“Is this the ploy you make to all your dates? ‘Come on over for foosball and Spotted Cow, but—oopsie! Only one bed’?”
“It’s not a ploy,” Jude said, defensive. “Mama needed my guest bedroom furniture to stage a house she’s selling, and I needed to paint that room anyway. Plus, it’s end of season and nobody’s renting now so…” Jude shrugged.
“So, now… one bed.” I shook my head as I looked at the wrinkle-free ivory comforter with two matching pillow shams. “Well, neither one of us will fit on that.” I glanced back out in the hallway. The other bedrooms were tiny, built for farmhouse living in the 1800s. Neither one even had enough room to stretch out on the floor. Only Jude’s bedroom, and the basement, probably.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” I said.
“No, you won’t,” Jude said. “I will.”
We both glanced at the wooden floorboards. Whoever got the floor would not be sleeping at all, and we both knew it.
“I could sleep on the floor in the basement,” Jude offered.
“I honestly think it’s better if we don’t split up. In case…” I didn’t want to say it, but if the Canceled Killer did come for me, it would probably be better if he didn’t find Jude, a sleeping target, elsewhere in the house. Given how erratic he’d been behaving lately, the Canceled Killer might kill Jude first, not caring that he wasn’t canceled. Jude understood this instantly. “I’ve got the floor.”
“No, you don’t. We can share a bed.”
Jude’s cheeks flushed pink. He really was like a Victorian gentleman.
“I won’t make it awkward and sleep naked, okay? I’ll leave my clothes on.” Jude’s face bloomed cherry red. He was so easy to embarrass. I loved it. “You look scared. Are you scared?”
“What if you throat-punch me in your sleep?” Jude asked.
“Fair question,” I admitted. “But I’ve never throat-punched in my sleep.”
“Scout’s honor?”
“I was never a Girl Scout,” I said.
“Oh, I know.”
A couple of hours later, I lay in bed next to Jude, a single shammed pillow between us, and one of my legs hanging off the bed. I was wrong about the bed being a queen; it was a full at best, and with Jude’s new muscled physique, I got about eight full inches to myself.
“Why do you own such a small bed?” I groaned, glaring at the white ceiling fan in his darkened bedroom.
“It’s usually just me in here,” Jude said defensively as he shifted and sent me farther to the edge of the bed.
I wiggled a bit and shifted, hitting the decorative pillow. In annoyance, I pulled the pillow out and threw it toward the end of the bed. It hit the wooden floor with a thunk.
“Aggressive,” Jude said.
“Not nearly as aggressive as I’m going to be with these covers. You’re hogging them.” I gave a hard tug on the white quilt.
“I am not,” Jude said, holding his edge fast.
We played tug-of-war with the blanket for about ten minutes, though Jude’s hand strength was surprisingly strong. It wasprobably all those hours playing shoot-the-alien games with Oscar online. It definitely wasn’t from handling beakers in a lab.
“Are you always this grumpy at bedtime?” Jude asked me.
“No,” I grumbled. The fact was every time I accidentally bumped Jude’s leg or shoulder, I thought about how good the man could kiss. I thought about how I’d love to take Sexy Nerd for a spin and see how long I could ride before he’d buck me, like a mechanical bull. If he’d been anyone but Jude, if Oscar hadn’t warned me off, I probably wouldn’t have clothes on right now. The thought that I actually needed to show restraint chafed in ways I wasn’t used to. I didn’t do restraint well. I wasn’t a patient person.
My whole body was pent-up sexual energy.
“Do you want me to sleep on the floor? I can sleep on the floor,” Jude offered.
“No,” I said, glancing at him.
I didn’t want him to sleep on the floor. I wanted to feel his lips on mine, and to see if his touch was as slow and deliberate as his driving. I wouldn’t mind him going miles under the speed limit then.
