She was going to die. Shannon clutched the box of tissues to her chest and stumbled down the hallway. Well, that was only if she were really lucky. Sometime in the night she had started to feel bad—really bad. Now she had to face the truth: she had the flu.
The kids had gotten up at 6 o’clock, full of energy and ready to start their days’ adventures. She’d considered letting them fix their own breakfasts, but three five-year-olds in the kitchen sounded like way too much of a disaster in the making. So she’d gotten out of bed.
Now she was struggling with all she had just to make it until she could get back to bed. Ms. Sheffield was bringing a group of guests out tomorrow morning. Shannon had a to do list she’d been adding to for days. She had hours of work ahead of her and she couldn’t even get her achy body out of her pajamas. She blew her nose into a tissue and leaned against the wall. She wouldn’t cry.
“Mommy, can we go out and play?” Brian hopped up and down, forcing Shannon to squeeze her eyes shut against the havoc his energy was wreaking on her equilibrium.
“I was hoping I could get a few helpers at the big house today. Mommy’s not feeling well.”
Brian stopped hopping and slumped. He dragged his feet and sighed dramatically.
“Can we just play for a few minutes? Then we’ll help. Pinky swear.”
Shannon waved him outside, trying for a shaky smile. “No one gets hurt today—you hear me? I’m too sick to drive you to the hospital.” She shook her head when her order was met with giggles. They think I’m kidding.
Shoving her feet into a pair of bright pink flip-flops, Shannon headed for the big house—in her pajamas. Who was she going to run into? Ms. Sheffield wouldn’t be around until the next day.
She got the cleaning supplies out of the huge utility closet in the garage. She groaned, thinking about all the windows that needed cleaning and how badly her whole body already hurt. How was she going to raise her arms above her head when she could barely shuffle across the lawn to get to the house?
Shannon took a few deep, slow breaths. The aching in her head was so bad she was afraid she was going to vomit. But then she’d have to clean it up. So that just wasn’t going to happen. Oh, she really didn’t have time for this!
Honking into a tissue, she shoved it back down into her pocket. Shannon turned a bleary gaze to the window. She knew the triplets were out there—she’d heard them just a few minutes ago. But where had they gone? She pushed herself away from the windowsill and turned back to the vacuum. She’d go round up her escapees after she finished vacuuming the downstairs.
She was halfway through the living room when she heard the children over the sound of the vacuum. She shut it off and turned, ready to chastise them for tracking dirt in on their sneakers. All three children stood proudly, pushing Dean to the forefront of their little group.
“You said you needed helpers ’cause you weren’t feeling well. So we went and got Dean.” Brian beamed.
Shannon looked from her own bedraggled bedhead and rumpled pajamas to Dean’s tight white t-shirt and navy cargo shorts. She burst out crying. Dean knelt down and whispered something to the kids, who turned and filed out of the room. Then he hurried over to Shannon, who stood blubbering in the center of the room, her teeth chattering. He placed a cool hand on her forehead and silently swore.
“God, baby, you are burning up. What the hell are you doing over here? You should be in bed.”
“Can’t. Too much to do.” She hugged herself tightly, trying to keep from biting her tongue when she couldn’t control the shivering.
“You’re no good to anyone like this. You can’t do everything. In fact, today, you can’t do anything.” He placed a finger over her lips when she started to protest. “That’s an order.”
He lifted her in his arms like she didn’t weigh a thing and carried her to the couch. Shannon lifted her head off the pillow he’d placed beneath her and tried to get up. A wave of vicious dizziness had her stomach pitching dangerously and she decided it wouldn’t be in her best interest to fight him.
“You tell me what needs to be done and the trips and I will do it. You will stay here and rest. Get some sleep if you can.” He covered her with a homemade afghan he’d found draped on the couch.
Shannon nodded weakly.
“I have a list on the kitchen table. The kids know where all the supplies are kept.” She sniffled. “Dean, I’m so sorry.”
“For what? Getting sick? I highly doubt you did it on purpose.” He dropped a kiss on her fevered brow and started to leave the room.
“Do you need me to bring a bucket?”
“No, I’ll be okay.” Mortification added to the bright flush on her cheeks. Of all people to have to see her like this.
Shannon drifted in and out of sleep, roused by the occasional bang of a cupboard or the muffled giggle of one of the children. She alternated between kicking off the blanket because she was too warm and hauling it back over her when the chills began anew. Dean had left a box of tissues within reach and she was quickly filling the small wastebasket with crumpled tissues.
