Free Counterfeit Cowboy by Gail MacMillan

across a forehead glistening with sweat on this hot day, Dr. Shelby couldn’t have looked more like an angel of mercy than Florence Nightingale to the Crimean troops.
    “I’m in charge around here and you’ll do as I say.” She put a cool hand on his forehead. “You’re a bit fevered. I’ll bring an ice pack.”
    Man, that felt good…soothing and relaxing and comforting all in one.
    “Okay.” With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes and let the peace and comfort of the old farmhouse bedroom take over. He needed this, just exactly this. To be cared for instead of caring for others, just for a little while. Just until he got his gut under control.
    “Good. Get out of those jeans and under the sheet. I’ll be right back. If you feel nauseated again, the bathroom is across the hall.”
    She headed for the door, but he stopped her.
    “Dr. Masters…Shelby?”
    “Yes.” She paused and turned back from the waist up.
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem. You’ll feel better soon.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.
    He hesitated, then pulled himself up to shuck his jeans. When he stretched out in his underwear between cool, clean sheets, a sudden sense of peace enveloped him and he felt his stomach relax.
    Feels a lot like home one summer day when I got sick eating too many blueberries and my mom put me to bed. Same great old-fashioned room, same type of bed, same type of comfort and reassurance. Maybe this is all I need to get myself in shape. Maybe six weeks here will set me back on track so I’ll be able to handle the boys again. If I learn to ride even a bit, that will be a bonus.
    “Drink this.” Shelby reentered the room, a sweating glass in one hand, a cold pack under her elbow.
    She sat down on the edge of the bed and handed the drink to him as he sat up, the sheet to his waist.
    “Good.” He muttered the word as he tasted the lemonade-flavored beverage. “I needed that. Think I was dehydrating.”
    “Could have been.” She waited until he finished, took the glass, and put a cool hand on his bare shoulder to push him back against the pillows. “Here.”
    She pressed the cold pack against his forehead. He flinched at its touch, then sighed as relief flooded through his head.
    “Sleep now.” She started to rise, but he caught her hand and was rewarded with a startled but not unwelcoming look.
    “Sorry about this. I promise I won’t make a burden of myself again. In an hour or two, I’ll be ready to go back to work.”
    “I know you will.”
    She stood, looked down at him with a smile that made his entire body tighten, then left.
    ****
    “How are you feeling?”
    Shelby’s voice brought him awake. He blinked to see her standing beside his bed in the darkened room.
    “Better.” He forced a grin and clasped his hands on the pillow behind his head. “Not a great way to start off as a hired hand.”
    “Never mind about that. Do you think it may be food poisoning? A burger left on the hot tray too long?”
    “No.” He drew a deep breath. “It’s me and my mixed-up gut. Too many fast food meals too late at night, black coffee for breakfast, junk to fill the hunger void. The past three years are catching up with me. Doctor says I have to start eating healthy at regular hours, but in my line of work? He’s got to be kidding.”
    “That’s a situation we can remedy.” Shelby opened the curtains to let in the late afternoon sun. “You’ll find we eat sensibly and at the same times each day. If that’s all that ails you, we’ll have you back on your feet in no time. I’ll call you for supper in a half hour. Chicken stew with dumplings and a blueberry cobbler for dessert.”
    “If you hadn’t opted to be a vet, you’d have made a great chef.”
    “Flattery will only get you another home-cooked meal.”
    “Well, then, let me rave on.”
    “Not necessary. See you in the kitchen.”
    She smiled that great smile again and left. Jordan stretched, then eased himself out of bed. He pulled