Hissy Fit (Southern Gentleman 1)

“Makes me wonder about other things, too,” she murmured.

“What other things?” I questioned.

“Other things like Coach Casper being Mackie’s alibi for that night that Morgan was hurt.”

It sickened me to think about it, but the more I thought on it, the more likely it became.

I should’ve said something then about it, but before I could, the bell rang and Morgan himself rolled into my class with a wide smile on his face.

“Can I be the ring boy at your wedding, Coach?” he called as he passed. “I’m about the same height as one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Morgan. Whatever you want to do.”

With that my woman patted me on the cheek and told me she would see me later, and I momentarily forgot that there was something I wanted to call the chief of police about until too late.Chapter 23Peezing- sneezing and peeing at the same time.

-Text from Raleigh to Ezra

Raleigh

My stomach was roiling, and the only thing I could do was sit on the couch and look at Ezra and his niece pitifully.

“No, listen.” Moira shook her head. “It’s not going to come! I know. It’s my face!”

Ezra shook his head. “Listen, Snaggletooth. It’s going to come out, I promise. I know these things.”

Moira shook her head. “No, you listen, Coach Duff. You’re not pulling it out.”

“What if I pull it out really fast?” he offered.

The little girl didn’t even take the time to consider his offer.

Moira shook her head. “Your hands are too fat. I came over here hoping that Aunt Raleigh could get it out with her small fingers. Not your fat ones.”

I bit my lip and tried not to laugh, knowing if I did it’d make my stomach hurt worse.

I had a bad case of food poisoning.

Ezra had a touch himself, but he hadn’t eaten the full portion like I had. He’d only had a tiny little bite.

Thank God.

Otherwise we’d have both been sharing the one single bathroom while we both did things out of both ends that should never be shared amongst a couple—at least not this soon in a relationship.

Today, however, we were babysitting, and I was lying on the couch that Ezra and I spent our first date on.

I hadn’t contemplated moving in well over four hours.

Every time I did, the food poisoning would come back with a vengeance.

“Well, Aunt Raleigh,” he drawled, looking over at me with a bemused smile, “can’t do it right now. You’ll have to either let me do it or come back later.”

She sighed. “Fine. You can do it, but if you screw up, it’s on you.”

Ezra snorted and held his hand out for the paper towel.

“Why isn’t your mommy doing this again?” he asked teasingly.

Moira gave a long, dragged out sigh. “Because Mommy cries when I cry.”

“You’re going to cry?” Ezra started to look worried.

Ezra was a sweet man. What was even sweeter was his love for his niece.

Moira had all the men in her life wrapped around her pinky finger, and that was no exaggeration.

If Moira cried, Ezra would be sad.

This should be fun.

“Maybe,” Moira offered. “But if I cry, just keep going. It’s gonna happen.”

“Okay,” Ezra said worriedly. “I’ll try to accomplish that.”

Moira had really grown up over the last couple of months. Her vocabulary had sky-rocketed as kindergarteners were bound to do. It was awesome seeing her excel.

Speaking of language…

“Okay, pull!” Moira ordered.

Ezra tried.

He really did.

But when he tried to pull, he couldn’t get a good grip on it and ended up also gripping the small tooth beside it.

Then the little girl screamed, and big crocodile tears started to roll down her cheeks.

Ezra freaked.

Literally freaked.

“Oh, God.” He dropped the towel, which had a smidge of blood on it. “Are you okay?”

“You hurt me, Uncle Ezra!” Moira cried.

I couldn’t help it.

I laughed.

“You think this is funny?” Ezra turned and glared at me.

Yeah, yeah I did.

“Moira,” I said softly, pitifully. “Come here and let me try.”

I went up to my elbow, and once I was able to hold my throw up down—thank God—I went even farther up to my butt.

I felt drained and completely blah, but I managed to get myself upright and hold my hand out for the paper towel.

“My turn,” I said softly.

Moira picked up the towel and ran toward me, holding it out while she continued to cry.

I didn’t waste time on the tears. Instead, I gestured to the couch and said, “Come sit. Let’s get this done.”

Because I might very well need to throw up again, and I don’t want to throw up in front of you.

“Okay,” Moira sniffled.

I bit my lip to keep the smile from my lips and positioned myself.

“That one?” I asked, wiggling it to test its readiness.

“Uh-huh,” Moira mouthed. “’At one.”

Hooking my fingernail around the back of the tooth, I pulled.

Moira screamed—but not the scream of pain, more the scream of surprise—and then the tooth was out.