What if she needed him? No, bad thought. Bad, bad thought.
The quiet settled around them.
When she squirmed, getting more comfortable against him, he whispered, “For the record, I’m not proud of my temporary stint as a hound dog.”
Heat, scented by his body, wafted around her, making her warm and sleepy. “No?”
His fingertips trailed up and down her bare arm. “It was stupid and immature.”
“I didn’t realize.”
He squeezed her. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No.” She surprised herself when she kissed his chest. Just a quick kiss, but still... “Do you know why you became a hound dog?”
“Yeah, I do. Now go to sleep.”
“Okay.” She was too lethargic to argue with him.
Even as she drifted off, she stayed very aware of Hogan against her—and she knew he was still awake.
* * *
The knock on the door woke Hogan and he opened his eyes before realizing that Violet sprawled half over him. He lifted his head, awareness hitting him hard.
Her slender thigh draped his lap, a warm, soft weight against his morning erection. Her hair spilled over his chest and shoulder, her hand in a loose fist over his right nipple.
The knock came again.
Well, hell.
He didn’t want to move, definitely didn’t want to disturb her, but he glanced at the clock and saw it was after nine. He came up to an elbow, and she awakened.
He watched her dark brown lashes flicker before her eyes slowly opened. She looked at his chest, down his body—then shot her gaze to his face.
“Good morning.” Jesus, she was beautiful in the morning. He opened his hands on her back and resisted the urge to fondle her bottom.
Her eyes flared.
She hadn’t yet caught on, obviously. “Someone’s at your door.”
As if she expected to see someone standing outside the bedroom, she scrambled up and pulled the sheet to her chin.
Hogan laughed. “The front door.” Ready to be gallant, he stood.
Her interest went directly to his lap and stayed there.
“Keep that up,” he warned her, while pulling on his shorts, “and it’ll be an R-rated greeting I give to your visitor.” Already he had more than usual morning wood, but then, given how he’d awakened, it made sense.
When she stayed silent, he sighed. “Clearly, you’re not a morning person. Stay put and I’ll do the honors.”
Hoping it wasn’t a boyfriend of some sort coming to call on her, Hogan opened the door.
Honor and Jason stood there.
“You didn’t hear the door?” Jason asked, looking past him at the couch—where clearly no one had slept. His expression changed. “Damn, sorry. Maybe we can just—”
“Come in.” Brain scrambling, Hogan stepped back to allow them entrance. What might have happened if his brother and sister-in-law hadn’t intruded?
Nothing, you ass. The woman is sick. Still, conversations from the night before flooded back on him. He wanted to dissect everything that had been said, the assurances she’d given him, the subtle ways she’d started to soften toward him.
Instead he had to entertain.
“I thought you’d be up.” Jason barely kept his humor in check. “I know it was a late night, but you’ll be opening the diner today, right?”
“Yes.” He didn’t bother explaining that he’d still been in bed, Violet half atop him, their legs entwined. He could still feel the softness of her, the cushion of her breasts against his chest, her silky hair tangled over him—
Honor looked around, then whispered, “Violet is still sleeping?”
Get it together. “Yes, she’s—”
“Right here,” Violet mumbled, coming down the hall in her thick housecoat, the comforter once again dragging in her wake. She glanced at Hogan, then away, in her sluggish beeline for the couch.
Honor immediately went after her. “You’re still so sick. I’m sorry.”
“She’s a little better,” Hogan said. “But she’s lousy in the mornings.”
Jason said, “Antibiotics are an amazing thing.”
“I don’t know,” Honor mused. “Could be your brother’s good nursing skills that are doing the trick.”
“Maybe.” Arching a brow, Jason grinned at Hogan. “Colt’s on his way.” He nodded at Hogan’s lap. “You, ah, might want to get on some pants. Denim maybe. Something sturdy.”
“Shut the hell up.” But he went down the hall, taking deep breaths with each step, and found his pants. Behave, he told his dick. Now, with the house full, it should be easier to do.
On his way to the bathroom, he heard Violet say, “You guys, this isn’t—”
“Any of our business,” Honor happily finished for her.
Hogan could almost see Honor smiling. Such a caring person, and not a snide bone in her body.
He wondered if she woke up grouchy. Didn’t seem likely; Honor was always a sweetheart.
In rapid order, Hogan dressed, brushed his teeth and finger-combed his hair. He would have liked to shave, but he’d just made it back to the small living room when Colt arrived.
For his son, nothing seemed amiss.
Jason had coffee going and Honor pulled a bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies from her tote.
They gathered in the kitchen. Hogan saw to it that Violet took her medicine, and to everyone else’s amusement, she let him. It didn’t occur to him that it might seem uncommon for him to feel her head for fever, or to suggest ibuprofen. At least, it didn’t until he realized they were all gawking.
Honor quickly said, “The cookies aren’t really homemade. All I do is bake them, but Colt likes them.”
“I do,” Colt agreed, putting three on his plate and then serving Violet.
She smiled at Colt, thanked him and said, “I’m not dying, people. I don’t have to be coddled.”
Except that she’d wanted to be coddled last night—by him.
“I can help again today,” Colt offered. “I’m cutting grass
