Daddy in Cowboy Boots (Montana Daddies #9) - Laylah Roberts Page 0,25
it,” she said hastily.
His grin widened.
“Okay, maybe I did think that. Sorry.”
He shrugged and grabbed a plate, putting a sandwich, some salad and some of the sliced veggies on it. Then he handed it over to her. She took hold of it.
“My nana taught me how to cook and bake. I don’t always have much time for it, but I enjoy it.”
“But you must have gotten up early to make all this?”
He shrugged. “I’m an early riser.”
Even after being at a wedding the night before? The thought of him making all this for her flooded her with happiness. If he was willing to do this for a friend, what would he do for a girlfriend? He filled his own plate then nodded to her. “Eat.”
“Oh, I can’t.”
“What? Why not?” He frowned.
“I have to umm, do something, first.”
Shoot.
Just tell him. You have no reason to be ashamed.
But when she’d told people in the past, she’d had mixed reactions. From people telling her that she needed to cut all sugar from her diet, to explaining that she should exercise more. On the other side of the coin, there were people that were completely uninterested.
“Do something first?” His face cleared. “You’ve got to pee? You’ll have to go behind a bush.”
“What?” Pee? Oh crap. She hadn’t thought about that. There were no toilets out here. And now that he’d mentioned it . . .
Nope. No way. Not happening. She wasn’t peeing behind a bush. That sounded horrible.
You are a total city person, aren’t you?
One worry at a time.
“No, I don’t have to pee. Thank God.”
“Then what’s wrong?” His eyebrows rose. “Do you have to—”
“I’m gonna stop you right there because I’m not sure what other bodily function you’re going to come up with next. No, uh, here’s the thing. I have to check my blood sugar level. I can just turn my back so you don’t see me do it.”
“Your blood sugar level? You’re diabetic?”
“Yep, Type One.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Check it. Wait, why would you turn your back?”
“Some people don’t like to watch when I prick my finger.”
“A bit of blood doesn’t worry me,” he told her dryly. Although he was frowning slightly. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he upset that she was a diabetic?
She took out the monitor and lancet device. She pricked her finger then placed the drop of blood on the new test strip in the blood glucose monitor.
“What did it say?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s good.”
“I don’t know much about diabetes,” he admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me asking you questions.”
“No, I don’t mind,” she said quietly. Questions were good. At least he wasn’t immediately telling her what she should do or making assumptions about her life. “I need to take my insulin.”
“Right, by injection, yes? Where do you do it?”
“Usually in my stomach or thigh, sometimes my arm.”
“Can’t you get like a pump or something?”
“Yeah, you can. But my insurance doesn’t cover it,” she told him as she cleaned her hands with a wipe then prepared the syringe. “You can get pens too which are easier, but my insurance doesn’t fully cover them either.” She cleaned her skin with an alcoholic wipe then injected the insulin into her tummy. “It’s okay, I’m normally pretty good at keeping it under control. It’s just sometimes I’ll forget to eat.”
She tidied up, putting the needle in a plastic container she’d bought with her so she could get rid of it later.
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do to stop that,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “Some people react weirdly. Some act as though it’s my fault almost. If I just did this or ate that, then I could miraculously cure it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he stated, making her insides go warm.
“I didn’t want it to come between us.”
“Nothing is coming between us.” He reached over and took her hand. Then he cleared his throat awkwardly as though just realizing what he’d said. He let her hand go. “Is there anything I should know? Signs to look for if your blood sugars are dipping or spiking?”
“Oh well, signs of it spiking are usually a headache or I’ll need to pee and drink a lot and be really tired. When it dips too low, I often feel light-headed and tired. Sometimes I get irritable and anxious.”
He frowned. “I need a list of what to look for and what to do to help you. Will you give me that?”