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This was . . . this was Reuben’s office.
Holy heck balls.
“Ahh, you’re awake.” Reuben stepped out of the bathroom in a clean shirt.
What time was it? Had she slept all night?
Oh God.
She’d fallen asleep on top of him. How embarrassing.
“What time is it?” she asked, scrambling to stand up.
The world around her swayed.
Fudge knuckles.
“Are you all right? What’s wrong?” he snapped, grasping her around the waist.
Whoa. He could move fast when he wanted to.
“I’m okay . . . just my blood pressure. I have to be careful not to stand up too fast.”
“Then don’t stand up so fast again,” he grumbled at her. “It won’t help that you didn’t have dinner.”
No, that was true.
“You need to make sure that you’re eating and drinking properly. Or I’ll happily ensure that happens.”
Yikes.
“What time is it?” she repeated.
“It’s one in the morning. The power came back on about twenty minutes ago.”
Good. That was good, right?
“We can go home?”
He eyed her. “Yes.”
Why was he barely talking? Was he mad at her? Did she drool on him?
Oh God. That was it. He’d had to change shirts because she’d drooled on his last one.
Wait. No.
He hadn’t had a shirt on earlier when she’d fallen asleep in his lap.
Yikes.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she said, looking around frantically for her handbag. “I, um . . . storms always freak me out, and I get tired, and yeah . . . ”
Wow.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why do I get tired? Adrenaline drop, I’m guessing.”
