“No, wait. Ow, ow. There are needles in my back. Ow.” Teddy wasn’t wearing the thick jean jacket from earlier in the day, and her soft sweatshirt wasn’t much protection against the sharp claws of the ginger kitten climbing her back. He was growing fast and wasn’t the tiny tyke he’d been the first time he clawed his way up her pants leg. His hind claws dug in as he propelled himself up to perch on her shoulder. “Brat,” she said.
Britt chuckled. “You and I, little boy, need to talk about your timing.”
The kitten swiped a paw at Britt, and Teddy laughed, too. “I think he’s jealous.” She gazed into Britt’s eyes, suddenly feeling shy. They both looked away, then shared sideways glances and small smiles.
Teddy’s ears burned, but she took some satisfaction that Britt’s also were practically a red beacon in the semi-light. God, they were grown women who were acting like schoolgirls crushing on each other. She needed to do something to keep busy, or her lips would be right back on Britt’s, and if that happened, she’d be crawling into Britt’s lap and undressing her. Teddy dragged the resisting kitten from his perch, then gave him a good rub to apologize for the relocation. Maybe she ought to name him Velcro. She stood and set him on the floor. “We should head back.”
Britt accepted the hand Teddy offered to pull her to her feet. “I am pretty tired.”
Teddy closed the barn door as they left because neither wanted to let go of their entwined hands. The night was silent as they walked, but Teddy’s brain wasn’t. She pushed all thoughts aside…except for the kiss. She released Britt’s hand and wrapped her arm around Britt’s waist, pulling her even closer as they walked. Britt didn’t look at her but smiled and mirrored her action.
They found themselves on the porch, at the door all too soon, and Teddy turned to block Britt’s path. God, she wanted one more taste. She wanted the warmth that blossomed in her belly. She wanted to ignore all the reasons this was a very bad idea. And she did just that, pulling Britt’s head down for another scorching kiss that made her shiver.
“Are you cold?” Britt whispered against Teddy’s lips.
“Just the opposite,” Teddy whispered back. She stepped back and opened the door.
In silent agreement, they parted. Teddy led the way through the kitchen and up the stairs. At the top, Britt caught her hand again and pulled her close. This kiss was light and gentle—a brush of lips, a pause, and another light touch—assurance there was no regret. It wasn’t late, but the day had started very early. Tomorrow would also dawn early, as usual.
“Good night, Teddy.”
Teddy touched Britt’s cheek, then backed away. She wasn’t ready for more and thought she sensed the same in Britt.
“Good night, Britt.”
* * *
The day dawned gray and rainy.
E.B. was in the kitchen at six as usual, but he frowned every time he cast a look outside. Britt was conspicuously absent as Teddy poured coffee for herself and topped off E.B.’s mug. She was about to ask if she should go up and see if Britt had overslept, when boots stomping across the porch drew her attention. Britt stood in the open doorway, toeing off Wellington boots caked with mud.
“I told Ernie we’d wait a day to start transporting the yearlings. This rain is supposed to move out by tomorrow.” Her brow drawn into a scowl, she offered only a hint of a smile when she looked up at Teddy. “Damned weather. I woke up with a headache.” She rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “It’s probably sinus.”
Teddy handed her a mug of coffee. “Sit and eat.”
E.B. slid a plate of soft-fried eggs with biscuits and sausage gravy in front of Britt, and Teddy was surprised to see Britt sit without protest. Teddy accepted her own plate from E.B., and they joined Britt at the table.
“We can look over the rest of those scores this afternoon, after you get rid of that headache,” E.B. said to Britt. “I know you’ve got your therapy this morning, and I can use the time to catch up on track gossip.”
“Okay,” Britt said, not looking up from the food she was moving around on her plate.
Teddy watched as Britt shoved a forkful of biscuit and gravy into her mouth, then held her coffee mug up to inhale the steam. Her face was flushed, and her shoulders slumped. Teddy also noticed this was the first morning since she got the new harness that she’d come to breakfast with an empty sleeve rather than wearing the prosthetic arm.
