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Gracie woke up with drool crusting her chin. Ugh. How long had she been asleep with her head jammed in the corner of the couch? She used the collar of her shirt to scrub off her chin. Then froze. Why was Elvis Presley singing in her kitchen?

Another voice joined in with Elvis.

“Argh,” Gracie groaned, sounding half-pirate. No wonder her brain felt muddled. Her ex-husband was here, singing off-key to “Don’t Be Cruel”—and making some sort of stir-fry if her nose was to be trusted.

“Need more pain medicine?”

“Huh?” Gracie gingerly rolled her head to stretch her neck, stopping when her gaze landed on Noah standing between the kitchen and living room, a white dish towel draped over one of his shoulders. Goodness, she’d forgotten how much space Noah could fill with those shoulders. Her gaze drifted down to his white shirtsleeves stretched taut over his muscular biceps.

She covered her eyes and massaged her forehead. Not muscular. Average. Completely average. Well, Major-League-pitcher average. Some might place that in the category of muscular.

“Gracie?”

She spread her fingers to peek at him and his average-Major-League-pitcher-muscular biceps. “What? No. I don’t take pain medicine. Makes me feel terrible. Makes me feel—” Like this. “Wait. More pain medicine? Did you give me pain medicine?”

He scratched the side of his overgrown beard. Seriously, someone get the man a razor. She’d always hated how he let his beard grow out like that every baseball season, all unruly and gnarly by the time October arrived. Though it did always sort of fascinate her to see how light and tawny his beard looked compared to the much darker shade of brown in his hair. Looked like some gray was sneaking its way into both.

He stopped scratching his beard long enough to hike a thumb over his shoulder. “I found a prescription bottle for pain meds in your patient belongings bag. You were kind of whimpering and your face was all scrunched up, so I figured it would help. You know I can’t stand seeing you in pain.”

“I’ve been sleeping the past”—she glanced beyond him to the clock on the kitchen wall—“five hours.”

She did a double take. Five hours? She let out another groan, this time one hundred percent pirate. So much for a quick catnap.

“Here.” He took the pillow out from beneath her feet and shoved it behind her shoulders.

“Oh, would you knock it off with the pillow already? How did you even give me those pills?”

He shrugged. “I crushed them up and mixed them with water, then used an eyedropper syringe-looking thing I found in the bathroom cabinet to pour it drop by drop into your mouth. What?” He adjusted the dish towel back over his shoulder. “That’s what nursesdo.”

“That’s what psychotic killers do.” Gracie grabbed her forehead. No wonder she felt groggy. “I need some water. Narcotic-free water. I see now I need to specify.”

The front door burst open and slammed shut.

“Sorry it took me so long to get back.” Mona kicked off her high heels, talking a mile a minute into her purse. “I take it Matt got you inside okay. You need anything? Water? Tea? Sandwich?” Her nose crinkled. “Did someone drop off Chinese?”

When Mona finally looked up, her red lips froze in a circle as her eyes swiveled back and forth between Noah and Gracie, finally landing on Gracie. “What is he doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Mona,” Noah said in a low, sexy drawl.

Sexy? No. Gracie clutched the sides of her head tighter. See? This was exactly why she didn’t take pain medicine. Not only did it affect her ability to operate heavy machinery, it clearly affected her ability to think rational thoughts around her husband.

Ex-husband!

How was she supposed to fix the ending of her story in this condition?

Mona stomped to the couch, her rosemary scent arriving a beat before she did. “Is this why you won’t get serious with Luke? Because you’ve been planning to let this buster move back in with you?”

“Hey. Someone needs to take care of her,” Noah said. “Who’s Luke?”

“He’s not moving back in with me. I can take care of myself.”

“Well, listen here, little missy.” Mona blinked rapidly, which she tended to do when she was flustered. Along with using terms like buster and little missy . “You can’t take care of yourself, not really. But obviously we have things under control here, so as for you, Jack ”—She blinked and pointed a finger at Noah—“you can hit the road.”

“Right. You have things so under control you would have left her alone to die if it hadn’t been for me,” Noah said. “Who’s Luke?”

“You would’ve left her alone to die five years ago if it hadn’t been for me,” Mona shot back.

“Nobody’s dying here. Would you both knock it off?” Gracie shifted on the couch and winced. Before she could stop them, both Mona and Noah were in front of her, attacking the pillow and clawing her hair.

“You need that pillow adjusted?” Noah asked.

“Is your hair caught on your shirt?” Mona’s talons snagged several long strands.

“Stop. Stop. ” The pain medicine was not only making Gracie fuzzy, it was making her sick to her stomach.

“See?” Mona took over fluffing the pillow behind Gracie’s back with enough vigor to bruise another rib. “She wants you to leave.”

Now Noah’s hands were on the pillow, whacking and tugging. “No. She said she wants you to stop.”

“I want both of you to stop. Good grief, I’d be better off with Kathy Bates’s character straight out of the movie Misery taking care of me instead of you two.” Gracie fanned her face. “I don’t feel so good.”

“What do you need?” Mona and Noah spoke at the same time, jockeying in front of her for positioning. At least they’d stopped playing tug-of-war with the pillow. “Water? Ice? Fan? Water?”

“You already said water .” Mona elbowed Noah’s side.

“I know I already said water .” He elbowed her elbow.

The two of them elbowed each other, arguing back and forth about what had been said and not said.

“Can one of you just grab me a trash can before I puke?” Gracie interrupted.

Noah spun in circles. “Trash can... trash can...”

“Are you sure you don’t need to have a bowel movement?”

“Mona, you did not just ask me that.”

“Why not? The nurses were always asking you that.”

“Here.” Noah raced back from the kitchen. He shoved a brown paper grocery sack into her face.

It must be the one she kept under the sink for trash. Gracie pushed it away. “ Ugh , that smells awful.”

“What do you mean?” Mona yanked it from Noah’s hands and sniffed. “Smells like tuna. I brought some cans with me the other day to make a tuna salad sandwich while I was waiting to meet a client. You don’t like tuna salad? Because I left a bowl of it in your fridge.”

“She hates tuna salad,” Noah said, grabbing back the sack and crumpling it shut. “How did you not know that?”

Gracie was kind of wondering the same thing.

“I did know that,” Mona snapped. “I just figured it was a phase she would have grown out of by now.”

Noah grunted and tossed the closed sack into the kitchen. “Maybe you need some more pain medicine. I read somewhere that too much uncontrolled pain can make you nauseous.”

“More pain medicine? More? ” Now Mona grunted. “Well, no wonder she’s nauseous. She’s never been able to keep pain medicine down. How did you not know that?”

“Maybe she never needed pain medicine when we were married,” Noah responded. “Did you ever think of that?”

“Or maybe you were just never around enough to see all the times she was in pain. Did you ever think of that?”

“Or maybe—”

“Enough. You want to know what’s causing me pain right now? You two. Acting like children.” Gracie warned them both off with each of her hands in the shape of a gun. “If one of you even thinks about fluffing this pillow again, there will be blood. Now leave. Both of you.”

“What about dinner?” Noah said.

“What about your bowels?” Mona said.

“Get out!”

Noah and Mona glared at each other. “Well,” Mona said, waving Noah toward the door. “You heard her. After you.”

“Please. Ladies first. After you.”

“Oh, but I insist.”

“I insist more.”

“I insist you stop insisting.”

Noah and Mona elbowed each other all the way to the door, both squeezing out at the same time due to their equal amounts of insistence. When the door finally slammed shut on their bickering, Gracie sank against the pillow in peace.

Well, in peace except for the terrible realization that supper was burning and she needed to go to the bathroom.