Page 38 of The Work Wife

“I sleep in the nude, how about you?” she asked, because she couldn’t help herself. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open before she started laughing. “I’m kidding. You should see your face.”

“Not funny,” he grumbled.

* * * *

Wes was already in bed when Jamie came into the room and closed the door. She was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

This was Jamie. His friend. Yes, she would be sleeping in the same bed as him, but that didn’t mean he would be having sex with her. Unfortunately his body was trained to have sex with women who shared his bed.

He scooted over to the side when she got in.

“You okay? You look terrified,” she said with a chuckle.

“Just stay on your side and we’ll be fine.”

“Do you want me to put a string down the middle?”

“No. I think we can both agree that I need more of the bed than you do. So I will take up two thirds, and you will have what’s left,” he joked, earning an elbow in the rib.

“Goodnight, James,” he said, using his nickname for her.

“Goodnight, Easton.”

She’d used her clever nickname as well. It kind of felt like a sleepover. Not that he’d had many of those. He hadn’t liked explaining to his friends why a cook made them pancakes in the morning instead of his mother.

Wes was awakened from a surprisingly restful sleep when Jamie threw back the covers and got out of bed. “That’s it,” she mumbled.

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?” he asked. It was still dark. The clock by her bed said it was nearly four in the morning.

She muttered something else in answer, but he couldn’t make it out. Deciding it didn’t matter, he lay back down, but she ran into the doorjamb on her way out of the room and he heard her talking again.

He became more alert when he figured out what was happening.

He’d heard stories of her adventures while sleeping. Like the time she came out in the morning to find the milk was out, or once when she’d made and eaten half a mayonnaise sandwich. But this was the first time he’d seen it for himself.

He got out of bed and followed her into the living room, where she was standing in front of the chair mumbling. He could make out a few words, but together they didn’t make any sense.

“Jamie? Are you really sleeping or are you messing with me?” he asked.

“She’s asleep.” Mr. Witmer nearly scared the piss out of him. “You can tell by the way she’s muttering. Every once in a while you might pick up a real word, but mostly it’s gibberish. Unless you ask her a question directly.” The man turned to Jamie and whispered. “Jamie, did you sneak out of the house to go to a party your senior year?”

“Yes. But don’t tell my dad.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

The man shook his head.

“Is she going to be grounded now?” Wes smiled.

“If I could ground her, don’t you think I would have already done so after the stunt you two pulled?”

“I’m sorry about that.” He couldn’t say it enough. What he really wanted to say was it was Jamie’s fault, but he kept that to himself.

“Jamie?” The man turned to his zombielike daughter with a tilt to his head. “Why did you marry Wes?”

Oh, shit. Wes glanced at the door, ready to make a run for it, but his wallet was in the bedroom.