“Where is here?”
“Montpelier.” Will let Cole process that as he got their bags out of the back, then tapped the bumper with his foot to close it. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
Cole got out of the car looking decidedly rumpled, a far cry from the well-groomed way he preferred to present himself. Even at the hotel—hell, even in his own apartment—Will had never seen him less than put-together.
Looks like you just have to run him down to empty to be treated to the sight of ruffled Cole.
Not the way Will would have preferred to do it, but…
“Why do you have a safehouse in Vermont?”
“Because I like maple syrup,” he said dryly. “Now get inside before the neighbors see us, huh?” Not that they’d care; these cabins were for tourists who came looking for the farm experience, not regulars who’d wonder who the fuck they were, but still. Safety first.
Cole ran a hand through his hair as he headed for the stairs, messing it up even further. Will resolutely ran through this season’s Cowboys statistics as he followed Cole inside, because he didnotneed to follow thatothertrain of thought to its logical conclusion, which of course was replacing Cole’s hand with his own.
Get a fucking grip on yourself. In private, preferably.
“Living room,” he said as he kicked the door shut behind them and dropped their bags on the floor. “Kitchen’s to the right, bathroom’s to the left, bedroom is straight back. There’s only the one, but the couch unfolds into a pullout.” He smiled. “Hope you enjoy it.”
Then Cole just… nodded.
Wait. What the fuck?
“I’m using the bathroom first, though,” he said, taking his bag over to the couch and rummaging through it until he found his sleep clothes.Sleep clothes, because the man was too posh to call them jammies.
“No.” It slipped out of Will’s mouth before he could stop himself.
Cole glanced over at him. “While I agree that you need a shower, I’m about to fall asleep standing up, so?—”
“I mean, no, you’re not sleeping on the fucking couch.” It just didn’t compute. Cole Dalton didn’t sleep on creaky pullout couches when there were other options available.
Cole rolled his eyes. “You just said I was.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to agree with me!”
Cole stared at him for a moment before coming over and laying his wrist across Will’s forehead.
He resisted the urge to lean into it. “What?”
“You must be running a fever.”
“Oh, shut the barn door.”
“I don’t think that’s how that idiom works.”
Will batted his hand away, then snatched Cole’s bag off the couch and carried it back into the bedroom. Cole followed him, irritation written across his face. It was enough to make Will smile. “Enjoy the bed,” he said with a grin. “It’s king-sized, so almost big enough to fit your body and your ego at the same time.”
“Absolutely not.” Cole sounded unexpectedly firm about being denied the simple pleasure of a bed that didn’t suck.
“Why not?” Will asked.
“Because your back is killing you.”
Uh. Um.
“It has been since the Tower,” Cole went on, blithely destroying Will’s former impression of his place in the man’s mental hierarchy. “You’re good at hiding your discomfort, but I was awake for most of that car ride and I saw you come out of the bathroom after your shower this morning. You’re covered in bruises and that tackle on concrete didn’t do you any favors, either. You need the bed.”
“I’ve slept better in worse places,” Will said almost by rote. He was not mentally or emotionally equipped for this level of attention to be paid to him by Cole.
