Tucker rubbed his head absently. “Your brother was worried when you didn’t answer his text. He’s not going to be back for a while. He asked if I’d hang here till he got back.”

“Oh. I’ve been…asleep. I didn’t hear his text.”

She averted her gaze, and Tucker didn’t call her on her lie. She may not be telling the truth, but he was damned if he was going to tell her how he knew she was lying.

“It’s fine, you know.” She found his gaze again. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know.” Tucker nodded. “But I don’t mind, and he said you…don’t like storms, and I’m here now. Besides, I’ve just chugged two and a half generous shots of bourbon. I doubt I’d be legally under the limit.”

She quirked an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her face, and Tucker noticed how chilled-out she was looking now that the initial shock of his presence had dissipated. “Storms drive you to drink?”

No…women he had the hots for calling his name as they masturbated drove him to drink. Off-limits women who were looking for some entry-level fun and flirting drove him to drink.

Ignoring her question, he prodded his skull gingerly, wincing at a particularly sore spot. “I think I gave myself a head injury,” he grumbled.

She laughed, then smothered it with her hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not funny.” But clearly she found him smacking his head highly amusing. He probably would have, too, if it didn’t hurt so fucking much.

“Hang on.”

She moved across the kitchen, all loose and limber. Stopping at the fridge, which was about five feet to his left, she grabbed a bottle of water and then opened the freezer section, reaching for something before heading in his direction. “Use this,” she said, holding out a small bag of frozen peas.

Tucker took them, halting her trajectory. “Thanks,” he murmured, placing the bag on the lump already forming.

Settling her hip against the counter about three feet away, she placed the bottle of water down. She was so close he could reach out and touch her, pull that cord secured at her waist, grab the crisscross of her gown, and yank. If he suddenly lost his fucking mind.

“You want me to look at it?”

He shook his head. God no. The last thing he needed was her touching him right now. He had an erection that he was beginning to think might actually require medical intervention, and she was naked under that gown. Oh…and he’d just heard her orgasm. “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

Her very relaxed gaze wandered over his chest. “You’re soaked.”

“Well, yeah…it’s a real frog drowner out there, in case you hadn’t noticed.”