WAKING UP, NOT ALONE
The feeling of warmth against my entire body made me pull in a deep, slow breath. I hadn’t felt peace like this in a long time. If ever. I knew what it was in an instant.
Emma.
She’d drifted off to sleep last night while watching TV, and her head had eventually fallen against my shoulder. I should have woken her up and told her to head up to her place. Instead, I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around her. She snuggled even closer, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I’d longed for the feel of someone against me for months.
This wasn’t simply someone though.
Her.I’d wanted to feel Emma next to me. Against my body, where I could keep her warm and safe.
I slowly opened my eyes when I realized we were both lying on the sofa, Emma tucked in front of me.
We’d slept together all night.
Crap. Crap. Crap. How in the world am I going to get out of this?
Emma started to stretch—then instantly froze. I closed my eyes and did the cowardly thing. Pretended I was sleeping.
The feel of her body slowly moving against me nearly had me coming undone.
What in the hell was happening to me? Why did this woman make me feel things I hadn’t felt in years? Hell, she made feel things I’d never even felt with my ownwife.
She wiggled a bit more and whispered, “Aiden?”
When I didn’t move, that prompted her to hurry off the sofa and exit the room. It wasn’t until I heard her climbing the steps that I breathed normally again. Once the sound of the door going out to the balcony had shut, I sat up, dragged my hands down my face and groaned.
My phone was on the coffee table, and I reached for it, pulling up my messages.
Me:Are you busy? I need to talk to someone.
Dalton:Working in the garage. Tammy took the girls in for breakfast at The Egg and I. Come on over.
Me:Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up.
Dalton:Everything okay?
I blew out a frustrated breath and replied.
Me:No. Nothing is okay.
Dalton:Take a deep breath and I’ll see you in a bit.
An hour later, I was walking into Dalton’s garage. He was under the ’55 Chevy he was restoring.
“How’s it going?” I asked, pulling up a chair.
“This car is a money pit; that’s how it’s going.” He slid out and looked up at me, his smile fading when he saw me. “Dude, you look like hell.”
I rolled my eyes and let out a gruff laugh.
“You need a beer?” he asked, getting up and heading to the small refrigerator he kept out in the garage.
Gaping at him in disbelief, I replied, “It’s not even ten in the morning.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said with a wink.
“Nah, I’ll pass, but I’ll take a water if you have one in there.”