It was lunchtime and she really needed to get up and fix something at the cottage for the triplets. She had just managed to stand and fold the blanket on the couch when Dean walked in. He shook his head when he saw she’d disobeyed orders.
“Sit down. As soon as I finish vacuuming this room we’ll be done.”
“But my list?” she sputtered.
“Work goes fast when you split it between four people. I imagine it takes a lot longer when you insist on doing it all yourself.” He lifted a brow and sent her a pointed stare.
“It’s my job,” she moaned. “Who am I going to ask for help?”
“I bet this job doesn’t come with benefits like vacation or sick days, does it?” He frowned.
Dean turned on the vacuum and made short work of the rest of the carpet. Shannon sat obediently on the couch, lifting her feet when he needed to vacuum underneath them. When he was done, he returned the vacuum to the utility closet, came back for his patient, and carried her all the way back to the cottage, the children leading the way. Shannon was too miserably sick to argue.
• • •
The aching in her head had eased off enough to where she was no longer so worried she’d hurl all over her houseguest. She sat up in bed, propped up against pillows, sipping weak tea. She’d tried to have Dean drop her off on the couch but he insisted she be put straight to bed. His only concession was to let her remain sitting, so she could pretend, at least, that she was somewhat involved in the care of her children and household.
Giggles and chatter reached her ears from the kitchen. It was lunchtime, but what that consisted of today, Shannon had no idea. All Dean had to do was look in the fridge or the pantry for any number of easy-to-make choices. She tried to keep lots of healthy things on hand. It’s possible they could be eating their way through a bag of potato chips, but she had to trust that Dean would be more responsible than that.
It killed her to just sit here and do nothing. She was a doer. She worked through pain and illnesses. She didn’t have any choice. She’d never had help. This was hard for her, humbling. And yet she knew her kids were in good hands. She could trust Dean to help out while she was sick. She was almost starting to believe she could trust him to stick around no matter what. Maybe the fever was making her delirious.
“I brought some crackers and broth. Wasn’t sure you were up to anything more filling, but I can fix you something if you’d like.”
Dean carried a tray into the room, followed by the children. They were unusually subdued. Shannon glanced from them to Dean, frowning slightly.
He shrugged a shoulder and flashed her a grin. “I told them they could come with me if they promised not to jump up and attack you in bed. It might jiggle your stomach too much and make you throw up. And then they’d have to clean it up.”
Shannon smiled at the horrified looks on all three faces. She whispered a “thank you” to Dean and patted the bed gently.
“I’d love some company as long as you can sit gently.”
The triplets’ whole demeanor changed when they were told they could stay and visit. With huge grins and exaggerated care, they climbed onto the bed and gave their mother careful kisses. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her sweet babies.
Dean was still standing beside the bed and Shannon tamped down an unbidden thrill that he was in her bedroom. She swore the man really must be able to read minds because, when she looked up at him, he winked. Cheeky!
“Mommy, we had quesadillas for lunch. Mr. Dean cooked ’em for us.”
“An’ he let us sprinkle the cheese on.”
“We wanted lemonade but he told us we had to have milk, ’cause it makes your bones and teeth strong.”
“Well, I guess you don’t need your old mother today, then. Mr. Dean is taking good care of you.”
“Yeah, but we said we needed hugs and he said he thought you probably needed some right back.”
“He was very right about that.”
Shannon reached her arms around until she had each child within her grasp. She laid a kiss on each temple, smoothing back their bangs and checking foreheads to make sure that no one was coming down with what she had. When she was satisfied that they were all well, she let them go, shooing them off the bed so Dean could set the lunch tray down.
Having assured themselves that their mom was just sick but would be back to herself in no time, the kids dashed from the room. Off to the next adventure. Dean set the tray across Shannon’s lap and lowered himself to the bed beside her.
“So the preferred method for gauging a fever is this?” He leaned in and swept her hair from her forehead, his lips feather light against her skin.
“You shouldn’t. I don’t want you to get sick.” She lowered her head to duck out of his reach.
“But you’d take care of me, right?”
“Of course!” Wow, that came out a little too forcefully. Shannon squirmed from embarrassment.
“That makes me very happy to hear.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close enough to drop a kiss on the crown of her head.
He slipped off the bed and gave his patient an assessing gaze. She straightened her back and tried to give him a cheerful smile. He shook his head and backed toward the door.
