Sighing, she put the lid back on the saucepan, checking the gas height before crossing to the door to check on the cat in the back yard. Moving out onto the veranda, she leaned against a post.
When Moira had come into the newsagent and told her Ryder had the lurgies, she hadn’t thought much of it, but then Simon had arrived not long after and the concern in his eyes had made her almost lock to attention.
“He’s sick,” Simon had informed her bluntly.
“How sick?”
“Cranky sick.”
“He gets like that.”
“Won’t take medicine.”
“His Mum always had to fight to get him to take medicine, stubborn idiot that he is.”
“He’s got the flu.”
“It’s going around apparently.”
“He’s got no one to look after him.”
“His Mum-”
“His parents are away and his sister isn’t good with sick people.”
“Damn.” Dee frowned. “He’s really sick?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll go check him.”
“Good.” He smiled and dropped a set of keys on the counter. “These are to his house. I know you’ll do a great job looking after him.” He’d walked straight out the door.
She stared after him for several seconds, amazed that he could think that when most people would have laughed their arses off at the thought of her looking after a sick Ryder.
Still, who gave a flying fig what anyone thought. Ryder was sick and alone, and she wasn’t going to leave him like that. The most she could do was go and check up on him.
Picking up the phone, she rang Pete, a pensioner who earned a bit of money for her now and again as a casual worker. He didn’t want permanent work, she didn’t need a permanent worker, and their arrangement suited them both. He filled in for her when needed, such as when she was sick, which was rare, or had a few days off.
Pete was more than happy to fill in for the afternoon so as soon as he arrived and parked himself behind the counter, raring for a gossip with any customer who walked in, Dee went upstairs, grabbed her car keys and drove to the house Ryder rented from his parents.
Going inside, she noticed the windows were all shut, the house stuffy. Keeping the wooden door open, she’d gone in search of Ryder.
Lying on his back in bed, the doona rumpled, his cheeks flushed, sweat beaded on his brow, he looked exactly what he was - a handsome, roguish devil, sick, helpless and in need of some TLC.
Then she spotted the cat lying on the other side of the bed. It was a beautiful tortoiseshell cat, streaks of mottled ginger and black, no white on her at all. Her coat was smooth, slightly long in the tail. And her belly was round. Really round. That wasn’t caused by food.
Dee looked at the cat.
The cat looked back at her with wide eyes.
When had Ryder gotten a pregnant cat?
A sound came from him and she switched her attention to the man in the bed. His head tossed a little fretfully on the pillow as he muttered.
Careful to move slowly, she spoke soothingly to the cat while she advanced. As soon as she got close to the bed, the cat jumped down and headed out the door.
Leaning over Ryder, she placed her hand on his damp cheek. “Ryder?” When he didn’t answer, she slid her hand to his forehead, feeling the heat. “It’s me.”
His lashes had lifted slowly to show his beautiful dark blue eyes but they were unfocussed, his gaze roaming over her face as he frowned a little. He looked a little dreamy, actually, and she wondered if he was the kind of lucky person who even when sick had pleasant dreams.
Knowing Ryder, it was probably a sex dream. Well, unfortunately, there were other things more important right now.
Ryder’s eyes focussed, a slight frown creasing his brow. Looked like he was waking up.
She might want to cuddle close to him, soothe his brow, but she knew the way to handle a sick Ryder wasn’t by being sweet. She’d known him a long time. The man was stubborn as hell when he was sick, so she had to establish the ground rules from the word go.
“Heard you were being a dumb arse,” Dee announced. “I’m here to sort you out.”
It had pretty much gone as expected for a short time, then had turned weird, and then - well, weirder. Not once had she ever imagined she’d have a naked Ryder at her mercy.
God, she should feel like a sick perv for even noticing his body. She’d meant to leave him to shower himself, not have to kick off her sandals and get in the tub, strip him naked and wash him. Everywhere. But she had, and now it was burned into her brain like someone had taken a branding iron and shoved it through her skull right into the grey matter.
Ryder was gorgeous. All over.
She’d seen his bare chest before, the small hoop in his right nipple, the black sun tattoo on the swell of his left pec, those long, muscular legs, those broad shoulders, the impressive six pack, the swell of strong biceps and triceps, but Jesus, she’d never seen him naked. Those tight, muscular buttocks and the front of him - oh Lord, just the memory was enough to make her almost hyperventilate.
The man was built, no doubt about. His shaft was impressive even unaroused. She’d looked up at him from her kneeling position at his feet, taken him in, the glory of Ryder leaning back in all his naked splendour. No wonder the ex-girlfriends vied to have him back. She’d heard the rumours, most every female had, but to see the real thing, touch the real thing… Sight was way better than imagination.
But she wasn’t a complete perv. She’d washed him with professional objectivity, didn’t linger where she wanted to, dried and dressed him in clean boxers, gotten him into bed in the spare room and settled him with a cold drink.
Okay, shoot her for being a little unprofessional, she had kissed him on the forehead. She couldn’t help it, he’d looked so vulnerable lying there sick yet still so handsome, reminding her of the time he’d tumbled back into bed as a drunk teenager, all goofish but so bloody good-looking it had made girls way older than him fall into his bed once he started shagging around the countryside.
