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“You can take a nap. Eat something. Rest.”
“Damon—”
“I mean it, Millie,” he said in a firm voice. “If you don’t start taking care of yourself the way I know Quillon would want, then I’m taking over.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means that all of you will be coming to stay with me and I will make sure that you rest and eat and don’t run yourself into the ground.”
“You’re not my Daddy,” she muttered.
“Just think of me as Uncle Damon,” he countered.
“Kind of disturbing.”
“I know why you’re sitting there, Millie,” he said.
He did not.
Did he?
“And I’m putting my foot down. No more. Understand? You have to take care of yourself. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
“Hear, hear!”
She turned to find Reverend Pat behind her.
“You tell her, young man.”
Okay. Reverend Pat calling Damon Steele a young man was pretty hilarious. Or it would have been if she wasn’t upset with Damon right now.
Reverend Pat took the tray from her.
“Reverend Pat,” she protested. “I can do that.”
“No, you can go get into bed and have a nap,” he replied. “We’ll be out of the house most of the day and when we get back, Andrey is cooking.”
“That’s right, I am,” Andrey boomed from behind Reverend Pat. He took the tray off the older man before heading downstairs.
“Does he know how to cook?” she whispered.
“No idea,” Reverend Pat replied. “But we’re going to find out. Now, off you go and rest.”
She heaved herself onto her feet. Maybe she’d just nap. For a few minutes.
11
Fuck. He’d fallen asleep again.
Spike let out a deep sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. Where was his girl? Had she fallen asleep? He glanced around, scowling as he found her asleep in the fucking armchair in the corner. Mr. Fluffy was sleeping on the floor in front of her.
What the hell?
Why wasn’t she sleeping with him?
Getting up, he used the bathroom quickly and got dressed before standing in front of her. Could he lift her up? Would he wake her?
Damn it. She wasn’t sleeping there.
