“You won’t get to sleep sitting up.” The warmth was missing from her brown eyes tonight. They drifted closed, and she laid her head on the pillow.
She had a point.
He climbed into bed and rested his hands on his chest.
Her breathing evened out in the telltale beat of slumber.
There was no way he could take whatever this thing was between them further. He’d start setting his own boundaries and respecting hers.
Sleep had nearly found him when she shifted to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. Without waking, she curled into him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Now what the hell was he supposed to do? He swallowed hard.
Little sounds and half-coherent words occasionally slipped from her mouth. His chin brushed against her hair, and he inhaled the scent of coconut shampoo. So Lucy. All real.
But not his.
After a while, he closed his eyes, savoring for a moment the woman he wouldn’t allow himself to pursue.
…
William woke early and disentangled himself from Lucy. She didn’t wake when he rose from the bed and left to grab video and talk up the staff. So far their hidden cameras in the cabin showed nothing.
They were close, though. He could feel it. Two more days to snoop around, ask questions, and tie up the story. Two more days. He could keep his distance from Lucy that long. Hell, he’d just give her the space she’d been pursuing herself. When the story was finished, he’d let her continue on her path of avoiding him.
A few hours and a hike to and from the lodge later, he returned with an entire Thermos of dark roast. Lucy was up, the bed made. In snug fitting jeans and a Twin Lakes T-shirt, she dried her wet hair with a towel. Her bag lay open on the bed, and she rummaged through it with her other hand.
His gaze drifted to her ass-cupping jeans.
“Hey. You brought me coffee?” she asked, more than a little shock in her voice.
“Cream and sugar, too.” He set the coffee on the table and snagged two enamel camp-style mugs from the counter.
“Will?” She settled at the table.
“Yes?”
“Thanks.” She raised her mug in a semi-salute before sipping.
She toyed with the handle. Neither of them said anything more. Best to address the awkwardness head on.
He moved the chair next to her and sat. “What happened yesterday at the barn—”
She held a hand up in the universal sign for him to stop, not up for discussion. “Nothing happened.”
He pressed his lips together. He certainly didn’t expect his heart to shrink at the declaration. “You want to play it this way?”
“It’s not a game.” She gripped her cup between her hands.
“Fine. Nothing happened,” he clipped. Except, everything had happened.
“What’s on the agenda today?”
“Didn’t get that far. Figured you’d need caffeine before any communication, so I got on that.”
“I’m up for whatever. What can we do at the lodge to give the staff lots of time to come in and out?” She twirled a piece of hair with her finger.
He couldn’t seem to jerk his gaze from that strand of hair. Like some trick of the mind, he just stared at it. “I’m glad you asked. Today is group therapy for the honeymooners.”
