IT TOOK FOUR more days, but the swelling and pain in my aching body finally dissipated. The bruises, however, were promising to linger for a while. I decided to face my father at dinner on Monday night. Warren and I took him to his favorite place to eat, The Red Stag Grill, and I prayed the ambient lighting would be dim enough to minimize the gawking at my battered face.

I felt bad for Warren. "Maybe you should wear a sign," I suggested as he stood in his underwear beside me at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth while I applied another layer of concealer. "I could make you a t-shirt with puff paint that says, 'I did not do this' and have an arrow pointing at me."

He spat out his toothpaste and laughed. "I appreciate the thought, but I can handle a few hateful glares better than I can handle puff paint. Your dad's going to be pissed."

I shook my head. "No, he's going to be terrified and that's far worse."

"You're right." He walked to the closet. "What should I wear?"

I smiled at his bare back in the mirror. "Absolutely nothing. You're perfect just like that."

"That would take the focus off your face," he said, flipping on the closet light. "What are you wearing?"

"A dress," I answered. "This place is fancy-schmancy, like Bram Stoker could have put it in his castle if Dracula served seasoned elk to the villagers of Transylvania."

"Elk?"

I swiped on a layer of mascara. "Yeah. All their plates are very manly. I think they infuse the meat with extra testosterone."

He laughed. "You should write their marketing copy."

"I know, right?"

"Do I need to wear a tie?"

"Do you own a tie?"

"No."

I smiled. "A button up shirt and jeans will be fine."

He pulled a pair of dark jeans off the shelf and grabbed a black shirt that was on a hanger. "Which dress do you want?"

I stood up and untied my robe. "Hand me the one that looks like a garbage bag. That sack will fit anybody."

"Adrianne would be so proud of you." He turned around as I shrugged out of my robe. Unable to look anywhere else, his eyes fell to my discolored stomach. "Did you call the doctor?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I have an appointment next week before Nathan's party. I'm hoping the splotches will be completely gone by then."

He hung his shirt on the bathroom doorknob and put his jeans on the counter before removing the dress from its hanger and lifting it over my head. Being careful to not dishevel my updo, he eased it down past my face and over my shoulders. "You're going to need a sweater," he said as I straightened the sleeveless top.

"I know."

"What if the bruises aren't gone when she sees you?" He stepped into his jeans and tugged them up over his black boxer briefs.

"Then she's going to ask a lot of questions," I said as I smoothed the front of my dress.

"That doesn't have to be a bad thing."

I walked to the closet to look for a pair of shoes. "And how do you propose I answer those questions?"

"Truthfully?"

I grabbed a pair of black ballet flats. "I can only imagine the look on her face when I tell her my baby is a super angel."

When I came back out of the closet, he was hiding his perfect abs behind the buttons of his shirt. "If she's going to deliver this baby, she needs to know it's not going to be a typical day in the OB ward."

"I'll think about it," I said as I slipped on my shoes. "Have you heard from Az today?"

He shook his head and walked into the bedroom. "No. He didn't call me back last night either."

"I wonder what's taking him so long."

Warren sat on the edge of the bed and bent to put on his boots. "I'm not sure, but I won't argue with another day of him out of our house. It's been so peaceful around here."

I laughed and fastened a silver chain around my neck. "I know."

The Red Stag Grill was busy for a Monday night in Asheville, but Dad had secured a table with high-back, cushioned chairs by the fireplace. Warren's eyes were everywhere except where he was walking as he followed me to the table, stepping on the backs of my heels twice.

"Sorry," he said the second time. "I'm looking out for elk hunting vampires."

I laughed. "Well, look out for feet before you make me fall and blacken my other eye."

"Ouch."

Speaking of black eyes, my father saw mine as we approached. He rose from the table and stepped around it in our direction, then grasped both of my shoulders. "Sloan Jordan, what on Earth happened to you?"

I patted one of his hands. "I'm all right, Daddy. I didn't want to worry you."

"H-how? I mean, what?" He looked at Warren. "What the hell happened?"

For the second time in our relationship, Warren held his hands up in surrender to my dad. "I didn't do it this time either."

I motioned toward the square, candlelit table. "Can we sit?"

Dad didn't move for a second as if he was having trouble remembering how to move his feet. He rubbed his hands down his face. "Why do you always show up with bruises?"

I put my hand on his arm and gently pushed him toward the table. "Dad, sit."

