I swear, I can feel him smiling into my hair. His beard snags some strands, and they move when his face does. It’s the most bizarre sensation. It makes my whole scalp feel sort of ticklish and warm, and I want to keep him talking so I can fall asleep with that feeling.
“Can I ask why you want to stay? And for how long? And any other things that might?—”
“Sh,” he whispers, making me shiver as my scalp tingles. “Close your eyes and go to sleep. I promise I’ll sneak out before anyone can wake up and see. I just want to hold you a while so you’ll understand that I’m not asking you to think this over because I don’t want you. I want you. I just also want what’sbestfor you — but we’ll figure out what that is starting tomorrow.”
His hand strokes my thigh through the blankets with slow, even, hypnotic strokes, and the last thing I remember before waking again in the morning is feeling warm, calm, and loved.
When I lift my throbbing head from the pillow and open my eyes to a glass of water, some aspirin, and a small posy of wildflowers on the bedside table, I collect one more piece of evidence to support the notion that I’ve somehow stumbled across the most wonderful, thoughtful, and caring man on the fucking planet.
I’m keeping him.
17
BATES
Ishould have known she’d be up early.
Early birds get worms, and she’s a productivity consultant.
A hangover wouldn’t keep her from achieving her goals — it looks as if it’s trying, though. Showered and fresh, she looks as gorgeous in jeans and steel-capped boots as she does in a sexy dress and heels, but there are shadows beneath her eyes that are screaming out for coffee.
And I haven’t got the machine running yet.
I’d hoped to.
Pleasing Lana has occupied my every thought, and I slept so much on the planes yesterday that I could barely nap once I got back to my trailer, so I was up early and wanted to make sure she could start her day with coffee if that’s what she wanted. Then I walked into the communal meeting hall and found the machine seized up and clogged with moldy old grounds as if someone had just switched it off at the end of last season and walked away.
Everything’s washed and sanitary now, but the hotplate was humming dangerously when I plugged it in, so I have it in pieces when Lana walks in looking in dire need of it.
“Morning, sunshine. Take a seat, and I’ll have fresh coffee for you in a minute.”
She gives me a strange look and rests a hand on the back of the chair next to me, ready to pull it out. She hesitates. Then, walking around the table, she chooses to sit opposite and sideways to me.
“I want to sit right next to you,” she whispers, watching me from under her long lashes. “But I’d probably make it super-obvious we’ve fucked. And that I want to do it again.”
I lower my screwdriver with a sigh. “So you thought you’d sit across from me? Where I have to look at you and remain calm, when really I’m wishing I had you naked and bent over this table?”
Lana shivers. Her eyes run over me, then she slides her gaze to the small grid of screws laid out on the table that I’m about to put back into the coffee machine.
“Bates, sometimes I feel like you want to provide me with everything I need, and that’s a new-to-me, veryseductivebehavior. You have no idea how foreign it is to have someone… caring about me.”
My screwdriver pauses mid-twist and then I continue more slowly. “It annoys me that you could feel that way when you’re so young. Makes me think you’ve needed looking after for a lot longer than I want to think about. Change the subject, or I’ll have to exchange more words with your father.”
“Morewords?”
I press my lips together, tighten the last screw, and set the coffee machine right way up before taking it back to the counter where it belongs and plugging it in. I strain my ears and hear only beautiful silence.
“I like to fix things,” I say quietly as I fill the machine’s water tank and then scoop fresh coffee into the filter. “He mentioned he didn’t like the way you two argue so much, and I may have suggested that he pull his head out of his ass and stop holdingyouresponsible for that.”
“You stood up for me? To my dad? Yourboss?”
I shrug. “If I see a problem, I fix it. And it’s going to be a big problem for me if he keeps talking down to you, or about you. I’d rather it didn’t come to blows.”
“Wh—? I don’t understand.”
“And that annoys me,” I remind her as I watch the first drops of coffee fall into the waiting pot. “You should feel loved and supported andprotectedfrom bullshit that makes you feel less than perfect — and you should feel that before you wake up in the morning. That’s your dad’s job. You shouldn’t have to hunt for that love under fucking rocks. Do you take cream in your coffee? Or milk? Sugar?”
“Milk. No sugar. I can get it.”
