Iris didn’t cave because of his argument or his adorable grin. She wanted that on the record, duly noted by the universe. She honestly didn’t like the idea of him thinking that it was just the natural order of things for him to take second best. She could already tell that he needed someone to champion his right to things like lazy mornings and comfy beds.
But on the other hand, she was already having a hard time stopping herself from touching him. If she had to spend the whole night thinking about him stretched out on her bed, she might actually lose her mind.
If she let him sleep on the sofa tonight, she could at least defer that particular problem until tomorrow, when she was sure this issue would come up again ... and when she suspected Keith would be a little more willing to cave. It was hard for her to believe he’d be able to take more than a single night on a sofa that was a few inches shorter than he was.
Pointing that out now wouldn’t do her any good: he was too stubborn for that. But he’d definitely be more amenable tomorrow.
It was maybe a tiny bit manipulative of her to not lay the whole plan out for him now, but she decided discretion was the better part of valor.
She sighed. “Fine. You can take the sofa. For tonight, anyway.”
Keith, too, seemed to be choosing discretion, because he didn’t start digging in his heels about the future. “Thank you. As your guest, I appreciate it.”
“At least let me make up the sofa for you,” Iris said.
She had no idea why that was so important to her, but it was. It wasn’t like it was a huge challenge to tuck a fitted sheet around some sofa cushions, so it wouldn’t have been rude to leave Keith to do it on his own. But she wanted, in some small way, to take care of him, especially since she figured he had an uncomfortable night ahead of him.
She picked out some sheets and neatly arranged them before offering him his choice of all the pillows and blankets she had on hand.
“Thank you,” he said with sincere, disarming sweetness.
Iris was used to honesty—if anything, unicorns were sometimes direct and forthright to a fault. But most of the time, it was the kind of honesty that made people point out her flaws or admit to being disappointed in her. It wasn’t open appreciation.
She was afraid a weird croak of emotion would come out if she tried to talk, so she just nodded. She finally pulled it together enough to say, “Good night, Keith,” in a relatively calm voice.
“Good night, Iris.”
The last thing she saw before she closed her bedroom door was him stretching out on the sofa, his bare feet dangling off the edge.
7
Keith did valiant battlewith Iris’s sofa all night long, and he came out of it with only a few patchy hours of sleep.
He had to ruefully concede that if she offered him the bed again tonight, he might not be able to resist it. He wasn’t used to sleeping either with his feet dangling out in midair or curled up in a near-fetal position, and his height made those his only options. He’d wasted way too much time tossing and turning and trying to get comfortable, and for what? He still felt like every muscle in his back had been knotted into its own separate pretzel.
Spoiled by soft living, he thought wryly.
