She wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t ask me the same back. “What areyoudoing here?”
My chuckle is heavy and unexpected. “Can’t sleep.”
“Me neither,” she replies quietly.
“Moon chakras failing?”
Her quiet laugh is melodic like a forest nymph, and I nearly vomit in my mouth for noticing that. “I was opening another sort of chakra.” She looks ahead for a few breaths before continuing. “I’m not used to sleeping alone.”
I look at her with an open surprise that probably is a little too open. “Really?”
She smacks my shoulder with her hand. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“I met you naked in my backyard. Can’t blame me.”
“I suppose I can’t,” she chuckles. “But not that type of alone. The house is too quiet. I live with my grandma, and she’s not here today.”
My heart drops. “What? What happened to her?”
“Oh gosh, nothing,” she says quickly. “She’s just staying at my sister’s place because it’s next to the place where she plays bingo on Fridays.” She scratches her nose. “Nightmares come more often when no one is around.”
My head whips toward her only to find her lips pursed tightly together like she just realized she said too much. Why would she have nightmares? She seems like the person who would givemenightmares with her naked escapades in my backyard. I’m about to make a joke about that when I realize that her nightmares are real. Just like mine.
“Yeah. I get that.” It’s all I can say because this is not the type of conversation I’d have with someone after knowing them so short a time. Or ever. Maybe the reason I can’t sleep is my niece being upstairs, and I worry about her. I’m so used to living alone that I can’t relax with someone in my space. A kid is a big responsibility, and there’s no way I’m failing this task. Especially if my mind chooses this night to relive some of the bad memories from the past.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asks when it’s clear I’m not bringing it up myself.
I shrug—my non-sleeping demons are for me only.
She grins. “Maybe you should open your own sleeping chakras?”
I snort. “Rookie here.”
“My yard is at your disposal.” She waggles a thumb.
“Even with peaches covering the light?” I ask, turning my head to her.
Her chuckle is light and breathy. “Even with them.”
“No, thanks.” I smirk. “No naked runs, got it?”
“Can’t promise.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, trying to stop her from laughing. At me, probably.
My eyes narrow at her. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Does it really make a difference?”
“Nora,” I growl a warning. She’s enjoying this, I can tell. Her eyes are shining with humor, like the knowledge that I know her name is the best gift I could give her in the middle of the night.
“So, we’re on a first name basis?” She tilts her head, a flood of hair sweeping the side of her face. “What’s your name? It’s not Steve, I suppose?”
Clearly she remembers her grandma calling me that.
“No.” I realize I’m practically snarling and work to smooth it. “Your grandma couldn’t remember it, and I didn’t tell her otherwise.”
“She sure couldn’t,” she mumbles vaguely, a softness in her voice that pulls at an unfamiliar part of me. Her grandma’s gift for disarming me must be hereditary.
I clear my throat. “It’s Jericho.”