“Nice try, but you need sleep. I’m going to go clean up the kitchen and then the kids have challenged me to a water balloon fight. I promise we’ll keep it outdoors and everyone will have bathing suits on.”
“Leave it. The kitchen. I’ll clean it when I get up.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m in charge today. Your only job today is to get better. In order to do that, you have to rest. Don’t make me get my bossy pants on!”
Shannon nearly snorted out the soup she’d just taken a sip of. Bossy pants. Is that what she sounded like on a normal day? Good grief.
Dean waved from the doorway and headed back down the hall. The kids were playing in the living room, no doubt waiting for Dean’s permission to escape to the beautiful summer day outside. It was blessedly quiet in Shannon’s room.
She found a blister-packed pill that promised daytime relief for flu symptoms under her napkin. Bless you, Dean! She tossed it back with a sip of water and moved the tray to her bedside table. It was time to let go, put things in someone else’s hands and just sleep. The last thought she had before succumbing to slumber was Dean, in a frilly apron and nothing else. Ah, the beautifully colored world of a drug-induced sleep.
• • •
Dean’s nose smelled the brewing coffee before his ears could register the sound of the coffeemaker churning out a delicious pot. His eyes still closed, he breathed deeply. Not just coffee. He sniffed again. Bacon. Oh … and something covered with maple syrup. He’d died and gone to heaven.
He opened his eyes and looked around groggily. Last night, after he had put the kids to bed, he had gone back to his place and packed an overnight bag. He wasn’t sure how long Shannon would be doped up on cold meds and he wanted to be there if the triplets needed anything in the middle of the night. So he’d camped out on their living room couch.
As he slowly came to wakefulness, Dean could hear hushed whispers coming from the kitchen. They were letting him sleep in. It must be killing the kids not to be chattering at full volume, running around and jumping all over him. He was touched. He threw back the quilt he’d discovered in the hall closet, and set his feet on the floor.
Padding across the room, he snuck into the doorway to the kitchen. He hadn’t been spotted so he took a few moments to enjoy the scene in front of him. The triplets were gobbling up French toast, having liberally saturated their slices with syrup. Shannon stood at the stove, wearing a short pink terry robe. She’d scrubbed her face shiny and, he was happy to see, her color had returned to normal.
“Wow, looks good enough to eat.” Dean wiggled his brows when Shannon turned to stare, mouth agape.
She gestured at the last empty chair at the table and waved him toward it, brandishing her spatula.
“Go. Sit. How do you like your bacon?” The look she sent him suggested he not answer with a sexual innuendo this time.
“Crispy please. I take it you’re feeling better?”
“Like a new person. It’s amazing how fast you can get over something when you take the time to sleep it off.” She kept her gaze focused on the frying pan, tiny dots of color staining her cheeks.
“Isn’t it just?”
Dean ruffled Brian’s hair, pointed to something on Brenna’s plate, and stole a piece of bacon off the little boys’ plate. Then he headed for the coffee pot, stopping to snag the creamer out of the fridge. The only thing that would make this morning better is if he were allowed to give in to the urge to take Shannon in his arms and kiss her. But he knew she wasn’t ready for that.
He stirred a packet of sweetener into his steaming mug and glanced toward the table. The kids would be totally okay with him dating their mom. He had no doubt. They were old enough to understand that their mother deserved to be happy too. And when they were all together, they were happy. Just like a family.
“Earth to Dean? Bacon’s ready.” He blinked, realizing Shannon held a plate to his chest.
“I… thanks.” He ignored her quizzical gaze and joined the kids at the table, replacing the bacon he’d stolen from Brian with one of his own.
The kids finished their breakfasts, downed their milk, and carried plates and glasses to the sink. Shannon slid into one of the vacated seats. She forked a stack of French toast onto Dean’s plate, keeping only one for herself.
“I guess we need to get another chair for the table.” She handed the syrup to Dean as though she’d just made a casual comment about the weather.
“Yeah?” As happy as this made him, he wasn’t at all sure what to say.
“You saved my butt yesterday. I owe you big time.” She cut her toast into tiny pieces.
“You don’t owe me a thing. I was happy to help. If our roles were reversed, you would have taken care of me in a second.” He took a big bite of maple-y goodness. “I know it’s hard for you to accept help from someone, but you need to understand something. You aren’t beholden to me, or anyone else. You can’t always go it alone. Some days you are just going to have to admit you need help. And I hope you know that you can always come to me.”
