Something about Macon tugs at my core. I am aware of him on a level that I’m not with anyone else. Is it because of our past? Or is it just base attraction? Likely both. I know he wants to be friends. Friends who flirt. I know this, but I can’t yet trust it.

Macon clears his throat, his brows lifting. I haven’t answered him, and he’s obviously not going to go away until he knows why I’m in bed.

“I have my period,” I say. “I feel like bloated death, and I don’t want to get up.” True. But also not true.

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’re just gonna come right out and say that, huh?”

“Should I be ashamed of a normal bodily function?”

The tops of his cheeks turn ruddy, and he grunts.

Not really an answer, so I curl up on my side and try to get comfortable again. Earlier, I’d been a twitchy ball of throbbing distress, but a couple of pain meds have me nice and relaxed. “I’m going back to sleep now. Make your own breakfast.”

“I already did.” He leans closer, bringing the scent of the sage soap he uses and something purely Macon. The scent of him is so familiar, burned into the many layers of my memory, that in my weakened condition, it makes me feel like I’m home. I don’t like that idea one bit. I stare up at him with a brow raised to question his invasion of my personal space.

He huffs out a breath as if I’m cute in the way angry kittens are, then returns my look. “You going to get up at all?”

So much for repressive glares. “Nope. Make your own lunch too.”

“Delilah.”

The warning in his tone has me snorting. “You really don’t want to mess with me right now, Con Man. I have superhuman powers bestowed upon me by the period goddesses.”

Sadly, there is no such period goddess, only an evil she-devil who makes my life a living hell once a month. I’m weak as twenty-second tea and abnormally tired. My boobs hurt, too, and there is no way I’m wandering around Macon’s house without a bra. Hence, my self-imposed day in bed.

Also, not entirely the whole truth. I need a break from Macon. He’s too much for me right now. I shouldn’t be craving the sight of him. I should be able to think of things other than Macon’s laugh, Macon’s teasing ways, his dark honey rumble of a voice. Argh! I’m doing it again.

“Shoo,” I mutter. “Go away before someone drops a house down on you too.”

Macon rolls his eyes at my Wizard of Oz quote and then hauls himself up, using his cane for leverage. “Fine. But I’m giving North the employee-of-the-month award.”