“Nobody likes wet panties.”
“Depends on how they got wet in the first place,” her dream man muttered. “Let’s get you into bed and I’ll go get some more water for you.”
He set her down on the chair she had in the corner of the room then looked down at the pile of stuffies on her bed.
“I need Moody,” she told him.
“Moody?” He turned back to her.
“Moody the monkey.” She pointed at the worn, creamy-colored monkey. He picked it up, handing it to her. She seized hold and held him up.
“See, smiling.” She turned him over and the smile on his face turned down. “Grumpy.” She then hugged him tight and yawned. “Tired. Sleep.”
“Not yet, baby girl,” he rumbled. “You need to drink some more.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
She didn’t know where her backbone came from. She was tired, though and she didn’t feel like drinking. “No drinking. Sleep.”
“That’s not what’s going to happen. Stay there.” He lifted her up and she sighed.
“I like being carried. Greg. . .” she trailed off, remembering that he didn’t like her talking about her ex.
“Didn’t like carrying you?” he guessed as he tucked her into bed.
She sighed. “Don’t think he could. He had puny muscles. Not like your big ones. I didn’t know I liked big muscles until I dreamed up you.”
Her eyes drifted closed and he shook her gently. “Stay awake, baby girl. You need to drink.”
“Okie-dokie,” she said as she drifted off.
Crap.
That was hands down one of the weirdest experiences he’d ever had. And that was saying something, considering his life.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t remember any of this when she woke up. He shook his head, recalling everything she’d said about her ex.
What a douche.
He stripped off his wet boxers the pulled on his clothes. Moving quickly, he walked next door and grabbed a couple of Gatorades from his beer fridge. He kept them here for the boys when they’d had a few too many.
He looked longingly over at his ruined steak before tossing it in the trash. He’d get something to eat later. He walked back into her house, noting where she needed some security lights. She could also use a deadbolt on her door. He strode into the bedroom to find her cuddling Moody. She was fast asleep.
He sat next to her on the bed. “Sunny, wake up.”
She mumbled something then burrowed deeper under the covers.
“Sunny, wake up. Now.” He injected a sterner note into his voice, expecting instant obedience.
“No.” Her voice was childlike and he sighed.
Christ. Why him?
“Sunny, don’t be naughty. I want you to wake up and drink your bottle,” he quickly tacked on, “of Gatorade.”
“Ew. Yuck. No.”