We would end up killing each other. The only reason tonight went without a hitch—for the most part—was because of the wine, and if we had to drink every time we had to be alone in the room, we would end up just like our fathers.
And we couldn’t have that. But for the first time, I understood why Chris has always been so arrogant and haughty—to keep people out. He never let anyone close. Sure, he was always nice to people in general, apart from constantly ruffling my feathers, but he'd always had a barrier because he didn't want anyone to meet his family. I got that now. And somehow it made me like him more. Because I'd done the same thing. I'd stuck around in a group of people where no one knew me. Not really. And I’d been OK with that until that terrible article about my idiot of an ex.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Melinda?” I said under my breath while bringing the blankets to my chin, and watch as that fan spun, sending me off to a night of deep sleep.
Until I woke up in the middle of the night with my hand down the front of my panties, wet, Chris’s name on the tip of my tongue, and near to the point of no return. “Oh, no!” I yanked my hand from … myself and panted.
I sat up on the edge of the bed, shaking my head as I pressed my palms to my head. “This cannot happen. I don’t want this. I want nothing to do with this. I don’t want Chris. I don’t,” I chanted to myself, thinking that if I said the words aloud, I’d believe them.
“What a damn joke.” I stood and saw a robe with Bates Resort embroidered over the breast hanging on the closest door. “And, of course, it is soft.” I rubbed my cheek against the fluffiest cotton I’d ever felt. “Freaking hate that I like this place more and more.” I tightened the belt too tight from being frustrated, and my lungs constricted for air. I let out the knot and breathed a sigh of relief when the robe didn’t kill me.
I needed a drink of water and maybe a miracle to get me out of the same house as Chris Bates. I made sure the coast was clear when I cracked the door open and went to the kitchen. The floor beneath my feet was cold, and the lights spilling in the front windows came from the moon and the dusting of snow reflecting it.
When I saw an image like that, it was hard to believe a place like this—so majestic—even existed in this world when it was so cruel and full of ugly things. As the snow fell and silence overtook—all that could be heard was the gathering of snow—the fever of my “nightmare” faded, and the sight before me had me relaxing. I opened the stainless-steel fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the top off to quickly quench my thirst.
“Can’t sleep?”
The water went down the wrong way, and I choked when I heard his voice.
“Damn it, are you okay?” he ran up to me and patted my back, like some hero.
“I’m fine,” I said, gasping. “Went down the wrong way. You startled me.”
“Sorry about that. I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come down for a bottle of water.”
I wondered if he couldn’t sleep because he was dreaming about me? Doubtful. My body betrayed me for one night. That was okay. If it never happened again, I’d be okay.
“Yeah, I should have thought about that before I drank all that wine. I always wake up in the middle of the night because of it.” I was thankful for the lights not being on so Chris couldn’t see the lie I just told. My cheeks had to be as bright as a cherry with the fire roasting them. I felt like the poor marshmallows I’d set alight earlier.
“Me too,” he said, opening the fridge. The bright light made Chris come into view, and now I was looking at him and not his silhouette. His hair was messy; the scruff on his face was thicker than it had been when we went to bed. He was riddled with sleep, his eyes wincing from how bright the light from the fridge shone.
“It’s like the lights of heaven in here, for goodness sake,” he shielded his eyes with his hand and shut the door.
My eyes were glued to the robe he was wearing. It was like mine, but a dark blue. Some of his chest hair spiraled out of the neckline. It wasn’t too much, just enough to make a girl wonder how much covered the front of his body. It didn’t seem too thick, but just right, andthatwas something I shouldnotbe noticing.
But I did because of that stupid dream. Or because he was Chris effing Bates.
My gaze drifted down his body, and when I didn’t see any lines, a thought crossed my mind.
Was he not wearing any clothes under there?
It was four in the morning. Still too early for someone to come and save me. I needed to be saved. I wasn’t the damsel in distress type, but I was waving my white flag for someone to get me the hell out of here.
“Do you need a pain reliever?” he asked me, taking a swig of water, and I watched as that large Adam's apple of his bobbed.
“Excuse me?” I blinked away the…the…stupidity. He was not asking what I thought he was! He wasn’t asking if he could rid me of some pain.
“Medicine. For a hangover. You should take some just in case. There is a bottle in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom down here.”
Shit. He was cute when he cared. I mean, I’d always known that he had a caring side. He was nice to the kids in school, whether they were geeks, bullies, or whatever. That was one of the main reasons everyone loved him. But he was always arrogant…or just out of reach. Always above everyone else. I guess that was part of the appeal. Not here, though. Now he was just … Chris, without the covers. No. Scrap that. He was clothed. I needed to get my head out of the gutter. Fast.
“Um, I might, yeah. Thanks. I appreciate it.” “What was wrong with me? It was a dream. Who cared that he was in it? I had dreams like that all the time about celebrities and a weird reoccurring one about Kevin Costner, but that was irrelevant.
The point was … he stretched his arms over his head, the robe lifting to show the light skin of his thigh.
What was the point?
“No problem. I’ll be in bed, hoping that light didn’t burn out my corneas. Goodnight. Again.”
“Night,” I whispered, too low for him to hear as he made his way up the steps to the master suite. I laid the bottle of water on my neck to cool off.
The point was, having dreams of him wasn't a big deal. They were just dreams and held no importance.
If that was the case, then why did I have a feeling being around Chris was no longer going to be as easy as I made it out to be?
