“You could have done brunch?”
“I didn’t exactly know I’d be up all night when we made the plans,” he says as he tucks his shirt in.
I prop my chin in my hand, watching him move around the small cabin.
Last night, he looked all loose and relaxed.
This morning, he’s back to stiff and composed.
Mr. Garrison.
The thought makes something in my chest tighten.
He grabs his wallet from the dresser and slides it into his back pocket before checking his phone again.
Then he turns back toward the bed.
I’m still sprawled across it in nothing but a thin sheet.
His gaze lingers for a second, and his expression softens.
Then he steps closer.
“You should go back to sleep,” he says quietly.
He reaches down and pulls the quilt up over my shoulder, tucking it snugly around me.
I smile lazily up at him. “Yes, sir.”
He chuckles.
Then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll see you at work Monday,” he murmurs.
I wrinkle my nose. “I actually have Monday off this week.”
His brows lift slightly. “Do you?”
“Yep. I put in a lot of overtime with the two conventions last week.”
He nods. “Then Tuesday.”
“Tuesday,” I confirm.
For a few minutes, neither of us moves.
The cabin is quiet, except for the faint rustle of trees outside and the distant sound of one of Grandpa’s roosters crowing.
Last night feels like a dream already.
He straightens. “I’ve got to go. Do you need anything before I leave?”
“I think I’m good.”
He nods and heads for the door.
Cool morning air drifts inside for a second before he slips out and pulls the door closed. The latch clicking behind him.
