Page 18

She nibbled her lip then studied her fingernails. “I said I didn’t lie,” she lied again.

“You’re pale as a ghost, and you sound like a frog.”

“Well, I’m better than I was.” Man, this lying thing was hard.

“You don’t sound better than you did at the Friendsgiving.”

“We will have to agree to disagree.”

Narrowing his eyes, he nodded slowly. “For now. But we’ll be revisiting this conversation when you’re better. Along with a few other things.”

After retrieving a spoon, he picked up the medicine and read the label. Liquid medicine. How had he known she struggled to swallow pills? And that was even without a sore throat. He poured a dose of thick amber liquid from the first bottle.

Yeah. She hoped he liked the taste because she wasn’t going to try a spoonful of something that reminded her of molasses. Just the thought of swallowing it sent a shiver of disgust down her spine.

He held out the spoon without spilling a drop. What wouldhappen if she knocked the spoon from his hand? He couldn’t exactly make her lick it off the floor.

“I know what you’re thinkin’, naughty girl. Your bottom will never survive cashing that check. You have two options, and I don’t care which you choose. You can swallow this medicine like a big girl and chase it down with a juice box. Or I can roll you over onto your tummy and put the medicine in your bottom using the suppositories Doc Bradford left.”

She gasped, tears welling in her eyes. “He did not!”

“Oh, he absolutely did. You are not the first stubborn Little patient he’s dealt with. He’s been a doctor here in Wilder for a long time. Now, which is it to be? This medicine is going in one end or the other.”

How had she come to this? “Why can’t I take a pill?” she demanded, her relief at not having to swallow one a thing of the past.

“First of all, your throat is too raw and swollen. Doc Bradford was worried you’d choke. Second, pills are not for Little girls like you.”

He knew! How did he know? “I never said I was a Little.”

“Of course you did, sweetie. You told me the minute you showed up at the Friendsgiving celebration wearin’ bright pink, unicorn combat boots and pigtails in your hair.”

“They’re called angel wings, thank you very much.”

His lips twitched. “I beg your pardon. Angel wings.”

Wait. Had she just given herself away? Again?

She didn’t see that she had much choice. There was no way he was sticking anything in her bottom. Still, she couldn’t make it too easy for him.

“What kind of juice box?” As a stalling technique, it wasn’t the best. But it would have to do. She wasn’t about to swallow goopy medicine for just any flavored juice box. Even a girl with a super sore throat had standards.

Chance didn’t miss a beat. “Apple juice or white grape?”

In the snootiest tone a frog could manage, she said, “I find your terms acceptable. I’d like apple juice, please.”

Once he retrieved the juice from the kitchenette in his suite, he poured another spoonful of the yucky medicine. With the juice box in hand, she held her nose and opened her mouth.

It turned out that the medicine wasn’t very thick and tasted like lemon drops. She loved lemon drops. Still, she shuddered and made a face anyway, just so he wouldn’t know he was right.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “See, not as bad as you thought. Let’s get you back under the covers. I can tell you’re getting tired. Doc Bradford said not to overdo it.”

She hadn’t fooled him at all. If he wasn’t a Daddy, he ought to be. She’d love a Daddy like Chance.

“I’m not tired. I just woke up.” Yeah, that would have been more effective if it hadn’t ended in a yawn.

“I know. Just humor me.”

Lucky for him, she was starting to feel lightheaded. And sleepy, although she’d never admit it. As he adjusted her covers, something struck her. “How did I get here?” she asked.