“Just open the door,” she mocked. “I can’t get off the bed!”
“Why not?”
“Because of themouse!”
“Well, you can’t stay there all night.”
She was not stepping one foot on that floor. She took in the layout. There was that chair not too far from the bed. She could jump to that, maybe, then step onto the table, and from there she could reach the lock. Maybe.
She moved across the bed to the other side, watching for the mouse. Then she eyed the distance to the chair.
“Lauren?”
“I’m coming!”
She made the leap and caught her balance, just barely, on the rickety chair. She stepped up onto the center of the table, which wobbled precariously. Then she braced her weight on the window frame and stretched for the lock.
The second it twisted, Jonah pushed through. “Where is it?”
With a grateful squeak she fell onto him, wrapping arms and legs around him. “Who cares? Get me outta here!”
Ten minutes later Lauren sat on Jonah’s bed. Because, yes, Jonah had offered to take the floor. He was currently fetching a tarp from the truck.She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep at all the way her pulse still raced. Also, this whole place was probably infested with mice. There was still no guarantee one wouldn’t come crawling over her in the middle of the night.
The door opened and Jonah returned, tarp in hand, and pinned her with a look. “Stop thinking about it.”
“I can’t help it. It almost got me.”
His lips twitched as he spread the tarp on the floor beside the bed. “They don’t eat people. Not live ones, at least.”
She scowled at him. Then she remembered the way he’d held on to her when she clung to him like a monkey. The way he whisked her from that room in two seconds flat. She went soft inside. “Thank you for the rescue. And for the bed. Here’s a pillow.”
He took it and tossed it onto the tarp. “Want me to turn off the lamp?”
Were rodents nocturnal? She wasn’t taking any chances. “Can we leave it on?”
“Sure.” He paused, shifted his weight, seeming to have something else to say.
“What’s wrong? Do you want your bed back? Because if you do, I’m gonna sleep in the truck. I’m wide awake and probably won’t sleep anyway.”
“It’s not that. I just—I have something for you. I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you.”
A birthday gift? Though not a fan of birthdays, she welcomed the distraction. “If it’s a respirator, what took you so long?”
“No such luck.” He reached under the tarp and retrieved a poorly wrapped box, topped with a red bow. “Happy birthday.”
The package was the size and shape of a shoebox. Quelling the soft feelings already stirring inside, she hiked a brow. “You got me shoes?”
He shrugged, cheeks flushing.
This uncertain side of him was kind of adorable. She tore into the paper, shooting him a wry grin. “Please, God, black suede Louboutins.”
“If that’s the kind with the red soles, you’re fresh out of luck.”
“Darn. They’d go so great with my new—” Her hands stilled as the paper she’d ripped away revealed part of the box. The part with the logo.
Heelys. He’d bought her Heelys.
And just like that her thoughts flashed back to her seventh birthday when all she’d requested from her foster parents were a pair of Heelys. She needed new tennis shoes anyway. Her old ones squeezed her toes. Their two sons had Heelys and all the neighborhood kids did too. Once when Brandon had left his lying in the foyer, she’d slipped them on and tried to skate around the driveway. But they were much too big.
