“All of this sangfroid of yours makes me want to say weird and outrageous things just to try and catch you off guard,” I confessed. “But I’ll do my best to try to restrain myself. Today at least.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You’re very welcome.” I grinned. Holy cow. Were we flirting? Or was it just me and my overactive imagination?

“Miss Cooper,” he said in that rough low voice. “When’s the last time you slept? I mean really slept.”

“Do I look that bad?”

“You look fine. But you do look like you could use a decent night’s sleep.”

I turned away, embarrassed for some reason. Teary almost. Actually I completely knew the reason. Being worn out and having someone you liked call you on it kind of sucked. No matter how nice he was trying to be.

“This stalker thing and the messages and everything have got me a little…wound up, I guess,” I said. “Jittery, you know? Actually, you probably don’t know. I can’t imagine anything scaring you.”

“You’d be wrong about that.”

I said nothing.

“I never had any trouble sleeping in Afghanistan, but as soon as I returned stateside, it just all hit me. I don’t know if it was too quiet after being over there or what. But any little sound woke me up. I’d just be lying there wide awake and on edge. And the dreams…”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Also my dad was a truck driver and Mom used to hate it when he was away. Always said she couldn’t sleep a wink.” His gaze softened. “She wasn’t weak or frail. Trust me, no one wants to cross Mom when she’s in a mood. But she liked knowing someone else was there to help out if anything went wrong, I think. That she didn’t have to face things alone.”

“I can see that.”

“Do you think maybe you could lie down and take an afternoon nap while I’m here?”

I exhaled, untying the apron strings. “I suppose I could try.”

“Good.”

I packed up the baked goods while Ziggy went back to checking the apartment with the little black box thingy. Normally an afternoon nap was holiday behavior. A luxury item. I closed the curtains in my room and toed off my shoes. My king-size bed happened to be one of my all-time favorite places to be. Silvery gray pillows and comforter with a mattress that was to die for. I rolled onto my side and shut my eyes. Everything seemed strangely quiet. With the bedroom door closed, I couldn’t hear Ziggy’s footsteps in the main room. No taps were dripping, though the A.C. did click off and on. It wasn’t as dark as during the night, but I still felt weirdly vulnerable all curled up on my bed. Like someone was watching or something. Not a sensation I enjoyed.