His head hurt. His mouth was dry. But it all would have been worse--so much worse--if Tawny hadn't been there the night before to ply him with food and Tylenol.

Rolling over, he breathed deep and caught the lavender scent of her hair, and barely resisted the urge to pull her closer and feel the sweet heat of her skin that was still warming his sheets.

He could sense the steady rise and fall of her body against the mattress as she breathed, and while she slept beside him, he played over the night before.

She had been incredible. Beyond incredible, really. The way she moved with him, like she needed him, like she knew what he wanted before even he did...it was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Of course, it could have been his alcohol-induced buzz, but somehow he didn't think so.

That was just Tawny.

But that was the problem, too, wasn't it? That was Tawny he'd been with. The mother of his child. The woman who still barely knew him but who he was tied to for life, in some way or another. And now that they'd been together twice, were they committed now? A couple?

He had talked about trying to see if that was a possibility, but did sleeping together again seal the deal? He wouldn't turn away the mother of his child, and after sex like that and the way she'd cared for him when he was buzzed and on his way to drunk, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to.

He pulled the sheets tighter around him, but then he felt the mattress move and turned to find Tawny shifting. Her long lashes fluttered open, and then her hazel eyes widened as she took him in.

In that instant, he knew that last night had definitely not solved anything.

She pulled the sheets so tightly around her naked body that she practically ripped them off of him, and then stumbled from the bed so quickly that he was surprised she hadn't left a puff of cartoon dust behind in her wake.

Someone was having serious second thoughts.

"Good morning," he said, then pulled his duvet over his lap as he straightened in the bed, trying to keep his tone light in the wake of her obvious panic.

Her gaze raked over him, focusing for a moment on his bare chest, then she squeaked, "Good morning. I should probably grab my things and just..."

She didn't bother explaining what she "just" had to do. Instead, she searched the floor, apparently in search of her clothes. If she didn't look so frantic, it might have even been cute. Her hair was sticking out in all directions and the little swell of her belly in the sheet made her look semi-ridiculous.

"Your clothes are over here. I dropped them on my side of the bed when I--"

"Right, right,” she cut in, cheeks pink. “I remember." She hurried to his side of the bed, and he reached to grab her shirt, but she beat him to it. Careful to hold the sheet in place, she slipped the shirt over her head and then wriggled until both her arms were in the sleeves.

"Um, I don't mean to be crude or anything, but...I have already seen you naked several times. It might be easier to get dressed if you just--"

"I'm good. This is fine. I do it like this when I’m alone too.” She snatched her pants from the ground, then frowned at the sheet-skirt she was now clutching at her hips. “What can I say? I’m a weirdo.” Her laugh was shrill and tinny and it was all he could do not to scoop her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

"I can go. Or I can hold the sheet up for you if you want. So I don't see," he offered. "Or I could get under the covers while you--"

“No, don’t be silly. It’s your place. I’m the one who can go. I’m just going to pop into the bathroom for a minute,” she said the words in a rush, and just as quickly the door snapped closed behind her.

He opened his mouth, wondering if he should yell through the door that they should talk, though he didn't have the faintest idea of where they might start. Last night seemed like the obvious choice, but then there was everything to do with the baby that they hadn’t even touched on. How they would raise him, how they would take care of him, what their relationship would be like while they got ready for him to come along.

Just considering the possibilities were beyond overwhelming, and he was sure she felt the same way. Maybe if he approached it gently, she might calm down a little and just be herself. Like the way she'd been last night at the bar while they'd talked about music. Or the way she'd been when they’d been talking that night by the lake.

Those times when she'd been most herself around him instead of this skittering, nervous--

The bathroom door swung open and Tawny emerged with his sheet folded neatly in her hands. She dropped it at the edge of the bed, then started speaking at the speed of sound.

"Ok, well, I should get going. Stuff to do and all. I hope you're feeling okay and I'm sure we'll be in touch soon, so--"

“You don't have my phone number,” he said, cutting through her avalanche of nervous words. She looked alarmed for a minute before winding up again.

"Oh, um, right. I'll need that, I guess. I'll just...um..." She scrambled toward the kitchen and started opening drawers at random.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Looking for a pen."

“I’ll text you right now and you’ll have it." He picked the smart phone up from the ground beside him and then tapped out a quick text to her.

"Oh. Right. Perfect. Well, the world waits for no man. So. Have a good day."

She moved the the door, swung it open, then disappeared down the steps without so much as another glance at him.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure her out. He scrubbed a hand over his face, remembering what Rex had said in the garage the day before.

Was it possible that it had been bad for her? Both times? That, in his own addled state, he hadn't taken care of her the way he'd thought he had?

Jesus, what if she’d been faking it?

His gut churned. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. And she seemed to like him the rest of the time. In fact, she only seemed to bolt and not want to talk to him anymore after they’d had sex. He’d be thick as a brick not to wonder if the two things were related.

He’d wanted a chance to make it better for her--but what if last night had only made it worse? He supposed it might not matter, that they would--if Tawny's actions were any indication--likely never have sex again. But still, something about it stuck in his craw.

Could he really allow her to walk around thinking he was shitty in bed? She was the mother of his child, after all. And if she did...

Well, he didn't know what, but he barely resisted the urge to get in his truck, race her home, and try to set the record straight once and for all.

She clearly needed some space right now, and he was going to give it to her.

But come tomorrow? He was going to put on the full court press to give her something else. And this time, it would be so good, her legs would be too weak to walk away even if she wanted to.