Triplets for the Texan (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 5)

She scrunched up her face as she drank the water one tablespoon at a time. “That’s enough,” she said finally.

“How do you feel?”

“Tired. Weird. But not pregnant. Is that bad?” She bit her bottom lip, a telltale sign she was agitated.

He took the glass and set it back on the table. “Of course not. It will be a long time before you start to show, especially because you’ve lost weight already. As far as actually feeling the babies kick, I’d guess that will be weeks from now. So it’s no surprise you don’t feel pregnant. That’s why Mother Nature gives you three trimesters to get used to the idea.”

“I suppose...”

“Can you go back to sleep now?”

She slid back down in the bed and straightened the covers. “I think so.”

“And the nausea?”

“Hardly any right now. Thank you, Hutch.”

He shrugged. “I’m glad the acupressure worked. Sometimes modern medicine looks for answers when they’re right at hand.”

“Right at hand.” She giggled. “Dr. Hutch made a funny. Get it? You held my hands?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been drinking,” he said ruefully.

“I would never do anything so foolish. I’m just giddy with relief that you made the nausea go away, even for an hour. Are there other people in Royal who might know how to do what you did?”

The intent behind her question was obvious. Neither of them thought Hutch should be the one to help her through the terrible sickness produced by her pregnancy. Nevertheless, he spoke the truth. “I doubt it, Simone. Maybe in one of the big cities. But Royal is not exactly a hotbed of ancient Asian medical practice.”

“I see.”

It was impossible to miss the layers of frustration and unease she gave off. “We’ll figure something out,” he promised. “One day at a time.”

She moved restlessly. “I shouldn’t have let you kiss me the other day. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it. I could have stopped.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked softly.

It was a very good question. One he had asked himself a dozen times since. He was a grown-ass man. He knew better than to show weakness to Simone.

“I guess part of me wanted to remember,” he muttered. “But now all I want to do is forget.”

Six

When Simone awoke next, she realized she had slept for six hours straight. Her head was clear, and although she did indeed feel sick again, it wasn’t at the intense level she had experienced recently.

As she stretched and tried to convince herself she could get up and go to the bathroom without incident, a woman in navy scrubs peeked her head around the door. “Ms. Parker? Good, you’re awake. I’m Barb Kellum. Dr. Hutchinson called me and said you needed some help.”

“That would be great,” Simone said. “I’d love to get a shower.”

The nurse smiled. “First things first, young lady. Let’s eat a bit of breakfast and go from there. I brought over some of my homemade chicken broth. Warmed it in the microwave. How does that sound?”

The nurse with the salt-and-pepper hair was midfiftyish, tall and sturdily built. Her eyes were kind, but her tone of voice was more drill sergeant than nanny.

Simone smiled hesitantly. “I’ll give it a try. But I make no promises.”

While Simone sat up in bed, the nurse bustled about, straightening the covers and carefully placing a white wooden tray over Simone’s lap. The serving piece must have come with Barb as well, because Simone had never seen it. Although the china, glass and silverware were arranged artistically, Simone’s stomach rebelled at the aroma of the chicken broth.

Barbara picked up the bowl and held it under Simone’s nose. “Don’t let your brain overrule your stomach. You’re hungry, even if you don’t know it. Breathe in and tell yourself you’re about to have a treat.”