Page 84 of Property of Bob

“Ash.”

I pointed at my legs.

She stared at me.

“I walked,” I rasped.

“I know you walked. I meant, why didn’t you wait for me?”

I shrugged.

Her eyes narrowed. I could practically see the argument forming. Then she looked at my throat. The argument died. “Not one more word.”

I nodded.

She walked across the room and shut off the light. The room went dark except for the faint glow coming through the curtains. The mattress dipped when she climbed into bed.

My bed with Ramona.

That was fucking weird.

Twenty years ago, if somebody had told me Clint’s little sister would show up on Skull Island in a dying RV and end up sleeping in my bed the day I got out of the hospital after nearly having my throat cut, I would’ve told them they were out of their fucking mind.

Ramona shifted beside me.

I stared at the ceiling.

Neither of us spoke.

For once, I actually listened when she’d told me to shut the fuck up.

A minute passed. Maybe two.

Then Ramona’s voice came quietly through the dark. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Ashland.”

Chapter Seven

Ramona

I opened my eyes slowly and stared at the wall across from me while my brain tried to catch up with the rest of my body. For a few seconds, I couldn’t remember where I was. The room was dark except for a thin strip of morning light slipping around the curtains, and there was something heavy resting against my leg.

Then I remembered.

Ashland.

Bob.

I closed my eyes again. Oh, God. I was in bed with Ashland.

I hadn’t forgotten that part when I’d fallen asleep. It had actually been pretty damn hard to forget there was a man lying beside me, especially when that man was Ashland Moore. But sometime during the night, we’d apparently stopped caring about keeping our respective sides of the mattress.

I looked down.

One of Ash’s legs was pressed against mine from the knee down, and his arm was stretched across the mattress between us. My hand was resting against his forearm.

That wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t like I was sprawled across his chest with my leg hooked over his hip and drool running down my chin.

But we were definitely touching, and I definitely didn’t hate it.