Awol Bride. Victoria Pade

said next. “Any nausea or are you getting hungry?”

      Food was the last thing on her mind. But she said, “I’m not nauseous.”

      “Good. For tonight I just want to get some food and water in you, and get you to bed.”

      There wasn’t any insinuation in that but still it set off a tiny titillation in her that she tried to tell herself was just the chill.

      “Where are you sleeping?” she heard herself ask.

      He laughed.

      No, no, no, not his laugh. She’d always had a weakness for his laugh, too...

      “I’ll take the couch,” he assured her. “But we’re playing hospital tonight so I’ll be in every couple of hours to check on you.”

      And crawl into bed with her and hold her and keep her warm with those massively muscled arms wrapped around her?

      Ohhh, that was some weird flashback to the teenage Maicy’s fantasies...

      A blow to the head... I’ve suffered a severe blow to the head. It must have knocked something loose...

      Something she would make sure was tightened up again.

      “We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow,” she heard him say into the chaos of her thoughts.

      “So I can’t shower tonight?” she said when that sank in.

      “Nope. I’ll heat enough on the stove for you to clean up a little better, but I want you down until tomorrow. We’ll see then if you can shower,” he decreed, before heading to get the lantern.

      And as much as she didn’t want to, Maicy couldn’t help checking out his walk-away.

      That had gotten better, too.

      But it’s what’s inside that counts, she lectured herself.

      And she didn’t mean what was inside those jeans.

      It was what was inside the man that counted.

      The man whom she had—once upon a time—asked to marry her.

      Only to have him turn her down.