Page 118 of Bears Behaving Badly
“Not…all the time.”
…and finally got the front door unlocked. They shuffled their way past the foyer and living room, Annette dumping David onto one of the kitchen stools as she went to the fridge for an ice-cold bottle of water. Midchug, she waved another bottle at David.
“Yeah, thanks. That’d be great.”
“Ahhhhhh!” Another swallow, then she slid a bottle down the counter to him. “Remember, Dr. Tilbury said we have to push fluids.”
“It was an hour ago, Annette. I remember. And she saidyouhave to push fluids.”
“And I obey. Apparently multiple gunshot wounds wreak havoc on your system. Who knew?”
David snorted, opened his bottle, and took a few healthy swigs. “Where’s Pat?”
“He’ll be recovering from the stress of the outside world in the studio for a week or so. Which is going to cut into his organic gardening, but it’s not for me to tell him how to spend his time.”
“I feel like you probably tell him how to spend his time all the time.”
“Shut up, David.” She softened the rebuke with a kiss to the top of his head. “C’mon.”
David got up at once, which she liked, and followed her past the kitchen and up the stairs
(“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”)
to her room. It was exactly as she had left it the morning after she’d seen David’s bear, from the piled-up comforters and drawn shades to the… “Dammit.”
“You should’ve stolen Jenn’s alarm clock from the guest room.”
“But then I wouldn’t have been invited to partake of spatchcocked turkey. I’d use my phone, but…”
He started to laugh. “How many phones did you smash before you went back to alarm clocks?”
“Never mind.” She held out a hand, and he crossed the room to take it, then leaned down and kissed her. “How about a nice, long, sweet, drawn-out—”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“—nap?”
To his credit, David didn’t miss a beat. “Sounds great.”
“You’re adorable.” She climbed into bed, and David snuggled up behind her. “Knew you were a big spoon kind of guy.”
He chuckled, smoothed her hair, kissed the back of her neck. “Now you know all my secrets.”
“Not hardly.” But it would be fun to discover them all. Or at least interesting. She wanted to find out all his favorite foods, too. Hopefully many of them dovetailed with hers. It would be too sad if he didn’t like chocolate panna cotta but did like Satan’s crudité: celery. The unpleasant thought followed her
I will not have celery in this house!
into sleep.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, or five hours (stupid blinds), she came awake in the gloom and stretched. She was warm and comfy, and the painkillers had been doing their job well enough that she decided to skip that evening’s dose and take it from there.
There was a rumble behind her, and she felt David nuzzling the nape of her neck. “Hate being so goddamned groggy after a midday nap.”
“A small price to pay.” She yawned. She wriggled until they were facing each other. “How do you feel?”
“Better n’you, hon.”