He sank into his chair, then Warren pulled one out for me. I kissed him quickly as I sat.

Dad leaned on his elbow, then braced his forehead with his white-knuckled fingers. "Please explain."

I reached over and touched his arm. "There was an accident while we were in Chicago. We were in the subway and a train derailed—"

"A train!" My father's voice caused the patrons at the surrounding tables to turn and look.

I leveled my gaze with his. "Dad, no screaming."

He took off his glasses and placed them on his napkin, then he pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed his eyes closed.

"Reuel pushed me out of the way of the train and I hit the concrete pretty hard, but they took me to the hospital and I'm fine. My uterus ruptured—"

He gasped.

I gripped his sleeve. "But you know me, I heal really fast. The baby and I are both fine. I'm not even sore now."

Dad sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "You're going to put me in an early grave."

I squeezed his hand. "Then I'll have to bring you back."

He smirked. "Not funny." He looked around. "Where is Reuel? I assumed he'd be here."

"He was pretty mangled by the train incident. He's laying low while his arm heals," I said.

"Did you see it today?" Warren asked.

I nodded. "I put my voodoo on it over breakfast. The muscle tissue has closed all the way around the bones now."

Dad's hand stopped midway to the bread basket. "Do I want to know?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

The waiter came to take our drink order, but as soon as he saw my face, he froze. I smiled. "Can I get a glass of water, please? No lemon." I winked my eye that was still bloody. "I'm fine, by the way."

"I, uh…"

"It's OK. Just bring my water," I said.

"I'll have a sweet tea," Warren added.

The waiter scurried away without so much as a nod. I smiled at Warren. "This is fun. We should have left the house days ago."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he looked over the menu.

"Sloan, a uterine tear is very serious. It can cause a lot of complications during your delivery," Dad said.

"Dad, my life is one big complication right now, but don't worry. The doctor in Chicago already advised me to discuss this with Dr. Watts."

"Are you going to?"

"Warren and I were talking about it earlier. I have an appointment soon. If I don't cancel it, she's going to see the bruises on my stomach. What do you think I should do?"

He slipped his glasses back onto his face. New lines I'd never noticed before creased the corners of his eyes. "I think the more your doctor knows, the better."

"Dad, she's going to think I'm nuts."

He chuckled softly. "Sweetheart, you are nuts."

I laughed, grateful that he was lightening up.

"You should tell her," he said. "She's bound by patient confidentiality, and she's a good person. She won't tell anyone."

"What if she doesn't believe me?" I asked.

He smiled. "Then heal half her caseload like you did at my office to prove it to her." He looked at Warren. "She almost put me out of business while you were gone, son."

"And since when is making people better a bad thing?" I asked.

Dad picked up his menu. "When I have to come live with you because I can't pay my mortgage, you'll know."

"Well, I don't think I can heal people from having babies, so we'll cross our fingers and hope she doesn't have me committed."

"Have you talked about what kind of delivery you'll have? I'm hoping it's a traditional hospital delivery in case you need a cesarean or emergency surgery," Dad said.

"I really don't know." I cringed and looked at Warren. "A hospital delivery sounds nuts to me. We don't want demons descending on Mission Hospital."

"You're right," he agreed. "We'll need to think about that one."

"All the more reason to talk to Dr. Watts," Dad said.

I groaned. "I know."

The waiter returned with our glasses, then hurriedly took our order. I ordered the short ribs and grits, hold the horseradish. Dad chose the lamb. And Warren ordered the elk because how could he not? He even asked for extra testosterone.

"I love you," I said with a laugh as the waiter left our table, hopelessly confused.

Warren leaned over and kissed my lips.

Dad looked pleased when Warren sat back in his seat. "How are the wedding plans coming along?"

I nodded. "They're good. We reserved chairs and tables this week, and we booked the caterer and cake lady."

"And by 'we' she means Adrianne," Warren added.

"That is true, but she did use my credit card."

"How is she? I haven't seen her in a while," Dad said.

I sipped my water. "She's doing well. Still pining over Azrael, I'm afraid."

"You don't want her to be with Azrael?" Dad asked.

"No. It's creepy."

He smiled. "What about Nathan?"

"I don't want her to be with Nathan either," I said without thinking it through.

Warren's head pulled back in surprise. "Oh, really?"

"She's not interested in Nathan," I said.

He folded his arms on top of the table. "But it's good to know you're pretty interested in the prospect of his relationships."

