Page 8 of Softest Touch

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Page 8 of Softest Touch

Back at Derek's apartment, I find him still asleep. I sit on the couch and start working. When Sissi rests her head on my legs, I cuddle her and realize it's lunchtime. I fill her bowl with dog treats and heat the chicken soup. While it's warming up, I peek into Derek's bedroom.

Waking him is not easy, and he grumbles the entire time. However, he manages to eat the soup and takes the Tylenol before drifting back to sleep.

CHAPTER FIVE

DEREK

Climbing out of bed, I feel sticky, and a glance at the wet sheets makes me cringe. This fever is seriously kicking my ass.

After changing the sheets and taking a shower, I notice it's already dark outside. Peering around, I find it odd that Sissi isn't here. Walking into the living room, I spot her snoring on the sofa next to Melinda.

Is she still here?

I pause, staring at Melinda's angelic face and slightly parted pink lips. What the hell is wrong with me? Shaking my head, I try to dispel any irrational thoughts. She's my assistant, and she hates me—or so I thought.

“Melinda?” I call out. She groans and opens her sleepy eyes, blinking a few times before focusing on the room and realizing I'm here.

“Mr. Wilson...” She rubs her eyes and sits up straight.

“Derek, Melinda. Call me by my name.”

“Derek, I'm... I'm sorry, I dozed off,” she stammers, blushing.

“Don't worry; I thought you went home.”

Melinda rubs her eyes again, while Sissi doesn't even bother to move from her spot. “I couldn't. I had to make sure you were okay.”

Her sweet words make my heart melt. It's been a while since someone other than Sienna and James cared about me. “I'm fine. Have you had dinner?”

“Had dinner?” Her eyes dart to mine. “Oh my God, what time is it?”

“Nine p.m.”

“No, but I have to go,” she says, quickly getting up from the sofa that I'm afraid she'll trip. “Do you need anything?”

“No.” I shake my head, holding her jacket and helping her put it on. “I've bothered you enough today.”

“No worries; it was a pleasure.” She smiles, placing her hand on my forehead. “It seems the fever has subsided. Eat and then go right back to bed. If the fever rises again, the Tylenol is on the bedside table, and if you need me, call me, no matter the hour.”

I nod, touched by her kindness. “Will do.” I won't, though. It's not her responsibility to take care of me. Even if it feels good, it's not her duty.

“You still have some chicken soup in the fridge.”

“Oh, thank you. I'm starving,” I confess, and my stomach grumbles in agreement.

Her smile brightens, and it warms me. “I can imagine; you didn’t eat much for lunch.”

Her words surprise me. “I thought I had slept that long.”

She tilts her head, “Nope, you got up grumpy around three p.m. You had lunch, took the pill, then went back to sleep.”

“Oh...” So it wasn't a dream.

I recall Melinda refreshing my forehead, her delicate hands caressing my cheek and dampening the hankie on my neck.

“I'm going home now. Call me if you need anything else, and Sissi should be fine until tomorrow. I took her out two hours ago.” She bends down to cuddle Sissi before leaving.

I stare at the closed door for a moment before my stomach grumbles again.




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