And she was afraid. So very afraid she had changed things between them irrevocably.
Chapter 20
Rain fell in a pitter-patter throughout the night. Nick knew because he woke at several points in the guest bed, convinced what had happened between him and Sassy had been something he’d dreamed up. It would hardly be the first time.
Each time he stirred, however, he found his face buried in the dark cascade of her hair, his hand curved over her hip, her feet piled atop his. Nothing changed throughout the night beyond Riot joining them. He fit companionably in the space behind Nick’s knees. The sound of his rumbling snores joined the chorus of raindrops on the sill outside.
It was difficult to sleep, even knowing he had somehow manifested the dream he’d harbored of him and Sassy together since he was too young to understand what that really meant. How many nights had he wished for this, the simple pleasure of sleeping beside her? The privilege of knowing what her skin felt like against his?
Twenty years was a long time to wait for the stars to align. How could he regret a single one when they’d led him here?
He sank back into sleep for the fourth time, afraid he’d wake again and believe even for a second that this was wishful thinking.
He roused again hours later to a mouthful of cat hair. He reached for his face, dislodging Rogue from her perch. She growled irritably before veering to the edge of the bed.
Sun stained the blinds a vivid gold. The spaces on either side of him where Sassy and Riot had been were vacant. He listened for them and heard nothing beyond the guest bedroom.
Leaning back on his hands, he eyed Rogue. “You like me well enough now to use my face as a pillow?” he asked.
Rogue merely glared at him, at once characteristically bored and malevolent.
Nick tossed his legs over the side of the bed, petting Rogue along her curved spine as he gauged the distance between his jeans and his shirt. He cuffed a hand around his wrapped wrist, rubbing. Last night’s activities hadn’t gone easy on the healing tissue.
His gaze seized on the mirror. There, he saw his sleep-tousled hair, running riot in messy curls. He traced the small series of scratches along the flexing of his shoulder. Not from Rogue. Love marks from her owner.
The smile that hooked the corners of Nick’s mouth looked a little silly, maybe, but it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He tossed the sheet from around his waist and rose, gathering his things from the floor. After a quick wash in the hall bathroom, he used the unopened toothbrush he found under the sink to brush his teeth, then donned his jeans.
The house remained quiet. The television was off. She hadn’t yet brewed a pot of coffee. The living room, dining room and kitchen seemed untouched from the night before.
For a moment, he eyed the closed door to her bedroom, hoping she hadn’t risen to continue tearing the carpet up.
Then he heard the far-off sound of Riot’s bark and followed it to the back door.
Through the glass, he found her standing on the porch at the rail, her back facing him. She wore a longRhythm Nationtour T-shirt. Her hair fell long across her back, unbraided and unbrushed. Her bare feet were crossed at the ankles. The rain had washed away the muddy footprints on the porch boards, similar to the way Bly and Richie had scrubbed them off the carpet the evening before. Beyond the rail, he caught sight of Riot trotting from fence line to fence line, chasing squirrels up trees.
Nick opened the door and walked outside. She didn’t hear him move in behind her and jumped slightly when he placed a hand on the rail on either side of her hips. “It’s me,” he murmured, wanting to meld into her rose scent. He lowered his lips to the curve of her neck and shoulder, gathering the fragrance in until his blood hummed. “You’re up early.”
“Riot had to make boom-boom,” she replied, not turning around. She held herself upright as his arms banded over her belly.
He chuckled, watching the mutt balance on his back legs, paws waving in the air as if he thought he could levitate into the boughs of the tree. “Potty break’s over, I take it.”
Her hand fit over the wrap on his wrist, and they stood together in the dappled light from the treetops.
After some time, she said, “Nick?”
“Hmm?” he asked, opening his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them, or pressed his cheek to her temple. He was lost and gone over her. What’s more, he didn’t care. She’d always had his heart. She just hadn’t known it until last night.
Her touch traced the muscle in his forearm before falling away. “We should talk.”
He stiffened, thinking about the promises he’d made hours ago. “I’ll have the carpet in your bedroom out before noon. I can haul it off in my truck.”
“No,” she said. “Not about that…about last night. What happened between you and me.”
A blip of uncertainty crossed the spectrum of pure bliss he’d found throughout the night. Half jokingly, he asked, “Should I be worried?”
She didn’t turn or move or, he thought, breathe. The uncertainty sank further into his mind, causing a flutter of panic to arise.
“I think,” she said then stopped and started again. “I think we may have made a mistake.”