“Have you taken anything for your headache?” Teddy asked.
“I got up about two o’clock and took some Tylenol, but I think it’s wearing off. Maybe I need a decongestant.”
“Are your sinuses stuffy?”
“Not really.” Britt’s flushed face paled, and she slid her chair back, then dashed to the half-bath off the kitchen.
E.B. looked at Teddy as they listened to Britt retch behind the hastily closed door. “I’ll take care of the dishes,” he said. “You see if you can get her upstairs.”
“Okay. I want to check her arm. Infections can develop and go sour quickly. She finished her antibiotic more than a week ago. Maybe we need a second round.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.”
Teddy smiled at the worry in his eyes. “I will. These small setbacks aren’t uncommon. I’ll get a doctor out here if I think she needs one.” Teddy stood and put her plate in the sink when she heard the toilet flush. “Duty calls.”
* * *
“There is a slight redness and increased swelling of her residual limb, but not more than I’d expect, considering the length of time she wore the prosthesis yesterday.” Teddy adjusted her laptop to better center her image on the video conference call with Tom and Will. “She was exposed to an unusual number of people during the yearling inspection yesterday and could have easily picked up something from one of them. I’m crossing my fingers it’s just a twenty-four-hour virus.”
“Just to be safe, I’d like another round of antibiotic prescribed,” Will said. “An infection in that residual limb could set the project back months.”
“Do you have any meds you might need there?” Tom asked.
“All I’ve got in my kit is penicillin, which she’s allergic to. But I have plenty of nausea meds and several bags of saline if she becomes dehydrated.”
“I’ll get an antibiotic delivered out there today,” Tom said, typing on his keyboard.
“Capsules for when her stomach settles, but can you send me a cocktail of antibiotic and fever-reducer, too, in case I need to get it into her through an IV?”
Tom tapped out the order on his keyboard. “Done. I’ll send it as soon as the pharmacy has it filled.”
“Otherwise, is her rehab on schedule?” Will asked.
“She’s been much more receptive since progressing to a functioning prosthesis. Britt adapts very quickly. It’s getting hard to keep her from jumping ahead in the rehab schedule.”
“Has she signed the consent forms for the project?” Will’s face grew larger, his eyes intense as he leaned toward the webcam.
Teddy shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t pressed her yet. Britt’s not someone you can push. I’ll ask when the time is right.”
Tom nodded. “I trust you to know when.” He looked off camera when an indistinguishable male voice sounded. “I’ve got a meeting. Good luck, Teddy. I’ll find someone to bring that antibiotic out to you today.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m out, too,” Will said. “Email me any updates, but feel free to call my cell if our patient gets worse.”
“I will. Thank you.” Teddy signed off and looked around the room they’d turned into a rehab station. She knew she sounded confident and on top of everything while on the conference call, but it had been an act for her commanding officer.
Britt’s fever was higher than she’d like, even after she’d managed to finally keep a couple of acetaminophen tablets down long enough for them to dissolve. Whether they’d stayed in her stomach long enough to absorb was another question.
Then
there was the kiss. Teddy stared at the treatment table under the window where Britt usually reclined while having her scar treated. Teddy could see the brilliant blue of Britt’s eyes in the sunlight as if she were lying on that table right now. Teddy’s gut clenched at the image, and she closed her eyes to steady herself. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed, even slept with other women since Shannon. Only a few. A one-night stand. Another grieving widow who understood what she felt. And one attempt at actually dating that ended badly. Britt’s kiss, though, had built a fire in her the others hadn’t. Teddy mentally shook herself. She needed to get out of her own head.
Teddy rose and slipped down the hallway to the bedroom where Britt, eyes closed and face flushed with fever, was reclined on a pile of pillows and tucked under a thick Sherpa comforter. The small trash can next to the bed stank of vomit. Britt had been sick again while Teddy had been on the conference call. She tied off the can’s liner and lifted it out, then dropped in a fresh one.
“Sorry,” Britt said without opening her eyes.
