Page 50 of Sharp Lies

“Okay, okay. Maybe I should have thought about it.”

“Maybe you should have,” I agreed. “I mean, what will we tell my mother?”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Something tells me it wouldn’t surprise her in the slightest. Come on. Will it help if I promise not to touch you in any way that she might disapprove of?”

I laughed at that, thinking of how awkward it would be to even talk to my mom about something like that, and followed him obediently into the bedroom.

***

HIS ROOM, AS IT TURNED out, was just as tidy as he was in person. There was a bed and dresser and—surprisingly—a rocking chair, but little else, and he looked like he’d just finished cleaning it up. Nothing was out of place, nothing was crooked. Everything looked like it had been put exactly where he wanted it.

A man who knew where he liked things.

A man who had grown up not knowing where he might end up tomorrow had spent his adult life making sure he knew exactly where everything was.

Including, as it turned out, me.

I stifled another smile at the thought, wondering why it made me feel warm and fuzzy rather than offended, and sat down on the bed when he offered it to me. Moments later, he’d handed me sweats and a T-shirt, and when I looked at them with my head cocked, he nodded to the jeans and blouse I was wearing.

“I don’t know much about what women wear to bed, but I’m thinking those won’t be all that comfortable to sleep in.”

“Oh,” I said, looking down at my outfit. “Right.”

I didn’t argue with him but went to the bathroom and changed quickly, cinching the string of the sweats tightly so that they would stay up and pausing to smell the T-shirt. It smelled like detergent and some sort of cologne. Wood smoke and coffee.

It smelled like Warren, and I wondered quickly if I could steal it from him in the morning and take it home to sleep in.

Then I mentally smacked myself for even thinking such a thing. What sort of girl steals a T-shirt just to sleep in?

A girl with a crush, a voice in my brain said.

I shut the thought down, though, and walked out to find Warren standing at the window staring out into the night, his hands clasped on the window sill and his shoulders tense. I walked up and stood next to him, staring out and looking for whatever he’d seen.

“What’s out there?” I asked, unable to stop myself from making fun of him. Just a little bit.

“Cornfields,” he said. “And some trees. And I’m guessing quite a few grasshoppers. Maybe a squirrel or two.”

I poked him in the ribs, and he snorted, jerking away from me. “What?”

“You were standing here like you were trying to kill someone with the laser beams from your eyes,” I said. “And when I ask what you see, you’re all cornfields and grasshoppers!”

“And that means you poke me in the ribs?” he laughed.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get more than that,” I grumbled.

He turned suddenly serious and grabbed my wrist, spinning me to look at him. “And what more would you have given me?” he asked, his voice suddenly low and gravelly.

My stomach did an entire somersault, and I bit my lip. “Oh, I don’t know. What can be worse than getting poked in the ribs?”

“I can think of a few things. Want to go to bed?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

Though I was no longer thinking about just wanting to go to sleep and forget about everything that had happened tonight. Hell, I wasn’t even thinking about any of the things that had happened, except maybe that moment in the truck before the carnival when I’d thought he was going to kiss me.

All I could seem to think about was the heat of his skin where his fingers were wrapped around my wrist and the molten-hot quality of his eyes right now. The hoarseness of his voice and the way he’d caught his bottom lip in his teeth.

He led me to the bed and motioned for me to sit, then jerked and turned down the bed in a rush, like he hadn’t even thought of it before. “Sorry, I don’t have other people in my bed often,” he joked. “I’ve forgotten the rules.”