Page 46 of A Dye Hard Holiday

“He hadn’t before I left,” I replied. “We were too busy worrying about the babies.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Gabe.

“What’s wrong with the babies?” Dare asked Wren.

“They have colds,” Wren answered.

“Oh, I hope Josh and Gabe don’t get it too.”

“I don’t get sick,” I told him while waiting for Gabe to answer his phone. My call went to voicemail, which never happened, so that meant Gabe was talking on the phone or busy doing damage control. “Hey, babe, check out the Blissville Daily News if you haven’t already seen the headline. Not sure you’ll get home at a decent time tonight after all. Love you.”

The rest of the salon staff showed up and our day kicked into high gear as people got ready for holiday parties that weekend. Thanksgiving might’ve been a slow time, but Christmas was crazy busy. Normally, I loved the hectic pace of my job, but I started to feel more and more droopy as the day went on.

The only response I got from Gabe all day was a single word in a text.Fuck!The grandmas checked in with me every hour and even sent pictures showing smiling, happy babies. I could tell that they weren’t feeling a hundred percent, but were looking a hell of a lot better than they did when I first saw them that morning.

“You don’t look so well, Jazz,” Mere said when I was sweeping up the hair from my last appointment for the day. She reached up to touch my forehead, but I stepped out of her reach.

“Stay back,” I told her. “I think I’m just tired from interrupted sleep, but the twins have a cold.”

“You don’t get sick,” Mere stated.

“I know, but I don’t want to take a chance and spread germs to you. It’s bad enough that you’ve been breathing the same air as me all day long.”

“Honey, colds are unavoidable. You go on home and let me close up for you.”

I wanted to argue, but I could feel a fever coming on. “I’ll be better tomorrow,” I assured her.

“Call me if you need anything.”

I snorted. “With two moms in the house?”

“Yeah, you’re in good hands. Let me know how you’re feeling though.”

I was grateful for the short drive because cold chills had moved in by the time I pulled into the garage. My mom took one look at me and sent me straight to my room.

“I d-d-d-don’t get s-s-s-sick,” I said through chattering teeth.

She brought me some tea, ibuprofen, and the jar of “goo” to rub on my chest. “You rest for now. I’ll bring up some chicken noodle soup in a bit.”

“And maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich too?” I asked. One little cold had reduced me to a little kid in an instant.

“Of course.”

I closed my eyes and didn’t wake up again until I felt warm lips press against my forehead. “Hi, baby,” I said. I didn’t need to open my eyes to recognize who those lips belonged to.

“You don’t get sick,” Gabe whispered into my ear.

“I don’t.”

He pressed his hand to my forehead. “Fever’s gone.”

“Thank God! I hate that our babies felt this miserable. It’s horrible. You can’t afford to get sick since you only have a few days to catch the Christmas Bandits.”

Gabe groaned. “Nothing curbs your snark, does it?”

“It makes me feel alive,” I said dramatically. “So, Dirty Harry, what are your plans?”

“Tonight, I’m going to take care of my family.”

“Tomorrow?”