Teddy placed the vomit bag in the hallway to take downstairs later for disposal, then returned to Britt’s bedside. “Nothing to be sorry about. Your aim was very accurate, so the clean-up was easy. I could tell you some real war stories about projectile vomiting, but not while your stomach is still wobbly.” Teddy laid her palm on Britt’s forehead. Hot and clammy. She stuck the digital thermometer in her ear. One hundred and one degrees. Britt’s lips were dry and chapped. She picked up the glass of water on the nightstand. “Can you drink a few sips of this? I’m afraid you’re getting dehydrated.”
Britt shook her head slightly. “Barely hanging on here.” She visibly shivered.
Teddy checked her watch. “Tom is sending a couple of prescriptions out to us, but I’m going to start an IV now and give you something more for nausea.”
“No IV. I need the one hand I have.” Britt barely uttered the words before she rolled to her side and dry-heaved over the trash can.
Teddy calmly walked into the bathroom, wet a clean washcloth, and returned to Britt’s bedside. She laid the cold cloth across Britt’s nape, but Britt grabbed it and wiped her face before rolling back to her previous position on the pillows. Her hand shook slightly as she positioned the cloth across her forehead, above her closed eyes.
“If you won’t let me put an IV in, then I have some suppositories in my med kit.”
Britt cracked open one eye, the single brow lifting in challenge.
Teddy didn’t look away or back down. “Your choice.”
Finally, Britt sighed. “I’m too sick to fight you.” She offered her arm. “Do your worst.”
Teddy laid out the things she needed from her med kit. Britt’s four-poster bed was ideal for hanging the first bag of saline, and she made quick work of inserting the IV, then shooting a dose of anti-nausea medicine into the IV portal. Minutes later, Britt’s face relaxed, and she drifted off to sleep. Teddy retreated to the wingback chair on the other side of the nightstand, pulled the ottoman close, and propped her laptop on her knees to chart the medicine she’d just administered.
* * *
“No! Down. Avery, get down!”
Teddy woke with a start, toppling her laptop to the floor. Britt was thrashing in the bed, tangled in the covers. The IV line whipped back and forth, jerking the bag loose from where it hung on the bedpost. Teddy dove and caught it before it hit the floor, then pinned Britt on the bed to stop her flailing. “Britt, Britt. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
“Fuck. Avery. No, no, no. You didn’t have to do this.” Britt jerked and bowed her back. “Oh, God. Oh fuck. It hurts. Her first. No, no.” Britt’s pleading turned to sobs. “…her…first.”
“Sh-h-h. You’re safe, Britt. You’re home. You’re at Pop’s house in Kentucky. Safe. Home.” Teddy held tight and crooned words she hoped would soothe Britt’s fever-fueled nightmare.
“No. Avery. Don’t. Get down. My fault. My fault.” Britt began to quiet, her sobs and plaintive pleading tearing at Teddy’s heart. Her shouts were mumblings now, and her movements lessened to an occasional jerk of her fingers or shoulders.
Teddy touched Britt’s cheek. Shit. She was burning up. She needed to cool her down. Teddy stood to hang the IV bag, then hesitated. She bent to brush her lips against Britt’s fevered forehead. “Be right back, baby.”
* * *
Teddy nearly barreled into Sen. Brock Story when she rounded the corner to enter the kitchen. He caught her by the arms. “What’s wrong. Where’s Britt?”
It took a moment for Teddy to refocus from her imperative mission—ice packs. “She’s upstairs. Her fever is rising because I haven’t been able to keep any Tylenol in her. I need to make some ice packs.” She looked to Lynn. “Colonel Winstead is sending some medications for her. Can you let me know the minute they arrive?”
Senator Story held up a small paper bag. “I have the medicine. I’d dropped by the hospital and had planned to come out here before heading back to DC, so Tom gave me her meds.”
Teddy took a deep breath in relief. “Thank you.” She took the bag and peered inside to confirm Colonel Winstead had included everything she’d asked for. “I think we still need to try to cool her down.”
“Large ice packs will be out in the stables. I’ll go get some,” Senator Story said.
He was charging outside before Teddy could answer. “Right.”
