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Dean chuckled to himself as he trailed behind her, fully prepared to hold her hair or wipe her face with a wet washcloth. He sat on the side of the tub next to the toilet and gently stroked his fingers up and down her spine when the vomiting dissolved into sobs.
She slid on her knees closer to him, laying her head in his lap. “Why the hell did you let me go out last night?”
He shook his head. “I like how you managed to make this my fault.” He reached over to the faucet in the tub and soaked the cloth he’d barely been able to grab with his fingertips.
Jillian shivered slightly as he pressed the cold material to the back of her neck then melted into him with a marginally contented sigh. “That’s what white knights do, Sparky. If you’re gonna play the role, you gotta fulfill every part.”
“Who was the culprit last night?” He stroked her back gently, not missing any opportunity to touch her and kept his voice at a low tone to avoid sending a spike through her undoubtedly aching brain.
“My nemesis.” She mumbled into the denim covering his leg. “Tequila. It started out all innocent like with a margarita or two. Then Ainsley decided we needed to do shots.”
Imagining the perfectly styled and utterly proper girls her mother had roped into being her attendants getting shit-faced on tequila shots elicited a bark of laughter from Dean that had Jillian gripping her skull and groaning. He winced slightly. “Sorry, Jillybean.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes before he bent at the waist to bring his lips close to her ear. “Want some help back out to the couch?”
She nodded her head without moving it from his lap which, unfortunately for Dean, meant that it caressed his thigh in a way that tested his limits of self-control. Only the internal reminder that he didn’t want to irreparably screw this up and certainly didn’t want to take advantage of Jillian hung over kept his jeans from getting tight.
Well, too tight anyway.
With one arm around her waist, he guided her back to the sofa and tucked the thick blanket around her securely. “Coffee now or later?”
Red rimmed eyes peeked out from over the edge of the comforter she’d pulled up to nearly cover her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Without a single cell in his brain participating in the action, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly. “I get it. It’s hard to talk about.”
She scooted deeper into the cushions and looked up at him with a slightly lost and completely pathetic expression that sent an arrow straight into his hopelessly in love heart. “Lay with me? Just for a little while?”
Before she’d even finished speaking, he was stretching out on the couch beside her. Like there was a chance in hell he’d be anywhere else.
***
Jillian
Present Day
Someone glued sandpaper to the inside of her eyelids.
That was the first thought that popped into Jillian’s head when she tried to open her eyes, followed quickly by the realization that for the first time in nearly a decade she had to have eaten meat. Raw, rancid meat. That was the only explanation for the horrific taste clinging to her tongue.
She scrambled over the top of Dean’s slumbering form to race to the bathroom and scrub away the evidence that she’d had way too much to drink and had subsequently emptied the contents of her stomach when she woke earlier. She groaned as she assaulted her teeth with the brush liberally coated with paste as the memories of the previous night as well as her undoubtedly charming earlier worship at the altar of the porcelain god replayed in her head.
After two rounds of mouthwash and a quick splash of cold water over her face, she finally emerged from the bathroom. With a quick glance to confirm Angela was still sleeping on the other side of Dean’s closed bedroom door, she padded back into the living room. The enticing aroma of coffee tugged her slightly to the right where Dean was filling an enormous white mug at the kitchen counter.
“Black and strong,” he softly announced as he handed her the warm cup. “Luckily, your nap was short enough that the auto off didn’t kick in, so it’s still nice and hot.”
She took a small sip of the steaming brew and looked up at him. “You deserved better than that.” He opened his mouth but she held up her hand to silence him. “I know you’re going to argue to try to make me feel better, but I was an ass. I should have laid it all out to you from the beginning.”
At least half a dozen expressions cycled across his face, but she couldn’t identify a single one until his mouth settled into a cocky grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I shouldn’t enjoy you admitting you’re an ass this much, should I?”
Jillian shot him a narrowed glare and thumped his chest with the back of her hand. “You’re not making this easy, Sparky.”
“That was never part of this bargain.” He chuckled lightly and took a step closer to her. “But I accept your apology, soon-to-be Mrs. Carlisle.”
She twisted her lips to the side and squinted. “Mrs. Monroe-Carlisle.” It was important to her not to lose the strong tie to her grandfather, even for the brief period of time their union would last. Although she knew Dean wasn’t the traditional type, she’d hesitated mentioning her plan to keep her last name. Another less than stellar decision.
“That has a mighty fine ring to it.” Dean tapped his own coffee mug lightly against hers. “Happy Day Before Marriage, Mrs. Monroe-Carlisle.”
There wasn’t a single second of their interaction that was sexy or enticing. Not a moment that would incite romance or desire.
