"That's not what I—"
"I know what you meant."
Silence. The fire crackles. The storm throws itself against the windows like it's trying to get in.
"I can't sleep," she admits.
"No?"
"Too wired. My brain won't shut off."
"What's it doing?"
"Overthinking. It's a specialty of mine."
"What are you overthinking about?"
She doesn't answer right away. When she does, her voice is quieter. "You, mostly."
The honesty catches me off guard. Madison doesn't seem like the type to play games, but this is direct even for her.
"What about me?"
"I'm trying to figure you out." She turns on her side, facing me, and I make the mistake of looking at her. The firelight catches her face, her eyes, the curve of her mouth. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Someone smoother, maybe. More polished. Harper made you sound like this... I don't know. Charming heartbreaker type."
"And instead?"
"Instead you're..." She searches for the word. "Real. Annoyingly real."
"Annoyingly?"
"It would be easier if you weren't."
I know what she means. It would be easier if she were less interesting. Less funny. Less likely to say exactly what she's thinking without any of the usual filters.
It would be easier if I didn't want to close the distance between us and find out what she tastes like.
This is a bad idea. She's sleeping in my bed because she has nowhere else to go, and taking advantage of that would make me exactly the kind of guy people think I am.
But she's looking at me like she's thinking the same things I'm thinking. Like she's running the same calculations and coming up short on reasons to stop.
"Jake." My name sounds different when she says it. Softer. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing good."
"Define good."
"Smart. Sensible. The kind of thing I should be thinking about."
"And what should you be thinking about?"
"Sleep. The storm. How to get your truck out of the snow."
"But instead?"
