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I look around the barn. There’s the roaring fireplace, two leather armchairs, but…

“All right, one problem,” I say. “Where’s the couch?”

Her brows crawl together as she glances around the barn. “What? I could’ve sworn there was a couch in the pictures…”

“Guess you’re not as thorough as you think.” I drop down onto the massive bed and sigh. It’s like being swallowed by a cloud and spit out in a marshmallow. “Looks like we’re snuggling.”

That gets me the reaction I want—a silent scream. “I can’t sleep with you,” she says. “You’ll take up half the bed.”

She’s really committing to this argument, so I keep pushing her. I clasp my hands behind my head. “It’s a California king. There’s enough room to have a threesome in here. You’re the only one who’s got a problem with it.”

Her face reminds me of Carnitas, all red and splotchy. She’s a lot prettier than my pig, though. I think she has a brain aneurysm, but when her cheeks return to a normal color, she grabs a stack of pillows. “Fine, but if you’re sleeping here, I’m building a pillow wall.”

“Good call. The sexual tension between us is so thick it needs a wall,” I say, mostly to see her eye twitch again.

She throws another pillow at me. “It’s just regular tension.”

She continues stacking pillows, mumbling something about grumpy cowboys and personal space. Three, four, damn, five. Once it’s six pillows high, she lies back with a huff. I stare at the cedar beams on the ceiling. I should be thinking about how much I hate her, but instead I’m trying my best not to think about how close her body is to mine.

“Now it really feels like we’re married,” I mutter.

I’m tense all over. This is the worst idea I’ve had since Walker and I came up with flamethrower pickleball. She’s so damn close she’s practically suffocating me with her floral shampoo. I slip out of my T-shirt and toss it on the floor, but she stays fully clothed. I don’t know how long we sit in the quiet, but the longer it goes on, the more I don’t mind it. There’s no one asking me if I’m okay, no motel house cleaner knocking on my door, asking if I’m still in bed. I can just sit in the wind-whistling silence and… be.

She lifts her head to glare at me over the pillow wall. “How do people do this?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep next to someone without it being weird?” she asks.

“Don’t know. I guess you have to trust them enough to fall asleep.”

She flops back onto the pillow. “Great. I won’t be sleeping tonight, then.”

I thought I had trust issues, but Chastain is on a different level. It comes with the territory, so I get it. Still, I want her to know I won’t try anything. I might hate her, but I’m not that much of an asshole. “If you need to sleep with your Sig Sauer P365 under your pillow to relax, go for it, but don’t shoot me if I snore.”

“Okay, I’ll choke you.” She fluffs a pillow. “Sweet nightmares, Montoya. I hope I’m the star of them.”

“Right back at you, Chastain.”

12Sabrina

Chastain.”

I barely hear my name, still hovering on the edge of sleep. These sheets are divine. Seriously, I don’t know if I’m in a bed or a cloud. I moan into the pillow and pull the duvet over my head.

“Chastain.”

Something soft hits me in the face.

A pillow, I think?

“What?” I croak.

“Someone’s knocking,” Lawton says, gruff with sleep.

I forgot. The barn. The move-in with my nemesis. The pillow wall.

“Why are you ruining this moment for me?” I mutter into the sheets, not moving.