All he wanted was to break this curse and figure out how to make his tavern make money again.
He joined her in the kitchen after a little while and they ate dinner in silence. Roan said nothing more to her except, “You’ll sleep in here. I’ll sleep in my office.”
Abigail nodded, and he left the kitchen.
There were no late customers and no extra mess to clean, so he worked on the bookkeeping a little longer before he reached for the blanket he kept in the closet of his office.
He was preparing to bed down on the floor when he realized there would be no blankets in the kitchen, and Abigail would be sleeping on nothing.
His conscience and duty to her as a woman and his employee fought with his selfishness, but in the end, he brought the blanket into the kitchen. Abigail was curled up in the corner, her dress tucked around her feet, and her hands folded under her head as a pillow.
Moonlight streamed in one of the large windows in the kitchen, illuminating her face.
She was beautiful.
And staring at her while she slept probably made him a creep.
Roan sighed and gently placed the blanket over her before returning to his office, lying down on the floor and staring up at the ceiling.
Beastie flopped down next to him, and he leaned into her warmth. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could wake up to find that this had all been nothing more than a dream.
Chapter four
Abigail
Abigailrolledover,herhead bumping against something hard, and she opened her eyes.
Oh.
She was on the kitchen floor in the tavern.
It hadn’t been a dream.
There was only a little light coming in through the windows, so it was still early, but she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again.
She sat up, stretching blearily. It had not been a good night’s sleep. Her whole body ached, and she’d tossed and turned for far too long.
A worn woven blanket with fraying stitching around the edge covered her legs, and Abigail frowned, fingeringthe faded cream fabric. Had Roan come in to bring this to her? She hadn’t heard him at all—he must have come in after she’d finally succumbed to sleep.
Part of her had been afraid that if she fell asleep, she wouldn’t wake again, trapped in the sleeping curse that inflicted the other inhabitants of the tavern. She shuddered at the reminder of carrying their sleeping bodies into the storage room.
She’d dreamed of less safe times, of men who hadn’t been sleeping when they’d brushed against her in ways that were less than appropriate.
Not since she’d come here, though.
She’d never felt safer than when she was here with Roan and Beastie.
Even if it was highly improper for her to be the only one awake here with him…she knew he would never harm her.
However, sleeping on this floor another night might.
Perhaps there were things in the attic that might make their situation more comfortable. She’d heard a rumor there were things up there from when his grandparents owned the tavern—perhaps there would be more blankets.
She took a deep breath and stood to start the kettle of water for tea and oatmeal, folding the blanket and tuckingit out of the way on a shelf. She had a busy day ahead of her, and breakfast would set her up to have a good day.
Roan was right. If they were going to be trapped here, they might as well accomplish the things that they never actually got to do because they were too busy taking care of the tavern patrons.
She reached for a spare handkerchief and used it to tie her hair back. Today she would tackle dusting. It hadn’t been done in far too long, and taking the broom to the heights of the tavern would make a mess of her hair if she didn’t cover it.
