“No worries.”
She flops on the bed. “Need to set my alarm.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“Dunno.”
I catch her leg and roll her onto her side. “In your back pocket.”
She gasps. “Thank you.”
After she mashes her fingers against the screen, she shoves her phone in my general direction.
I take it and put it on the bedside table. “Can I recommend something comfortable to sleep in? Maybe brush your teeth, too?”
“Yeah, I should. I will.” She gets up and stumbles out into the hallway.
“I’ll get your PJs,” I say at her retreating back.
She’s already unpacked, so I go to the dresser and pull open the top drawer. There are two sets of over-the-top Christmas sleep wear—right next to my green flannel shirt, carefully folded.
Interesting.
Maybe she’s going to give it to me for Christmas.
Maybe she’ll keep it forever.
I grab the softer, more worn PJs, a red cotton set covered in oversized lights.
She comes back, already pulling off her clothes.
I’ve always loved how much of a nudist Rory can be, but given that she’s drunk and she’s never liked fooling around in her parents’ house while they’re home, I stop her when she gets down to her tank top and her panties.
“Here you go,” I say, kneeling in front of her. “Put these on.”
She puts her hands on my shoulders as she steps into the pants. “You don’t need to take care of me.”
“I know.”
“But you are.”
“Bare minimum.” I tug the waistband up her thighs, ignoring the way her skin feels as my thumbs graze her body. “A peace offering, if you will.”
“Two in one day, we’re maturing.”
I push to my feet and hold up the top. “Do you want to wear this, too?”
She makes a face. “Too hot.”
“K. Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Are you going to take off your own bra?”
She contorts her arms, the huffs a frustrated breath and spins dangerously.
I catch her by the shoulders. “Let me.”
