Because two weeks ago this man was just some quiet biker sitting in the corner of my bar.
Now he’s asleep in my bed with half my animals piled on top of him like he’s been part of this chaos forever.
Life is weird.
Moose suddenly snorts and kicks one of his back legs.
The entire mattress shifts.
Cole’s arm tightens around my waist again.
And then, from outside the bedroom window, Sheriff opens his beak and unleashes the loudest, most offended crow known to mankind.
I squeeze my eyes shut immediately.
“No.”
Sheriff screams again, louder this time, like the sun personally insulted him.
Cole jerks awake. Not slowly, either. One second he’s completely still behind me, and the next his entire body goes rigid like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His arm tightens around me instinctively, his shoulders shifting like he’s ready to roll out of bed and deal with whatever threat just screamed outside the house.
Cricket scrambles across his chest in panic. Moose lifts his head with a confused grunt. Bandit launches across the bed like a gray missile. And Sheriff crows again.
Cole freezes completely. “What,” he says slowly, his voice rough with sleep, “the hell was that?”
I bury my face deeper into the pillow. “That’s Sheriff.”
There’s a short pause. Then another crow echoes through the window.
Cole slowly lifts his head and looks toward the sound. “That’s a chicken.”
“Rooster,” I mumble into the pillow.
“It sounded like someone was dying.”
“That’s just how he wakes up.”
Cole drops his head back onto the pillow behind me and stares up at the ceiling like he’s reconsidering several life choices. The room settles again for a moment. Then something jumps onto the bed.
Outlaw walks calmly across the mattress, steps directly on Cole’s ribs, and continues his journey without even acknowledging the human underneath him.
Cole watches the cat place one deliberate paw after another across his chest. Then the cat sits. Right on top of him.
I bite back a grin.
Cole looks down at the cat sitting squarely on his chest like he’s trying to process how his morning turned into this. “…that one’s new.”
“That’s Outlaw.”
Outlaw blinks slowly at him like he’s been living there his entire life. Sheriff screams again outside. Moose flops back down with a heavy sigh. Cole’s arm is still wrapped around my waist.
I turn my head slightly so I can look back at him. Our eyes meet. For a moment neither of us says anything. Then I smile. “Morning.”
Cole slowly looks around the room again, his eyes moving from the dogs sprawled across the bed to the cats who have apparently decided he’s a perfectly acceptable piece of furniture, then toward the window where Sheriff is still losing his mindoutside like the sunrise personally offended him. His gaze drifts back down to me, something halfway between disbelief and amusement settling on his face as he exhales softly and asks, “…you wake up like this every day?”
I shrug a little against the pillow, trying not to laugh at the way Outlaw is still sitting squarely on his chest like he pays rent there. “Pretty much. Sometimes the goat screams too, but you got lucky today.”
Cole lets out a quiet breath through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh I’ve heard from him this early in the morning. His hand shifts slightly on my stomach, fingers flexing like he’s just now realizing he’s still holding onto me. For a second he doesn’t move it though, like he’s deciding whether he actually wants to let go.
