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She might as well drop the period bomb on him now. She had no intention of going to him tonight—some people may be okay with sex during their period, but she was squeamish about it. Besides, she needed the respite to evaluate her emotional well-being after the intensity of the last two weeks.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t the store have a no-refund policy?”
“It’s hard to remain firm on that when a bride got jilted just two days before her wedding.”
“She’s a bitchy diva. Maybe that’s why he dumped her.”
“That’s a crappy thing to say,” Vicki protested. “Maybe she’s being a bitch because that jerk cheated on her with her best friend and ditched her two days before her wedding?”
“Fair point.” He nodded. “But taking it out on you hardly seems fair.”
Vicki sighed and unlocked the front door. “She has to take it out on someone and I’m convenient.”
He didn’t reply but stared at her for a moment before shaking his head grimly. She wasn’t sure what that meant and couldn’t be bothered to decipher his mood right now. She wanted a hot bath, her fuzziest jammies, a soppy movie, and her chocolate marshmallow ice-cream.
He stepped into the apartment and was back a few moments later.
“Doesn’t look like your brother’s home.”
“Oh, yes. I completely forgot. He’s gone to Rome on business. Said not to expect him back till Monday. I thought your Scooby Gang would have informed you.”
“My what?” he asked with an incredulous laugh.
“You know, your network of bodyguard buddies.” She tiredly massaged the nape of her neck, and his eyes—still dark with concern—followed the movement of her hand.
“They should have. Not sure why they didn’t,” he said absently. “Will you be okay?”
“Hmm? What do you mean? Why do you ask?”
“It’s just…you don’t seem like yourself.”
“How do I usually seem?” she asked, smothering a yawn, not really interested in his reply. Not that he even bothered to respond.
She tossed her bag in the direction of the coat rack and didn’t pick it up when it fell to the floor. She carelessly toed off her trainers, and made a beeline for the comfy sofa. Once there, she dragged her favorite lap blanket off one of the arms, pulled it around her shoulders, and curled up in a corner of the couch. She rested her aching head on the soft, overstuffed arm.
“Lock up on your way out, will you?” She closed her eyes with a sigh.
She really needed a nap. Just a tiny one. Too many late nights with Ty combined with the long hours at work. Mix in the stress of wedding season, along with her uncertainty about her bizarre arrangement with this man, and she was left with very little in her reserve tank.
It all caught up with her in that moment, and she fell asleep in an instant.
She was asleep.
Ty stared at Vicki—a troubled frown on his face—not sure what to do now. Aside from the night when she had passed out in a drunken stupor, he’d never seen her so still. That night, he had known exactly what the problem was. Tonight, he was concerned.
He touched her smooth forehead with the back of his hand. Despite the headache she’d complained about earlier and the unnatural speed with which she had fallen asleep, she was cool to the touch. He tucked his hands into his pockets and contemplated her small, curled up form.
He wasn’t used to being so uncertain. He should go. Leave her to sleep.
But what if she were ill? What if she woke up with a fever, or her headache was worse, or she needed a doctor but no one was here to help her?
He was being ridiculous. Looking for excuses to stay.
He felt an odd jerk in the vicinity of his chest. She was such a dynamo, seeing her so quiet and vulnerable tugged at his every protective instinct. He removed her glasses carefully, and placed them on the coffee table where she would see them when she woke up.
He would text her in an hour or so, just to see how she was doing. She looked comfortable enough. The sofa—one of those sectionals—was massive. She had more than enough room to move. Not that she looked like she would be moving any time soon.
She sighed again and curled into an even tighter ball, burrowing her face into the blanket she’d tucked around her. Her unruly mop of bouncy curls slid over her cheek and shielded her face from him.
He couldn’t resist tucking the soft strands behind her, then chuckled softly when one of the curls wrapped around his finger like a living thing.
“Sleep tight, honey,” he whispered and reluctantly turned to leave.
“Whaz’appening?” Vicki sat up with a gasp. She moaned when her neck protested the sudden movement.
“Crick in the neck?”
Her head swung toward the kitchen, where the all-too-familiar voice had come from, and she winced again.
