assholes.” She stepped inside and whirled around. “Oh, and Emmitt, as your friendly neighborhood PA, I need to tell you that apologies aren’t all roses and makeup sex.”
With that, she slammed the front door in his face. And locked the deadbolt.
Chapter 20
Emmitt came awake with a start, clammy and shaking like a leaf, his head pounding louder than the thunder that had woken him.
He opened one eye to find it was still dark. The pink cotton sheets were tangled around his legs, the rest of the bedding had been shoved to the floor, and his heart was pounding out of his chest as if he’d spent the night playing a fun game of naked Twister with the sexy PA down the hall instead of crammed in Paisley’s twin bed with Pookie the Cuddle Bunny and Mr. Big, the only two stuffed animals who had lived to tell the tale of the Great Paisley Purge of seventh grade.
Emmitt had waited for Annie to go to bed before turning in. Once the light under her door went out, he’d settled in his recliner for the night. It was a lumpy and impractical sleep space as it had always been, and after about an hour he gave up and crawled into Paisley’s bed.
It wasn’t his night with her—even if it had been, he doubted she’d have come home with him—so there was no sense twisting his body into a pretzel for another sleepless night when there was a spare bed available.
Not that a mattress and the ability to get completely horizontal helped. After spending the first three hours in bed rehashing the evening, he’d finally dozed off and managed to accomplish a whole forty-three minutes of sleep.
“Christ,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Kicking off the last of the covers, he sat up and grabbed for his head, hoping to put enough pressure there to help with the spinning he had going on.
Too late. A blinding pain came at him hard from behind his skull, stabbing him through the left eye, making his stomach roil and the rest of him feel as if he were standing on a tilt-a-whirl. He’d forgone his pain pills tonight in an effort to prove something to himself.
All he’d managed to prove was that he was an ass, just like Annie accused.
Annie.
Man, he’d screwed that up. The look she’d given him there at the end, before she’d locked him out of his own house, pretty much gnawed at him all night. He’d have locked himself out too.
And he wouldn’t have unlocked the back door for his sorry ass. Even when she was pissed, she couldn’t help herself. Which was all she’d been trying to do earlier, protect him from his own stupidity.
And he’d pretty much told her to fuck off.
Taking a few deep breaths, he tugged on his sweats and padded to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. Since he hadn’t partaken in the family dinner, he was about ten hours out from his last meal. And his prescription came with a strict “take with meal” direction.
Forgoing the light switch, because he didn’t need any more hurt right then, he opened the refrigerator door. Leaning his forearms against the top, he stared at his options, looking for anything that piqued his appetite.
“You really need to wear a bell around your neck. Or one of these times, I’ll get lucky with my aim,” Annie said.
He looked over his shoulder and knew what he was craving. Because one glance at her illuminated by the soft glow of the refrigerator light and he felt as if his luck was changing. He also felt the bumbling idiot who always said the wrong thing around Annie waking up.
She was wearing a cotton T-shirt again—her sleepwear of choice, although it wasn’t oversized or sporting her college logo. Tonight she’d gone for a plain white shirt with a low V neckline and an even higher hem that, had she been standing, would have come way up on her thighs.
But she wasn’t standing. Oh no, Annie was sitting on the island, bringing that hem to barely legal levels, while going after a gallon of ice cream with the scooper—as if she’d decided mid-snacking that it was an out-of-the-tub kind of occasion.
Her normally silky straight hair was sticking up everywhere, making him think she’d crawled into bed without bothering to dry it off. But what had his heart rolling over was that her eyes were soft and half-lidded, as if she’d sleepwalked