Lynn shrugged. “Whatever’s keeping those two mad doesn’t matter right now. His moon hangs on that girl upstairs. It always will. I reckon they’ll eventually work it out.” She pointed to a grocery bag on the kitchen table. “He brought enough of her favorite crackers and ginger ale to choke a horse because he called E.B. earlier and found out she had the stomach flu.”
Teddy smiled, but she didn’t have time to linger. “I need to get this upstairs. Can you send him up as soon as he returns with the ice packs?”
“You’ve got it.”
* * *
Teddy sprinted up the stairs, relieved to see Britt hadn’t yanked her IV bag down again. It was getting low, but Tom had also sent a couple of extra bags of saline. She drew the medications quickly and injected them into the IV port. The anti-inflammatory was paired with a low dose of muscle relaxer to help with the aching Teddy knew the fever produced. After a few minutes, Britt visibly relaxed into a less-restless sleep.
“I’ve got the ice packs,” Senator Story said quietly from the door.
Teddy waved him in as she pulled the covers back. Britt was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, the left sleeve leaving the end of her residual limb exposed. She was aware of him staring at Britt’s arm.
The packs were like contained ice trays encased in cloth covers with Velcro straps, handy for wrapping around a horse’s knee or fetlock. She hesitated. “They use these on horses? How clean are they?”
Senator Story let out a snort. “Cleaner than they’d be if they were in the house for human use.” He met Teddy’s eyes. “They’re washed after every use, the covers laundered and even replaced if they contact an open wound. Dad’s high-dollar horses get nothing but the best.”
Teddy let the note of irritation in his voice pass, busying herself with placing the eighteen-inch-long packs against Britt’s sides and draping one over her head like a barrister’s wig. “That and the medicine should get her fever down pretty fast.” She tucked the covers around Britt again, rechecked the IV, and stepped back.
She gestured to the chair she’d occupied before. “Would you like to sit with her for a bit?”
Senator Story glanced at her as if to confirm permission, then ignored the comfortable wingback chair. Instead, he dragged a straight-back wooden desk chair into the space she vacated. He sat, and his shoulders slumped as he rested his hand on the bed where her left hand should have been.
“If you can stay for a few minutes, I’d like to freshen up and grab a sandwich downstairs.” She really did need to pee, and her stomach growled at the thought of one of Lynn’s thick sa
ndwiches. But mostly, she sensed he needed some time alone with his daughter.
“Take your time,” he said, bending forward to brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair from Britt’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Britt felt weak…and wet, as if she’d been drowning and fighting, fighting, fighting to reach the surface and finally crawled onto a sun-baked beach. Her muscles were sore, like when you wake the day after stacking hay bales for the first time. Her eyes were crusty, and she rubbed them carefully to clear her vision. She was in a room of shadows—the closest was the shape of a man straddling a backward chair, his head bowed to rest on his arms crossed atop the chair’s back. Her throat was sore and dry, but better after a few swallows to wet it.
“Dad?”
His head rose, and the figure in the wingback chair nearby sat forward.
“Britt?” He stood and moved the chair out of the way so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Not ready.” She stopped and tried to clear her throat.
Teddy rounded the bed and thrust a glass of water with a straw near her mouth. “Small sips,” Teddy said quietly.
Ignoring the advice, Britt sucked greedily on the straw, then dropped back onto her pillows. “Not ready to report for duty, sir.”
Her father chuckled. “I think you’ll be listed on sick call for a couple of days, soldier. So relax and repair.”
An inadvertent move sent a blaze of fire through her residual limb. Britt instantly found Teddy’s stare. “My arm?”
“A bit swollen and probably tender from wearing the prosthesis too long yesterday, but it’s not why you’re sick. You simply picked up a virus, probably from somebody in the crowd of people here yesterday.”
Britt was relieved. Even though she hadn’t signed up for Teddy’s program yet, she disliked setbacks. She pulled her damp T-shirt away from her body. “I could use a dry shirt. I think I’ve sweated through this one.” She looked to Teddy, who was sitting on the other side of her bed and checking her IV. “Can we take that out now?”
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