My eyes snap open. I’m on my couch, wrapped in a soft blanket that smells like my home and something distinctly him. The fire is low embers now, glowing faintly. My phone is on the table beside me, exactly where he must’ve placed it.
Panic flares—I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.
I sit up quickly, heart racing.
My chest tightens. Not with fear. Not with embarrassment. With something warmer. Softer. More dangerous.
Yearning.
I curl my fingers around the blanket, lifting it to my chin, inhaling the scent that somehow already feels safe.
I haven’t felt safe in a long time.
Footsteps sound from the kitchen, slow and unhurried, like he isn’t surprised to find me still here.
“Morning, trouble,” he calls softly. “Sleep okay?”
My throat closes around the word I haven’t been able to say in months.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Because somehow in his warmth, in his quiet care, I finally, finally did.
Eleven
Stud
The storm brings down inches of snow like when I was a kid in Ohio. North Carolina mountains get plenty of snow, but this blizzard was unexpected. Two days together in this small space together, I’m surprised I haven’t gone stir crazy. Then again, I’m enjoying my company and truly relaxing in this space with her.
The first thing I register when I wake is the quiet.
Then the warmth.
Holley is still asleep on the couch—soft breaths, tangled hair, wrapped in my blanket like she belongs in it. The sight hits me low and hard. I didn’t mean to watch her sleep last night, but hell, something about the peace on her face made it impossible to walk away.
She finally slept.
That’s all I wanted.
I slip toward the bathroom, giving her the rest she damn well deserves, and turn the shower on hot. Steam fills the stall fast, curling along the ceiling. I step under the spray, letting the heat crash over me, loosening muscles I didn’t even know were tight. My hands rake through my hair as I tilt my face up into the water.
I’m just starting to wake up when I feel it.
A prickle—awareness—like I’m being watched.
I turn slowly.
She’s standing in the doorway.
Bare feet. My blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Hair messy from sleep and eyes… fixed on me—wide, sleepy, hungry in a way she tries to hide but can’t.
Her gaze drops.
Yeah. That’s right, sweetheart.
A slow smirk spreads across my face. “See something you like, Holley?”
Color blooms across her cheeks, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t deny it. Her fingers tighten on the blanket, knuckles pressing white fabric.
