James opened his eyes and was met with the popcorn ceiling of the Seven Roads Motel staring back at him. The blackout curtains must have shifted during his cleaning the night before. A strip of sunlight ran from the window and into a bright line across the ceiling fan that had wobbled too much to be used.
He knew why he was waking up to this and not his room at the house.
He remembered what had happened.
And yet the surprise of what was making him so warm still got him.
James peered down at his chest and saw the reason why he had woken up warm.
Rose was on her side but also onhisside. She had one arm thrown over his chest while the corresponding leg was intertwined with his. Her head was resting on top of the hollow of his shoulder, a position made easierto achieve thanks to his own accommodation. James realized his arm was around her, holding her securely against his side.
Had going to sleep in the same bed last night been an issue in his mind? No, simply because he had only been worried about the blank look tugging Rose’s expression down.
He had wanted to make her feel safe, was all. Secure, despite the madness that had been surrounding them.
Maybe he should have worried more, offered to sleep on the floor or one of the chairs. Given her space.
But James hadn’t wanted to be apart from her.
He’d wanted to be close, just within reach if she needed him.
Though he hadn’t thought about it quite like this.
James didn’t know what to rightly do as he stared down at Rose’s sleeping face. She had already become oddly endearing to him over the last week or so—someone he wanted to help protect and get justice for—but there had also been another feeling growing alongside his protectiveness.
Appreciation.
James couldn’t help but mentally applaud so many things about the wildcard. Her smarts, her tenacity, her drive for helping others. But there was another thing he had been overlooking too.
Rose Little wasn’t just cute, she was beautiful.
Asleep, awake, mad or angry. Smiling or annoyed. Sitting in a hospital bed, standing calm next to a bomb, or lying fast asleep against him.
Rose was a sight and a half and James couldn’t helpbut feel like he had slighted himself by not becoming her friend earlier.
Friend.
Was that what she was to him? Simply a friend?
James was about to try and pin down exactly what he might feel for the deputy when, among the list of things she was, he realized asleep wasn’t one of them anymore.
Rose stretched her arm out over him like a cat might do after waking from a nap. Her leg followed suit before she started to nuzzle her face against his shoulder.
James was almost certain she hadn’t yet realized what she was holding wasn’t a pillow or blankets and decided to wait her out.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Rose’s body tensed comically fast.
James couldn’t help it, he laughed.
“I think I might call you Little Furnace from now on,” he rumbled out. “You generate a surprising amount of heat.”
Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe he should have been more considerate of the situation even though he wasn’t sure what that situation was. Had Rose gotten close to him during the night on purpose or was she just the kind of person who cuddled up to whoever and whatever she was next to?
And if she had done it on purpose, had it been because she needed any sense of comfort, or had he been the specific one she needed comfort from?
James could have spiraled down a rabbit hole of questions—not even touching the subseries of the ones surrounding his own feelings on the matter—but Rose cut him off with a surprising twist of events.
