
“Thanks for looking out for Wes,” Owen tells me quietly before they leave. Jackson cuddles up with Weston on the couch, and I slip upstairs for a quick shower. When I get out, I hear voices coming from downstairs. I pause by my bedroom door, recognizing Mrs. Dawson’s voice. Towel drying my hair, I quickly get dressed and go downstairs.
Wes is still on the couch, looking tired and a little annoyed by his mother’s presence. She’s fussing over him, taking his temperature and removing the blanket Jackson had covered him with.
“Hi, Mrs. Dawson,” I say.
“Scarlet, hi.” She stands, setting a Tupperware bowl on the coffee table. She comes over and gives me a hug. “Thank you so much for making my stubborn son go to the doctor.”
“You’re welcome. I wanted him to go yesterday, but he swore he’d be better.”
“I would have been,” Wes counters, and I laugh. Mrs. Dawson looks from Wes to me and back again.
“I brought chicken noodle soup. Is anyone hungry? I can heat it up.”
“I am, Grammy!” Jackson exclaims but makes no move to get up and away from the cartoons he’s watching. Mrs. Dawson goes into the kitchen, and I move closer to Wes.
“Make her leave,” he whispers.
“She’s just worried.”
Wes rolls his eyes. “I have the flu, not a rare jungle disease. I’ll be fine, really.” He sighs. “I’m tired.”
My heart lurches in my chest, and I want nothing more than to crawl under the blanket with him, run my hands up and down his muscular arms until he falls asleep.
“I’ll try to speed things up,” I promise.
“Thanks.”
Going into the kitchen, I plug in the coffee pot.
“Tired, honey?” Mrs. Dawson asks.
“Yes. I was worried about Wes and didn’t sleep much through the night,” I admit before I realize how that sounds. He’s my boss.
Instead of looking shocked, Mrs. Dawson’s face lights up. “I’m glad you’re here for him.”
“For Jackson?”
“For them both.” She takes the lid off the Tupperware. “Weston’s always been the strong, responsible one. The last few years haven’t been easy on him, though he’ll never admit it. It’s nice seeing him happy again.”
Is she saying what I think she’s saying? “Well, I’m sure it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about Jackson’s schedule as much anymore.”
Mrs. Dawson gives me a wink. “Sure. That’s all it is.”
Yes, she is saying what I think she’s saying. And dammit, I want it to be true. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Scarlet
“You could take another day off,” I tell Wes, looking up from Jackson’s bed. I’m stripping the sheets and replacing them with new ones. Wes slept pretty much all day after we got home from the hospital and took it easy the next day. Now he’s ready for a long day of work.
“I don’t need to,” he tells me, leaning against the door frame. “I don’t have a fever anymore. And you and Jackson are fine, so the virus is gone.”
“Don’t you dare jinx us. Those things can lay dormant for days.”
“If you get sick, I’ll take care of you.”
The elastic slips out of my fingers, and the fitted sheet pops off the mattress. Heat rushes through me, and my pussy quivers at the thought of him taking care of me. Yesterday, the three of us lounged around and watched movies for most of the day. It was more than just nice.
It was perfect.
Well, except how fucking horny Weston makes me. We get along. He makes me laugh. And I want him so bad I’m going to have to change my underwear the moment he leaves. My body craves him, making it physically hard to not touch him when we’re near.
Just to see what will happen.
He kissed me once. I’m sure he’ll do it again.
I kneel on the mattress, bending forward to stick the corner of the fitted sheet back on. My ass is in Weston’s direct line of sight, and part of me hopes I’m driving him as wild as he drives me.
Because this is really un-fucking-fair.
“I’m sure you will,” I say in a tight voice. “Though if I do get sick, it’ll be your fault, for one, bringing home the virus, and two, having just jinxed me like a minute ago.”
Wes laughs and steps in, grabbing the other end of the sheet. He helps me make the bed and gathers up the laundry Jackson left on the floor. He adds it to the laundry basket in the closet.
I could sit back and watch him clean all day.
“When will you be home?” I ask, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.
“Around nine.”
“Okay. I’ll keep a plate of dinner in the fridge for you.”
“Thanks.”
He’s in uniform, looking hot with his hair pulled back. The color is back to his face, and he looks better. Though a proper inspection is probably a good idea. “Hot in Here” plays in my head again as I imagine him stripping naked in front of me. I’m getting so wound up and sexually frustrated. I need to stop.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Right,” I say. “Tonight.”
“Time for bed, buddy,” I tell Jackson, eyeing the time.
“Aww man,” he says, throwing his head back. “But we just got the farm all set up.”
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s leave it out until morning and we can play again after breakfast.”