“Yes.” She hugged a throw pillow. “A nap. And water.”
Exhaling slowly, I made my way to the kitchen. I found her stash of Benadryl and took two bottles of water from the fridge. When I came back into the living room, she was snoring lightly.
I set the stuff down on the table next to the sofa. She opened her eyes and smiled. “You’re good at this.”
Frowning, I asked, “What?”
“Taking care of me. I think I’ll keep you.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “You should stay.”
I dropped to my knees in front of her. “Do you need me to?”
“Huh?”
“Stay. Do you want me to stay?
Her eyes locked on mine. She reached out and brushed her thumb over my bottom lip. “If you want to.”
“I’ll stay for a little while.”
She sighed contently. “Thanks.” Frowning, she asked, “Are my lips still swollen?”
The Benadryl had done its work. Her mouth was only slightly swollen now. I suspected the itching would be a distant memory soon. “Not really.”
“So I don’t look like Mrs. Potato Head?”
I laughed. “Not even a little bit. Who told you that?”
“Long story,” she grumbled. “I appreciate you for being here.”
I stared at her, reveling in being near her. Tonight, we’d turned a corner and I wanted to stay on course. “I appreciate you, too. Now, get some sleep.”
“Okay. Juke?”
“Yes, Ronnie.”
Gripping my collar, she pulled me closer. “If you kiss me on my forehead again, I’ll kick your ass.”
I laughed softly. “I won’t.” Cupping her chin in my palm, I kissed her softly.
She moaned. “That’s good. More of that, please.”
Brushing my lips over hers again, I murmured. “Soon.”
A few minutes later, she was sleep.
Chapter Five
Granny’s Old Fashioned
VERONICA
Mornings were my favorite part of the day. Usually, I started with a workout and a smoothie or yoga and a small breakfast. Today, though, I was late. I was supposed to have hit the road an hour ago, but I could barely get up. Must have been the antihistamine coupled with the embarrassment of yesterday.
I finally got my kiss, but there was no retiring to the bedroom for dirty sex. No breakfast in bed after sleepy sex. No shower sex before lunch. Just me, my swollen lips, and my Benadryl.
So, instead of starting the four-hour drive to Indianapolis, I ended up in front of Brook’s Pub. Sighing, I hopped out of the car and walked to the door. The bar wasn’t open this early, but I knew he’d be there. He was a morning person, too. And he was usually at work by eight.
I knocked on the door.
