1. Juniper

ONE

"I think I'm dying." My voice creaks into the phone as I talk to Catherine Johnson. She's technically one of the bosses on the Johnson Ranch. Next in line after Catherine would be Russell, and after that it would be Lawson. Nope, not going there, not even thinking about the horse's ass. I'm being dramatic, but waking up with an upset stomach for what seems like too many consecutive days in a row will do that to a girl. Only today, it was different. The vomiting started the second I was vertical. I barely made it to the bathroom, which is where I'm sitting now. The cold floor tile feels heavenly on my legs, but that's where the happiness ends and the annoyance begins. I absolutely hate vomiting. It makes me cry and makes me angry. There is nothing worse in my eyes. The last thing I want is to be overly emotional. Then I become mad at myself. Believe me, it's not a pretty cycle.

"Oh no, what's wrong? Take the day off, Juni. You've yet to use any time you've accrued. And make sure you're resting. I'll bring over some soup, electrolyte drinks, and a heating pad." Catherine's mom mode is activated, which doesn't surprise me. She's usually there twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But when someone she cares about is sick or hurt, the love and affection are amplified. And as much as I know she's coming from the right place, the last thing I can think about is eating or drinking.

"I'll take you up on the day off. As for the food and drinks, maybe hold off for a little bit?" I wince, worrying I'll upset her. Except making the slightest move makes my stomach swirl upside down. I'm currently on the tilt-o-wheel at a carnival, ready to hurl, afraid to ask for the ride to stop. I'm sucking back air, trying not to move so much as an inch. The toilet is in front of me just in case, but there is absolutely no way I'm going to toss my cookies while on the phone with someone.

"Will do. It'll take me a bit anyways. I don't have any chicken thawed out, plus the guys will be here for breakfast soon." The thought of food is making the queasiness worse. I'm going to have to end this call soon. Except I know Catherine more than I do my own parents. She's not through with our conversation. She's a talker, and, well, I know listening is the least I can do, so that's what I do as she continues, "Keep your phone near you. I'll text you in a little while to check on you. If you don't answer, and as long as you don't mind, I'll use my key."

Everyone who works full-time on the ranch lives here. While I'm fortunate and have a small cabin on the property, a lot of the ranch hands don't and stay in the bunkhouse. And now I couldn't be more thankful, even if I'm on call constantly with being the only nurse on the Johnson homestead. I couldn't imagine being sick and having to share a space right about now.

"That's fine. I'm going to switch my phone to vibrate," I tell her, worried that someone will be injured on the one day I'm not around.

"You will not." I hold back my gasp because Catherine is usually the first person to tell me I work too damn much. She barely takes a breath before finishing her sentence, "Turn the damn thing to silent. I'll know if something is wrong with you. I do have a mother's intuition, you know." I'd laugh if I didn't think it'd make my symptoms worse.

"Okay, promise me, though. Should something go wrong, come and get me, please." While I work for the Johnson ranch the majority of time, if a neighbor needs me, they'll call Catherine or Russell. They in turn figure out the logistics and I head over to another ranch. Lawson grumbles constantly that I shouldn't be going by myself, to which I usually give him a dirty look, he makes a comment I don't care for, then my mouth gets away from me. That's when I say something I don't really mean, he fires back, and I stomp off. Needless to say, Lawson and I are like oil and water, and while he may not want me to go by myself, I do it anyways, which sets off another argument.

The last month and a half, I've held a chip on my shoulder and I shouldn't have. It's clear as day Lawson doesn't remember our night together. That hurt, and it continues to hurt because he worked my body like no other man ever could. I didn't want to leave early the next morning, but I didn't have a choice. I was perfectly content with Lawson holding me close to his body. The two of us were naked, his chest to my back, and his hand, well, let's just say he had my breast in the palm of his big, calloused hand. The only reason I left before Lawson woke up was because my phone was vibrating non-stop. Usually when it's important like that day, I'd get a call from Catherine, Russell, or one of the Johnson brothers. I was surprised to see it was from Joseph, a ranch hand. He was doing morning chores, checking on the calves that were born through the night. Joseph got too close, and when it comes to a momma and her baby, he was not going to win the battle to tag the calf. He was bucked pretty hard, came down on his back, and his head hit a fence post. I'd have complained and told him to find someone else, except this is my job, so I couldn't necessarily say no. I managed to peel myself away from Lawson without waking him and headed out the door. That's where things ended before they even really began.

"I'll do no such thing. They'll live, and if they're dying, well, we'll call for an ambulance. You worry about getting yourself to feeling better."

I concede. There's no arguing with her, and honestly, I don't have the energy to do much else besides sleep.

"Alright. Thank you, Catherine. I truly appreciate you allowing me to take today off."

"Honey, you can take a whole week off and I wouldn't so much as blink an eye. Off to bed with you. I'll check in with you later," she rounds out of conversation.

"Okay, but I'm not taking that much time off. Thank you, truly." Tears are clouding my view because why wouldn't I get emotional while I'm sick?

"You don't have to thank me, honey. Now, take care of yourself, and like I said, I'll check in with you after I get these boys out of my hair." She chuckles, and we hang up. And as much as I'd love to crawl back into bed, my body isn't going to allow me that luxury for the time being. My stomach chooses that time to riot again. A cold sweat breaks out over my body and my eyes water. Thankfully, I'm right in front of the porcelain throne. It's probably where I'll remain for eternity. There goes my dramatics again. It is what it is. If I were able to make it to the ranch clinic, I'd take some medicine for nausea. There's only one problem with that idea: I'd have to get up from my spot and keep it down. I've already tried drinking water this morning and that didn't work, so I think it's safe to assume this stomach bug is just going to have to work its way through my system. All I have to say is it better work through my body fast, or I'm going to be madder than a wet hen.

"Oh god," I groan and go back to losing whatever else is in my stomach, which honestly can't be much more.