I flipped again.
At this point, I might as well be a potato for all the tossing and turning I’d accomplished.
I forced my eyes closed, but they popped wide again.
Damn it.
I couldn’t sleep.
Every minute that ticked past brought a bit more sobriety.
Okay, so they’d been right.
I was drunk off my rocker, as my grandfather used to say.
I scrubbed my eyes and sat up, checking the clock on the side table.
I’d come into the room at midnight, and the glowing red numbers now boasted four a.m.
No way I was getting any sleep tonight.
I shoved my feet across the carpet until the static electricity raised the hairs on my arms.
Maybe I could risk the drive home now that I’d sobered up a bit.
Being in my own bed might help.
I pushed up from the bed and crept to the door, being careful to keep my steps light, and cracked the door open.
The long, empty hallway stretched out in front of me, and I slipped out and down the stairs without waking anyone.
A warm aroma reached me when I stepped off the bottom stair.
Cookies.
I sniffed again to double check.
Yep.
Chocolate chip cookies.
I’d know that smell anywhere.
I followed the scent into the kitchen.
“Ash?” I breathed his name.
The blond mechanic stood next to the stove in nothing but his boxers and a red apron.
He glanced at me over his shoulder, and his smile was nothing short of devilish. “Look who’s up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” I eased closer and slid onto one of the barstools.
The high counter separated me from Ash, and I crossed my arms on the cold ceramic. “Are you baking cookies for Santa?”
“Why would I do that?” He withdrew a pan of cookies and set them on the counter in front of me.
I shrugged. “Figured maybe you believe in him like half the town.” I laughed lightly. “You should have heard them talking about it today, grown men and women as sure he was real as their kids.”
