Daddy's Little Darling (Montana Daddies 2)

Whoever was looking after you before ought to be horsewhipped,” Doc commented. “He obviously had little care for your health.”

“Nobody looked after me before now,” she whispered.

Doc appeared surprised then glanced over to Clint who nodded.

“Hmph, good you’re here now then.”

Yeah. That was the first thing he’d said she could agree with.

“You got some scales around here?” Doc asked Clint.

“I think there are some in the main bathroom, I’ll go up and get them.”

“If you’d brought her to my clinic, we could have used mine. Don’t even know if yours will be accurate,” Doc grumbled.

She stared at him in amazement, she’d never heard anyone talk to Clint like that. They wouldn’t dare. Most of his men spoke about him with a hint of admiration and awe in their voices. But Clint didn’t bite back, he just shook his head, looking resigned.

Doc pulled out a thermometer, one that when in your ear, thank God, and took her temperature. Another grunt after he pulled it out. He really was something else. He examined her eyes next with the penlight.

Then he gently unwrapped the bandage and checked her hand, before rewrapping it in a clean bandage. “You’ve been keeping it dry?”

“Yes, Clint has been careful to keep it dry when I bathe.”

“Good.”

He glanced over at Clint as he entered the room, carrying some small scales in his hand. “Suppose they will do.” He turned back to her. “Do you know how tall you are?”

“Five foot one,” she told him.

“Come on, little darling,” Clint said to her. She got up and walked over to where he stood by the scales then hopped on.

“Well?” Doc called out from across the room.

Clint frowned as he stared down at the number. “Ninety.”

“Ninety point three,” she pointed out. She felt the point three made a difference. Or at least she hoped it might.

“Jesus, baby, you weigh nothing,” Clint said with concern.

She bit her lips. She was at least twelve pounds lighter from when she’d last visited her doctor and even then, her doctor hadn’t been happy.

“Needs to put on at least ten pounds. I’d be happier with fifteen,” Doc told Clint as she walked back to the sofa.

Clint nodded. “I’m working on it.”

“Lots of small meals would be best. If that doesn’t work, I’ve got some supplement drinks that we’ll use.”

“Yuck,” she muttered, screwing up her nose.

Clint gave her a firm look. “You’ll be taking them if you need them, even if I have to put them in a bottle and feed them to you myself.”

Doc appeared satisfied with the threat. She glared at him.

“Your health comes before your likes,” Clint told her with a warning in his voice.

“Have you been feeling dizzy much? Out of breath? Overly tired?” Doc asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. A little bit, I guess. I never really slept that well before.” She glanced over at Clint and he winked at her. “So, I guess I do feel tired and breathless a bit.”