Page 44 of Once Upon a Fall

“Are you sure?” I ask, making sure this isn’t Rosie sleep-talking.

“One hundred percent. Get in this bed.” She lets out an exasperated breath. “I made it weird again. Sorry. Just lie down and let’s actually get some sleep.”

I pull back the covers and slide under the blankets.

“See?” she says. “Much better.”

“Yes,” I say. “Good call.”

It’s already a thousand times better than the couch. Except . . . now Rosie is lying a few inches away from me, and I’m not sure this arrangement is going to make sleep any easier.

“One thing. The mattress is a bit like the one in your room. But we’ll be fine as long as I stick to my side and you stick to yours,” she says.

That just made it worse. Now I’ve got to make sure I don’t roll toward the center of the bed.

“Now, good night for real this time.”

“Good night,” I say, and hope this time I actually sleep.

Rosie

The princess awoke in the prince’s arms and blamed gravity.

I wake the next morning in Dean’s arms.

My cheek is resting against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. His arms are wrapped around me, and mine around him, and our legs are intertwined. We’re so entangled that I don’t know where he begins and I end.

And I’ve never been more comfortable in my life.

Seriously. This is so lovely. His steady breathing, the warmth of his body wrapped around mine. And he smells so good. Like detergent and warm skin, with a faint woodsy scent underneath.

I would like to stay here forever.

Here’s the problem, though . . . Well, there are a lot of problems, actually. We shouldn’t be sleeping like this. Dean and I are . . . well, we’re friends at the very least.

If I were a woman who read into everything the opposite sex did, then I might read into this. And the truth is, I’m exactly that kind of woman. But I’m not going to. Because there’s nothing to read into. The mattress dips in the center. I told him we’d stick to our sides—and we did, right up until gravity took over and rolled us both into the middle. It takes two to tango. Or, in this case, two to tangle.

Wow. That was dumb.

The other problem is I need to get up. I’ve got to run to Keller’s Bakehouse to pick up some pastries for the Hendersons before they leave. Okay, it’s not a need, but I want to do it. It will be a nice added touch to their stay. Am I hoping they will spread the word about the inn? Most definitely.

But oh, gosh. I don’t want to leave this bed. Or this man.

Dean was right last night when he said he doesn’t qualify as a normal guest anymore. He’s . . . much more than that. I’m not sure I want to quantify it. Or label it. It’s just . . . something else.

Not wanting to, I start to untangle myself from him. First my legs, carefully, so as not to wake him. And once I’ve accomplished that feat—and it was a feat because Dean has very muscular legs—I begin pulling myself out of his sleepy grasp.

I remove the arm that’s over me, thinking I can just roll away from the one under me, but just as I’m about to do that, Dean reaches for me and pulls me into him, his mouth by my ear. He mumbles something, making goose bumps erupt over my entire body, before he’s breathing deeply, arms wrapped around me once more.

Oh no. But also: oh yes.

Nope. No. I really do need to get going. I can’t stay here. Even if I really, really want to.

I make another attempt, and this time, I’m able to extricate myself, stealthily replacing myself with a pillow, which Dean is now hugging.

I did not peg him as the cuddling type. Then again—I watch him wrap around my throw pillow like it’s the love of his life—apparently, he’ll cuddle anything soft. Which is good to know. It means last night was just Dean being a sleep-cuddler and had nothing to do with me.

Right. Good. That’s a relief.