Sheriff Daddy (Montana Daddies Book 10) by Laylah Roberts (top 10 novels to read .TXT) 📕

detergent you prefer, then I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“Bowel movements? Really?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think we need to ruin the romance before it even begins.”

Interest filled his gaze. “You want romance.”

“Well, I, umm, I just meant . . . “

“You want romance,” he said confidently. “You liked my flowers. That’s it. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to woo you.”

“Woo me? What are you? Eighty?” she tried to scoff. But honestly, her stomach was alight with butterflies.

“Well, what else would you call it when I win you over with my romantic gestures?”

He didn’t have to win her over. She was well and truly there. She was in deep, and falling further every moment she was with him.

“You don’t have to do any of that. I already like you.”

Really? How old are you? Sixteen?

“Maybe I want to romance you. Maybe I think you deserve sweetness.”

“You do sweetness?” she asked skeptically.

“Hey, I can be sweet,” he protested. “Now, tell me why you pushed me away just now.”

Drat. There went her hope he might leave it alone. “Oh, umm, I stink.”

He frowned. “What? No, you don’t. And even if you did, I don’t care.”

“No, I mean, I need to brush my teeth. I threw up and my breath probably smells like vomit and . . .” She trailed off as he scooped her up carefully in his arms, walking towards the door.

“We need to get you back to bed.”

“Ed—”

“I’ll get you a bowl in case you feel ill again.”

“Ed—”

He lay her on the bed. “I should take your temperature in case you’re coming down with something. I’ll get the first aid kit. I don’t think I’ve got a rectal thermometer, though. Those are better, right?”

That definitely didn’t sound better to her. No way was he getting near her with a rectal thermometer. They hadn’t even gotten to second base; did he really think she was going to let him stick something up her butt?

Not. Happening.

“Ed,” she said loudly as he drew the covers up over her.

“What? Do you feel sick again? Do you need the toilet?”

“Ed, I’m okay,” she told him as he went to pick her up again. Seriously, the guy was going to give himself an ulcer if he kept worrying over her this much.

“You’re not fine. I thought you looked flushed.” He put his huge hand over her forehead. “Definitely got a fever.”

“Then your internal thermometer must be off because I’m not sick. I don’t have a fever.”

“You just said you vomited. Was it the food?” He looked at the plate of food he’d left. She’d eaten a cracker and a slice of apple. She’d meant to eat more but then she’d gotten sleepy. And the bottle of water that was still three-quarters full. “Was something bad? Was that why you didn’t answer the phone? Because you were throwing up? Shit, why did I leave you?”

Actually, she’d completely forgotten to turn on her phone. But he didn’t need to know that. “It’s not the food. I’m not ill.”

“Here, have some water, you’ll be dehydrated. I’m going to call Xavier and have him come out and check you over.”

“Ed! Stop. Listen to me.”

He frowned down at her. “What is it? I need to get you a sick bowl. I don’t want you getting up to go the bathroom and getting dizzy then fainting. You can just use the bowl and then I’ll empty it for you.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I should never have left you on your own,” he berated himself. “That mistake won’t happen again.”

“Ed, I’m not sick. I just had a nightmare. Sometimes, when I wake up after one, I feel sick. It’s happened several times. I promise, it’s not the food and I’m not ill.”

“You vomited because of the nightmare?”

“Yes. That’s all. And you can leave me alone. I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not helpless. But it’s not easy to come home and see you distressed and hurting. So upset that you vomited.”

“I don’t like it either. I promise, there’s no need for Xavier to be called out or a rectal thermometer.” She wrinkled her nose.

His lips twitched. “Don’t like the idea of something being put into your bottom, Georgie-girl?”

“No!”

“Hmm, that’s too bad.”

What did he mean by that?

“You want to talk about the nightmares?” he asked, distracting her.

“No.” She shuddered. “I want to forget about them.”

“How’s that working out for you?” he asked dryly. “They’ve been coming more often, right?”

She let out a breath. “I think it’s because I started doing field work.”

“You weren’t before then?”

“No, I’ve basically worked behind a desk my entire career. Something I’m starting to think was my mother’s doing.”

“Your mother? How?”

“She has her ways. She has a lot of power and money. Anyway, I got a new boss and I saw my chance. I presented my case, worked hard to prove I was up to the job.” She licked her lips. “About three weeks after we finished up here, I was given this case. It all went really wrong. We were just chasing down a lead. This kid saw us and must have thought we were there for him. Not sure how he even knew we were feds. He fired at us as we were walking into this building. And I .. .” She clenched her hands together.

“You what?”

“Froze. I fucking froze. My first experience of gunfire and I fucking froze. If it wasn’t for my partner, it would have been so much worse.” She cupped the side of her arm. “It was just a flesh wound. Only put me out of commission for a few weeks. But the nightmares started coming more frequently.”

“You were shot? Fucking hell. I wish I’d known.”

“Nothing you could have done.”

“Except take care of you,” he growled.

Yeah. She’d have liked that. Even if he was a bit overprotective. “So after I was shot, I had to see the FBI’s therapist. And I was back on desk work. I was finding it difficult to get up each morning and go to work.