Page 67 of Smitten with the Single Dad

That made him laugh and a moment later she joined in.

The shower upstairs shut off, so reluctantly, he let her go. “Your turn.”

Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “Go take some medicine, Wyatt.”

“Go wash away the chaos of the evening, Vica.”

She started to climb the stairs, but stopped on the third step. “Thank you for marrying me.”

He winked at her. “Anytime.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Even though they got home late, and by the time Vica had showered and crawled into bed, it was past one in the morning, but she couldn’t sleep. She also refused to sleep in the bed, coming out victorious in her argument with Wyatt, and instead, she took the couch. He was going to be in so much pain, the least she could do was give him his own bed. And the couch wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t his decadent mattress, but it wasn’t a board of nails or the hard ground either.

A quick check of her phone on the coffee table said it was past three now, and she still hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

Every time she closed her eyes—even before tonight’s accident—she would see Track’s dead body. She kept reliving that night, over and over again, in her mind. And all the “what-ifs” haunted her.

What if she didn’t know about self-defense?

What if she hadn’t been able to fight him off?

What if he’d been bigger and overpowered her?

What if Wyatt hadn’t been there to help her?

What if Track woke up and caught her? Would she even be alive?

If was nearly four in the morning before she finally threw back the blanket and sat up. Well, she wasn’t going to get any sleep, that was obvious. She mightas well be useful.

Cooking had always been a source of comfort and calm for her. So careful not to create too much noise in the kitchen and wake the house, she went to work gathering all the ingredients she would need to make homemade ricotta and mushroom ravioli. It was one of her father’s favorites and something she liked to cook when she was feeling sad. It always reminded her of her father and cheered her up. And now was the perfect time to find a little bit of extra cheer.

With her headphones in, she hummed along to her favorite alternative rock band as she rolled out the dough by hand with the rolling pin. She wasn’t able to locate a pasta maker, but that didn’t really bother her. She had made ravioli without a pasta maker many times.

Humming and swaying her hips as she sautéed the mushrooms in the saucepan with garlic, shallots, and herbs, she jumped only a little when a hand landed on her shoulder.

“Oh!” She pulled a headphone out of her ear and spun around to find Wyatt smiling at her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She turned off the music and pulled out the other headphone. “Did I wake you?”

He shook his head. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

Her eyes widened when she took in the bruise on his forehead. She knew it was there, but it was darker and bigger than when she said goodnight to him only a few hours ago. Reaching up, she brushed the hair off his forehead to take in the magnitude of the malady. “How is your head?”

“I took something for the headache. Luckily, they don’t think I have a concussion. I just hit my head on the side of the truck pretty hard.”

She frowned and pulled her hand away. “Oh no! I got flour on you. I’m sorry.” Grabbing the tea towel, she wiped the flour off of his head, careful not to apply any pressure.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was still getting used to the short hair, and the way it constantly escaped her hair ties and fell down around her face.

“Are you sore?” he asked.

She shook her head and turned off the stove, moving over to the counter where the dough for the raviolis was ready and rolled out. She just needed the mushrooms to cool a bit before she put them on the dough with the ricotta. Thankfully, Wyatt had a very stocked fridge and pantry. “I just can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes—even before tonight—I see Track’s face. Dead. And then I start thinking about all the things thatcouldhave happened. I was so very lucky. But so many women are not as lucky as me. So many women—including some of Track’s victims—did not know how to protect themselves.”

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