The stir of a warm body pressed close woke me up. I screwed my eyes tightly shut against the light of the sun pouring through a window and flung an arm up to cover them, not wanting to wake completely. I was pretty sure the pounding between my temples was just the opening feature to a day of misery and hangover cure concoctions that never actually worked.
There was a throat clearing, and I dropped my hand and forced one of my eyes open.
“Morning.” I croaked the word and smiled up at Vic, who stood watching me from the end of the bed, arms folded, brow wrinkled. “You’re home early.”
“It’s nearly three.”
In the afternoon? I cleared my throat, which caused my stomach to roll and head to throb, and felt an arm slink around my waist.
What in the hell?
I looked at Vic as if I expected him
