Damn, looking like that, it’s hard to believe friendship is all we got from weeks of the circuit.
“No, of course not. Let me help you set up your stuff.”
I slip off the bunk and tug at the oversized bedroll he brought. It’s currently wedged between my bunk and the small kitchenette, after I used it as a seat earlier to eat my dinner on.
“Here, Maggie.” He steps into the van, having to duck. He looks ridiculously big in this tiny space. Half bent over, he grabs the bedroll with one arm and pulls it free like it was never stuck, his arm alive with the movement.
My mouth hangs before I can catch it.
He slides the bedroll out of the van and tosses it on the ground like it weighs nothing.
“Um, do you need your bag, too?” I wrap my cardigan around my chest, now very aware I’m braless and it’s cooler outside than I thought.
“Yeah, please.” He’s busy rolling out his bed right in front of my van door.
Okay... But what if I need to get out?
I hand him the bag, and my cardigan falls open, exposing my white T-shirt. That I’m fast realizing was a bad choice.
“Thanks,” he rasps, hand closing over mine as he takes the weight of the bag.
“Sure thing.” I swallow.
Shit. I need to get it together.
“Well, night, Maggie.”
A little breathily, I reply, “Night, Hadley.”
He slides the door closed and through it I can hear him unzip his bag or maybe his bedroll...
Nope. We’re not thinking about Hadley or his bedroll. I spin on my heel and jump onto my bunk. The entire van rocks with the movement.Shit. Shit.
Packing away my laptop and camera, I lay down in my bed, snuggling into the blankets. The last image I see is the smiling, happy, triumphant face of Hadley Jones.
Finally, he’s had a break.
If anyone on this earth deserves one, it’s him.
Here’s to making sure that break sticks.
Sitting up, I fling my laptop open and email the shots of Hadley and Terminator to Levi.
I’m not sleeping on that one.
Not this time.
Patters on Betsy’s roof wake me, along with a pale milky light.
It’s raining . . .
It’sraining.
I sit up, tossing my blankets off. Wincing, I slide the van door open, trying my hardest to be quiet. The misty rain hits my face the second the door breaks from the van.
Oh damn.
It’s wet out here.
I glance down to find Hadley still cocooned up in his bedroll right in front of my van door.
A smile—one I have no idea the meaning behind—grows on my face. I wrap my cardigan around my body and pull on my jeans. Sneaking past the sleeping cowboy, I pad to the smallcanteen that’s already open for the rodeo folk and grab two coffees and a few pastries. Deciding to grab something more substantial for the only man in the world to ride the Terminator, I add a wrapped-up savory something to the pile and carry my load through the rain on a disposable tray, covering it the best I can with my cardigan.
I drop onto Betsy’s side step, not bothering to close the door against the halfhearted rain.
I peel back the top of his bedroll to find scruffy dark hair that meets stubble. Corded shoulders and neck... and bare chest. A groan slips from him as the wet air hits his face.
I suck in a breath, trying to steady my frantic heartbeat, and whisper, “Morning, Terminator Tamer. Hungry?”
