“Anyway, I got the spare bedroom ready for you,” she said. “I know you must be tired, so I’ll get out of your hair. We can catch up more tomorrow.”
Oh.
Why was this the first time it had occurred to me?
Wes and I would be sharing a bedroom.
CHAPTER 12
Juliette
I wasn’t sure what to do.
Wes and I stared at each other a moment before he stood and walked over behind me. “Why don’t you go up, babe?” he said, rubbing my shoulders. “I’m going to go out front and shoot hoops for a while. I’ll probably be done before you finish your half-hour-long skincare routine.”
My night routine did take forever, but I couldn’t figure out if he actually knew that or had just made it up for his mom’s sake.
Joanna smiled and patted her son’s arm. “If you two ever live together, you’re going to need a basketball hoop out front. Since he was a little boy, Wes has been going outside to shoot hoops whenever he has a problem. Sometimes he would spend hours out there.” She gave his forearm a squeeze and her voice softened. “Sadly, I don’t think Grandma’s problem is solvable, Wes. Don’t stay out there too long.”
He nodded, but I knew Wes had more than one problem to work on tonight. We’d been next to eachother the entire long day, though, and I figured he could use some time alone. So I said goodnight and followed Joanna up to the spare bedroom.
The rhythmic thump of a basketball bouncing out front sounded faintly in the background as I got ready for bed. I washed my face, applied my serums and creams, and brushed my teeth. But instead of finishing barefaced the way I usually did at night, I leaned close to the mirror and swiped on a fresh coat of mascara, then fixed my hair a bit. Ridiculous, I know. I never wore makeup to bed. Still, I told myself it was because I was going to have to see Wes’s mother again in the morning—not because I wanted to look nice for her son. Though of course, I knew better.
Wes came in fifteen minutes later, just as I finished making up a bed on the floor. His shirt was tucked in his back pocket, and his chest glistened with sweat. He lifted his chin, gesturing to the makeshift bed. “I don’t need two pillows.”
I glanced over at the setup. “Oh. The floor is for me, not for you.”
He frowned and shook his head. “No, it’s not.”
“I’m fine on the floor,” I assured him. “Once I even fell asleep during shavasana at yoga because I’m so comfortable there. The instructor had to wake me.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Juliette.”
“But—”
He cut me off with a look. “There’s no point in arguing, because it’s not happening. I’m going to take a quick shower. When I come out, your ass better be in that bed.”
I must have been losing it because the way he said “your ass better be in that bed” sent tingles runningthrough me. I slid under the covers as he disappeared into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the sound of running water filled the silence. I told myself not to picture him behind the frosted glass, his broad shoulders slick and head tipped back beneath the spray. I failed miserably. To make matters worse, he walked back into the room smelling clean, with a towel wrapped low on his hips. I’d never found the scent of soap particularly sexy before, but on him it was intoxicating.
Wes grabbed his bag and returned to the bathroom to get dressed, emerging wearing no shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I really wanted to know if he had underwear on under there. But sadly, he flicked off the light before climbing into his bed on the floor.
“Goodnight,” Wes said.
“Goodnight.”
I rolled to my side and pulled the blanket up to my shoulders. Fifteen minutes went by, and I was still wide awake. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily with Wes so near. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard him shifting. He was definitely not comfortable on the floor. I tried to ignore it by rolling to my other side, but after what felt like an hour of torture, I whispered into the dark. “Wes? Are you awake?”
“Yeah.”
“This is silly. I hear you tossing and turning, and I’m staring at the ceiling feeling guilty about you down there on the floor. We’re both adults. There’s plenty of room in this bed. Why don’t we share it?”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Long seconds of silence ticked by. “It’s just not.”