He’d kissed her cheeks heaps of times over the years, even the top of her head. Only once had he kissed her lips, and he’d forgotten it. Hadn’t even been aware he’d done it, but by God she’d never forgotten. Ever. It had been the biggest changing element in her life that had made everything between them so different.
On her side, anyway, because the dumb arse didn’t remember. And she loved him too much to push him away, to walk away. His every smile, his laughter, his teasing, his cocky winks, she soaked it all in like a thirsty woman being given sips of iced water.
Just as his dating other women cut her like a hot knife through butter, but to be fair, it wasn’t his fault all the feelings were on her side alone. Ryder would be horrified to think he hurt her so much, so unknowingly, but she couldn’t help the little bit of resentment that raised its head now and again as her heart silently screamed What about me? Look at me. Please just look at me and see me.
Like that was ever going to happen. As far as he was concerned she was a childhood friend, one of his mates, and a good sport he could tease, yell and laugh both with and at. He even found her sharp comments amusing, she knew that for a fact as well. It was why he didn’t mind baiting her at times, and equally why she didn’t mind being so cutting in return. Plus the fact that, hey, she did have a sharp tongue, it was just her.
“Doesn’t matter,” she murmured, watching as Jezebel eyed her from the protection of a daisy bush. “I’d rather have him as a close friend than not at all.”
It didn’t make her feel any better, but it was what it was, as her mother often liked to quote when her children were younger and whining about something they couldn’t have - and she said it to them still.
However, Ryder was now asleep, his temperature had come down a little, and she had his pregnant cat watching her suspiciously from the daisies. The pregnant cat was now the issue.
Sitting on the
veranda step, she spoke softly to the cat. “Okay, so Ryder got himself a cat. I can’t believe it. When he’s well enough I’m going to tease the living crap out of him every chance I can, but right now, kitty-koo, you need to learn to trust me because I’m your chef.” She held down one hand and fluttered her fingers. “Come here, baby. Come on. I won’t hurt you.”
The cat watched closely, ears pricked and swivelling from side to side.
“Come and let me pat you. Who’s a pretty kitty, huh? Who’s a cute little piece? Figures even Ryder’s cat would be a hussy,” she added with a wry twist of her lips. “And a female. The man attracts them like bees to honey.”
It took a further five minutes of gentle coaxing before the cat trotted forward a couple of feet. She stopped, sniffed the air, checked her surroundings and eyed Dee.
“You really are pretty,” Dee cooed, and meant it. She liked cats generally, had often thought of getting one to live with her, she just hadn’t gotten around to actually doing it. “You’re probably the smartest decision dumb arse ever made in the female stakes.”
Another ten minutes passed before the cat finally sniffed Dee’s fingers and warily allowed her to lightly touch along her head.
Dee seized the opportunity, slipping her finger tips down to massage behind the cat’s ears, managing to smother a laugh when the cat’s eyes immediately went all dreamy. A few more minutes of massaging and stroking down the cat’s spine and the cat was happily sitting beside her, purring and flicking her ears, tail waving lazily.
She’d forgotten how nice it was to have a cat, how restful to sit and enjoy the sunshine and quiet.
Finally Dee rose slowly to her feet, careful not to startle the cat. As she walked back into the house, the cat followed, crossing to sit in front of an empty food dish.
Taking the hint, Dee investigated the pantry again, her amusement growing at the sight of gourmet cat food that lined the bottom shelf. Geez, Ryder must have bought every can of expensive cat food Will had in his supermarket. Almost everything was in gravy or juices, and there were even small cans of human tuna and salmon. The biscuits were a fancy brand from the veterinary clinic.
“Well, he always does look after his latest flings,” she told the cat, adding, “But you’re obviously not a passing fancy, you lucky, fluffy sheila. I’m just curious what he’s going to do with that belly full of kittens when they come.”
The cat’s eyes were glued to the tin Dee held in her hand, and with a laugh she popped the lid and spooned the contents into the bowel. The cat fell onto it like a starving man.
Checking the soup, she found it cooked to her satisfaction and turned it off, leaving the lid on the sink. About to grab a soup mug, she instead detoured to the phone as it rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Del,” she replied, recognising her cousin’s voice.
“Heard you’re playing nursie to Ryder.”
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
There was a noticeable pause before Del replied, “I think it’s sweet.”
“Del, I don’t do sweet.”
"And yet there you are wiping his little brow and making him soup.”
“I did the soup.”
“What about the wiping the brow bit?”
No, I washed his bat and balls and nearly hyperventilated. “Sure, I smoothed his little brow.”
“That a girl. Now, anything you need?”
“Nope. It’s all good.”
“What about tonight?”
“What about tonight?”
“Who’s staying with him during the night?”
Huh. Dee raised her eyebrows as she considered the question. “Didn’t think of that.”
“Are you staying?”
“I guess I can call in Moira.”
Del laughed. “Can she sleep with a mask on?”
“Okay. One of his Aunties.”
“Or you could just stay yourself, seeing as you’ve already been exposed to the flu.”
“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 mor
ose. 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.
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