He slid me a look that under any other circumstances might have made me laugh. Without another word, that long body unfolded itself from the furniture, getting up to feet that I knew were long, and he turned to me, that handsome face aimed right at me. “Couch is fine, Luna. I’ve got it.”
He had it.
With a nod that I wasn’t completely feeling, I walked up to the couch, beside him, and dropped the mound of sheets and blankets, and extra pillow on the end. I watched as Rip got to his feet as I shook out the sheet and then tucked it into the cushions.
But he didn’t say a word as he watched what I did for long moments before finally asking, “You wanna sleep here too?”
Did he…?
Numbly, at least that’s how I felt, I thought about his question for all of fifteen seconds—if that—and said “Okay” before I could stop myself.
Okay. To sleeping on the couch too.
Who does that?
Me. That’s who. Someone was going to feel really dumb and needy later.
But I’d worry about that afterward. Way afterward. My pride wasn’t so big that I’d try to be tougher than I really was.
Because the truth was: I didn’t want to be alone.
And I was a dummy for thinking that.
But oh well.
“All right,” Ripley said softly… so softly, I couldn’t help but glance at him, wondering where all this tenderness was coming from.
He just feels bad, my brain whispered.
“Come on,” Rip kept speaking, and I looked up to see him dropping onto the couch and leaning back with a big sigh. His arm was up on the back of the seat as he let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “Stretch out here, I can sleep in this corner.”
I blinked, the exhaustion hitting me hard. He wanted me to lie down while he slept sitting up?
“I can sleep anywhere. Come lay down. I need to get some rest.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Everything will be fine,” he said.
Pressing my lips together, I nodded. He was here. I was going to lay down beside him. Okay.
God, how I wished that was true.
It wasn’t, but for tonight, I would take it.
Rip patted the spot beside him. “Come on.”
I did.
I took two steps and plopped down on the couch, one cushion down away from him.
He yawned, watching me the whole time. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I told him pretty half-heartedly, toeing off my boots. I had forgotten I’d put on Pac-Man socks that morning. It was the most fun I’d wanted to go. That, and all my jewelry had been strewn all over the place.
Before I could realize what he was doing, he reached across the couch and grabbed my hand, pulling it—and me—toward him. I stopped what I was doing and blinked at the sight of his big hand, those long fingers, perfectly short nails, engulfing mine. Then he pulled again, making me stretch out on the couch.
Rip got to his feet, grabbing the pillow and blankets from the armchair. He shook out the blanket right before throwing it on top of me. I just watched him as he stood over the couch, kicking off his shoes, his hands going to the top button of his jeans and undoing it. It was my turn to yawn as he walked to the end of the couch, directly beside where I was laying and plopped down. I could feel the heat of his thigh and the weight of him make my couch sink.
