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He’s not saying anything I haven’t already thought of a thousand times today.
Knox reaches down beside him and drapes the comforter over his body like he’s preparing for bed.
“I can’t let you do that.” I push off the sofa, looking for my shoes and bag.
“Seriously, it’s comfortable.”
“Well, then, I’ll sleep out here. You take your bed.” He grins. Full on grins. I point at his room. “You go.”
He shakes his head and pushes up off the sofa, letting the comforter pool on the floor.
“The only solution I see is for us to share the bed.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. And it’s not from his perspective. My palms are clammy and my heart rate increases, all from talking about it.
“I can get a hotel room which is what I should’ve done to begin with.”
“Not gonna happen. Come on.” He extends his hand. “I promise to be a gentleman.”
“It’s not that!” Obviously, he can control himself around me. He hasn’t so much as touched me again since earlier today on the roof deck when I foolishly hoped for a kiss. “I’m not going to force you to share your bed with me. I’ll be fine out here.”
“Sage?”
“Yes?”
“It’s not a big deal. We can put pillows down the middle of the bed if you’re worried your boyfriend will object.”
“Boyfriend?” I half-laugh the word.
“Jimmy?”
“He’s my best friend. But not my boyfriend.”
“Huh.” He scratches his jaw. “Did Sam like him?”
“Yeah, of course. Sam and Jimmy have always gotten along.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s a loaded sound if I’ve heard one.”
“Don’t you find it interesting? Sam liked Jimmy, but he directed you to come to me. Not the man who you’re close to and lives in your town.”
“Jimmy is the guy you go to when you’re furnishing your place. Especially if you want to stay away from the big box stores and go with something of high quality but contemporary design. He’s the guy you call when you can’t decide which top goes best with a skirt. Unless you want to wear Birkenstocks with said skirt. But otherwise, he’s your guy. When it comes to guns, he’s the guy who will help you make a protest sign or know when there’s an upcoming demonstration.”
“Good to know.” A slow smile spreads, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. “Think you can keep from throwing yourself at me, or do we need to place pillows down the middle?”
“You did not just say that.” I bite my bottom lip, grinning because he’s grinning, and this discussion is borderline mortifying. “I promise not to throw myself at you.”
“Think you can trust me?”
“Yes.” He’s mocking me. “But this is crazy. You have one bedroom. I should not be crashing here.”
“Sage. For the last time, there’s nowhere else I’ll let you stay. The options are for me to take the couch, or for us to share the king size bed in there. It’s plenty big, and I promise to behave.”
“Okay.”
“Okay…what?”
“Okay. I’m going to owe you big time. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you,” I add, muttering more to myself than to him. With what I’m sure are ruby red cheeks, I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and head into the bathroom.