Shannon plucked a sliver of food into her mouth and chewed it thoroughly. She took a sip of milk. Finally she set her fork down and looked up at Dean. She nodded.
“I do know that. It blows me away, if you want the honest truth. But I do believe you.”
They finished the rest of their breakfasts in companionable silence. Shannon stood up to clear the table so Dean took that moment to beat her to the sink. He filled the sink with hot, soapy water and took the breakfast dishes from her when she got there.
“I’ve got this. Why don’t you grab a cup of coffee and have a seat?”
“Oh, no, my stomach isn’t ready for coffee. I think I could go for some tea though.” Shannon seemed pleased to be offered a chance to sit and relax.
He washed the dishes quickly, and moved on to the counters while the frying pan and skillet were soaking. Shannon sat at the table, still looking a little worn. Dean swept the sponge across the tabletop and paused to lay the back of his hand against her forehead. Nice and cool. She looked up and smiled, clasping his hand in one of her own.
Sparing the quickest of glances toward the doorway and finding it free of pint-sized spies, he leaned down and kissed her gently. She craned her neck and returned his kiss. Unspoken agreement kept it short and sweet. She fanned a hand in front of her face.
“Whew! There is nothing sexier than watching a man clean my kitchen. You’re lucky I’ve got three little chaperones wandering around here somewhere.”
Dean laughed. Feeling wicked, he turned back to the stovetop, presenting his backside, and pretended to scrub in slow, sensuous movements. She whistled, suggesting she needed to go search her purse for a stack of ones.
Once the kitchen was cleaned up, and a fresh cup of coffee poured, Dean and Shannon took their drinks out to her little patio. Several out-of-state cars were parked in the driveway of the big house. Dean hoped nothing would be asked of Shannon today. She still needed a day to get her strength back.
The triplets, realizing the party had been moved outdoors, raced out to their play structure. Shannon pulled demurely on the hem of her robe, probably only now noticing her state of dress. Personally, Dean hoped she’d stay in it all day.
“So I feel like I lost a whole day. What did you all do while I was sleeping?”
Dean filled her in on the adventures he and the kids had shared yesterday. They’d played pirates on the play structure. The boys had shown him the best rocks to look under for all sorts of creepy crawlers. Brenna had invited him to a tea party, insisting he wear one of her feather boas and a floppy hat, when she found that he didn’t have anything formal to wear to the occasion.
“Oh, I would have loved a picture of that!”
“Any and all photos would have been confiscated and destroyed,” he rumbled.
Then for dinner they had snuck up to the big house and made a fire in the fire pit. Dean sharpened sticks for everyone and showed them how to roast hot dogs over an open fire. Then they had made s’mores, and gotten covered in chocolate and sticky gooiness. After a bath that probably contained more bubbles than actual water, he read three books each and tucked them in.
“Mister, you were conned. They get one book each.” Shannon chuckled.
“I had a feeling that was the case. But I was having too much fun to be the bad guy. It was a special occasion.”
He reached out and covered Shannon’s hand, shaking his head and silencing what would surely be either an apology or more undue gratitude. Brenna bounced up to them and slid into her mother’s lap.
“Hey, baby girl. What’s Rosie up to? I haven’t seen her around lately.” Shannon gave her daughter a squeeze.
“Silly Mommy. Rosie left. She went on the plane with Gramma.”
“Is she visiting with Gramma for a while then?”
“No, she’s exploring. She wants to see lots of places.” Brenna kissed her mother on the cheek, wiggled out of her lap, and gave Dean a kiss as well, before darting off.
Shannon stared after her, her eyes misty. She sighed, but he couldn’t tell if she was really happy or really sad. Something significant had just happened and he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“What am I missing? Her imaginary friend went away?”
“She doesn’t need her anymore.” Shannon looked up, smiling in spite of her trembling lower lip. “I would say you had a lot to do with that.”
Dean felt a quick jab to the heart that slowly began to warm and spread. This family meant the world to him. He felt possessive. They were no longer the single mother and her children who lived next door. They were his. His Shannon … his kids to help watch out for, care for.
Shannon had turned her attention back to the triplets. They were running and goofing off on the lawn. She clapped at their antics, looking like the happiest mom in the world.
He needed to tell her the truth. He had to trust that she wouldn’t hate him for holding out on her. He had to trust that she wouldn’t change on him once she learned that he came with a very colorful past. He owed it to her to be honest, finally. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.