Jensen hops up from the couch. “Got any juice?”
“Not a clue,” is my cheerful reply. He just laughs and makes his way to the kitchen where I hear him rummaging around for a few minutes.
When he returns, his arms are full of two glasses with ice in them, a bottle of rum, and a bottle of tropical fruit juice I guess I had somewhere. My eyebrows lift. “Planning a party or something?”
“Yep, a party for two.”
“You know rum and juice is not a good combo for me…” I caution.
“The headache will be worth it, I promise.” Jensen turns what I call his puppy-dog eyes on me. Those eyes convinced me to go along with all kinds of stupid things when we were younger, from trying to sneak into a hockey game, to getting me to bake cookies for him way too often. “Nuh uh, no way, buddy. Not even that look is gonna get me to drink rum and juice.”
“Come on, Kell, please? I’ll let you…” His voice trails off, then his entire face twists into a grimace. “Fine, I’ll let you put up a profile for me on a singles site. Happy?”
Well, shit. No getting out of it now, I guess. I sit up and nod confidently. Or, at least, as confidently as I can. “Yes. Very. We’ll make you sound good, I promise.”
“I’m so gonna regret this,” he groans as I grab my laptop off the coffee table and open it up to one of the more popular dating sites.
“Here we go. This one, Left for Love, has a mobile app, so you can install it on your phone and look for women from anywhere.”
“Great,” comes his sarcastic reply.
I quickly set up his account, but keep the screen turned away when I upload a photo, despite his protests. I choose a recent one he sent me, one that I secretly drooled over — just once, I swear — and then it’s time to write his short description.
“Hmm. This is our time to be creative. Let’s see. Oh, I know!Dog Dad seeks human companion for long walks and cuddles on the couch. Must be comfortable with fur on clothing. Cat lovers need not apply.”
“Are you serious right now?” Jensen shouts as I break out in laughter. Oliver comes sauntering in from somewhere and hops up on the couch between us, resting his head on my lap.
“Yep, totally serious. See? Look at how sad he is. Oliver needs a mommy.”
“He fucking does not,” Jensen groans. “He’s got his crazy Auntie Kelly. That’s good enough.”
“Too bad, I just posted it.” I close my laptop with a grin. “Now we can drink.”
My obnoxiously full bladder wakes me up sometime in the middle of the night, and at first, I’m confused by the obvious fact that I’m not in my bedroom. But when I come to consciousness, it’s not the desperate need to pee that has me freezing in panic. It’s the heavy arm draped over my body, and the wall of warmth pressed up behind me. It’s the caress of Jensen’s slow, steady breathing on my neck.
I carefully extricate myself from his arms. I don’t even check to make sure he’s still asleep, I just bolt for the safety of my bedroom.
After taking care of the reason I woke up in the first place, I lay in my bed, trying desperately to fall back asleep. But it’s futile. Because now, I know just how good it feels to be wrapped up in Jensen’s arms.
As dawn slowly crests, and my room fills with early morning light, courtesy of the blinds I didn’t bother to close last night, I wrack my brain trying to figure out how to handle this. Will he remember that we fell asleep together? Did he notice me leave? Do wetalk about it, or do we pretend it never happened?
Because I’m not sure I can do that.
Chapter four
Jensen
There’s an incessant noise, and I can’t determine the source. I also can’t ignore it because my head is pounding with the beat of a thousand drums, all marching totally off tempo, and that goddamn noise is making it worse.
Fuck. This is what I get for drinking way too much rum last night.
A cold nose nudges my hand and my eyes slowly blink open to see Ollie’s head inches away from my own. Before I can even sit up, the noise starts again. It’s my phone going wild with notifications of some sort. Somehow I find my glasses on the coffee table in front of me, and after giving Ollie a quick scratch, I force my hungover body into sitting and look around for my phone. Locating it isn’t as easy as it should be, seeing as it somehow ended up underneath the couch. I dig it out, then stop to press my fingers to my temples. Damn — I need water, Tylenol, and coffee — in that order.
Speaking of the couch, why did I wake up pressed against the back of it, on my side, like I was spooning something? Why wasn’t I in bed like a normal person would be…like Kelly obviously was.
There’s something tickling at the edge of my brain, something I feel like I should remember. But I can’t. Fucking alcohol.
I turn the sound off on my phone without looking at it. There’s no way I want to try and focus on the tiny screen without caffeine in my system. Whatever it is, it can wait. Stumbling into the kitchen, I see Kelly with her back to me, over by the coffee pot.