"That's not what I said."

"I meant, how is Nathan doing?" Dad asked, attempting to defer an argument.

Warren looked at me.

I shrugged and picked up a piece of bread. "I'm not sure. I haven't talked to him in a few days. Dad, did you know he's leaving the sheriff's office to go and work for Claymore?"

"I had no idea."

"Yep. We're having a going away party for him on Valentine's Day. You should come. It's at seven at my house. You can finally meet Nathan's parents."

"They are coming?" Warren asked.

I nodded. "I think his sister and her family are coming too."

"That sounds like fun. I should be able to make it," Dad said.

The rest of dinner was filled with pleasant conversation, mostly between me and my father. Warren didn't say much through the meal, nor on our ride home after. We pulled into the driveway at home, and I grabbed his sleeve when he moved to get out of the car.

"Hang on."

He turned with an expression that said, "What do you want?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then what's going on here?"

He turned his palm up on the steering wheel. "I don't like how you got all defensive about the idea of Adrianne dating Nathan. It bothers me that you're still holding on to feelings for him."

"That's not fair," I said. "I'm not holding on to anything."

"You were pretty quick to voice an opinion back there."

"It was only a reaction. It didn't mean anything."

His brow wrinkled with scornful doubt.

I put my hands in my lap. "OK. It would bother me if they got together. Would you believe me if I lied and said I'd be happy about it?"

He sighed and shook his head.

"It certainly doesn't mean I'm holding on to my feelings for him." I put my hand on his arm. "It's just going to take me a little while to completely not feel them anymore. I know I don't deserve it, but can you please be patient with me?"

He took a deep breath and squeezed my hand. "Of course. I'm sorry." He leaned over and kissed me. "Let's forget about it."

"Or…" I bit my lip. "I don't know if we should." I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. "Because you know, our makeup sex is really, really hot."

The lines across his forehead relaxed as his frown slowly bent into a smile. "I could stay mad for a bit longer, I guess." He slid his hand up my jaw and pulled my lips to meet his.

"Want to get a little crazy?" I asked, moving my mouth against his.

A low growl came from deep inside him. "What'd you have in mind?"

I stretched across his lap, but couldn't reach the buttons on the side of his seat, so I disconnected the kiss and my seatbelt so I could stretch a few more inches until I found the knob to move his seat back. Slowly, with my head pressed against his shoulder, the seat moved back away from the steering wheel.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" he asked, his chest rising and falling quickly as anticipation sent his breathing into overdrive.

I flashed him a sultry smile. To spare the leather of his Dodge Challenger, I kicked off my shoes before getting on my knees to crawl across the center console. It was more difficult than it had played out in my head. I got my left knee up on the armrest without too much trouble, then tried to stretch my right leg across his lap. With nowhere to put my foot, I jammed it in the painfully small space between the seat buckle and the door. Then I pushed with my left knee a little too hard and toppled forward, smacking my forehead against the driver side window.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

I pushed again, this time putting all my weight on my pinned right ankle. I straddled his lap, but when I tried to settle my right foot between the armrest and the seat, I slipped backward right on the horn.

HEAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN!

Startled, I thumped my forehead against Warren's.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh my god! This is the funniest shit I've ever seen!"

I plopped onto his lap. "It's sexy," I whined.

He had tears in his eyes and he was starting to hyperventilate. "It's the least sexy thing ever, but oh man. So damn funny." His whole body convulsed with laughter.

I scrunched up my face and poked out my bottom lip.

He jerked his thumb toward the house. "Can I please take you inside and try this again in our bed?"

I huffed. "I guess."

When he opened the car door, my foot slipped out, and I was officially doing a split across his lap. He cackled again.

"Warren, I can't move."

He couldn't either because he couldn't catch his breath.

In order for me to get up, he had to lay his seat all the way back. Then I could move my left leg across his face and slide out of the car onto the gravel. "Just shut up," I said, straightening my twisted skirt.

"This was officially the best night of my life." He was still panting as he got out of the car.

"I'm going to write a letter to Dodge," I grumbled.

He clicked the lock button on his key chain, then took my hand and led me up the sidewalk. "You make my life so interesting, Sloan."

"What is this?" I asked, pointing to a silver sedan parked at the curb.

"No idea."

All the lights in my downstairs were on, and when we reached the front door, we found it unlocked. Warren went in ahead of me.

The man with the red toboggan was sitting on my sofa.