He still didn’t know how to do that, but he thought perhaps the best way to start was by getting his affairs in order.
During the meal, Thom and Brea didn’t utter a word to one another. For the time being, he allowed her to maintain her ridiculous avoidance. Late in the evening, Deckard and Evylin returned but immediately went to their room, evidently still suffering the grief of Hewitt’s secondary loss.
Night had long fallen before the rest of them departed. They said their goodnights and began climbing the stairs. Thom was careful to lean over to whisper to Rafferty before they left the noisy tavern, Brea striding well ahead of them. A sly grin crossed the weasel’s face, but he accepted his task wordlessly.
Continuing up the stairs, the couples went to their rooms while Thom and Rafferty followed Brea to their shared space. She unlocked the door, slipped the key into her coat pocket, and moved to claim one of the two beds, since Thom had volunteered to sleep on the floor. Rafferty winked at Thom.
The space was small, so two grown men and a petite woman made it feel even more cramped. Brea stripped off her coat and draped it over the footboard.
“Raff,” Thom said, “spare me a blanket, would you?”
“What? Your precious back can’t handle the hardwood, Thommy-boy?”
The innkeeper had provided Thom with an extra blanket and pillow, but there weren’t any spare mattresses to offer a more comfortable sleep. And while he’d laid out his bedroll, it would be of little comfort against the hard floor.
“Hard-packed dirt is softer than these planks,” Thom complained. “You’ve got the inn’s quilt plus your spare from camp.”
“And you’d like me to freeze?” Rafferty said.
“It’s practically balmy this far south. You’ll be fine.”
Rafferty waggled a finger at him. “I’m cold-natured.”
Brea heaved a sigh at their banter. “Use mine,” she said, gesturing toward her pack at the foot of the bed. Her camping blanket was rolled up with her own bedroll.
Thom took a step forward, but Rafferty held up a hand. “No, no,” he said dramatically. “Allow me, Thommy. After all, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”
With dramatic mockery, Rafferty lifted Brea’s pack, unhooking the bedroll. It dropped unceremoniously onto the footboard, knocking down Brea’s coat.
“Many apologies,” Rafferty said, swiping it off the floor. He settled it back on the bed, then unfurled the blanket. With a lazy toss, he handed it over to Thom. “There. Be gratified.”
Thom smirked. “I am.”
“Good.” Rafferty paced across the room. “Well,” he said, letting the word drag out.
Brea looked up as she untied her boots.
Rafferty laced his fingers and stretched his arms before him. “I’ve got some patrons to fleece, so you two have a nice chat.”
Brea’s brow furrowed, but before she could say a word, Rafferty slipped back out the door. The immediate sharp scrape of the lock engaging from the key he’d stolen out of her pocket followed his departure.
Leaping to her feet, Brea’s expression grew instantly hard. “Rafferty!” she called.
But he was gone.
Nonchalantly, Thom folded the wool blanket. “Guess we’re stuck with each other,” he observed.
Brea turned her flat glare his way.
Thom smiled pleasantly.
Kicking off her boots, Brea turned. Without a word, she began climbing into bed, fully clothed.
“Hey!” Thom lunged forward, catching her arm and jerking her back.
She whirled, slamming the heel of her hand down on his wrist fiercely. Thom yelped, his grip breaking readily. He cursed as the pain coiled up his arm, but he tried again. Using his other hand, he gripped Brea’s sleeve, tugging her toward him.
With another jab, Brea hit a pressure point in his left arm, making it immediately numb.
