Page 65 of Running to You

Pushed her away.

Sucked in a breath. “What the…?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” She scrambled off him, off the couch, and stood in front of the low flames in the hearth, the only light in the room.

The sight of her in silhouette, combined with the memory already replaying, didn’t help cool the fire inside him.

“I didn’t mean… I just wanted… I didn’t think you’d wake up. I thought I’d just… A little kiss because I missed you and I couldn’t sleep. That was all. And then I was going to leave you alone.”

He was still trying to wake up, still processing.

“But then you kissed me back.” She covered her face with her hands. “I thought you knew…”

Everything in him wanted to cross the room and make her feel better.

And then his wiser self shut that moron up.

“I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re right! You shouldn’t have!” He tried to throw his blanket off, but it was tangled in his legs. He finally got it free and tossed it. “Imagine if I did that to you. Accosted you in the middle of the night, in your sleep! You’d have me arrested!”

“I wouldn’t.” Her words were low behind her fingers.

“Well, you could!” He was angry. No. Furious. The nerve of her. He should feel violated. He should feel…

He had no idea how he should feel.

He knew how he did feel, though. Like he wanted to curse himself for waking up. Like he wanted to cross the space between them and wrap her in his arms and kiss her senseless. And then take her upstairs, and…

And yeah.

No.

He didn’t do that anymore. Definitely not with Eliza.

How did he feel? He had an answer for that. And it was going to require a long walk in the frigid mountain air to overcome. Or maybe he should just head straight for the cold shower.

“Go to bed, Eliza.” He tried to temper the rage still humming in his tone. With no memory of the previous five years, their breakup was fresh and painful for her.

He understood that. He was trying to be kind, trying to be patient.

But right now, he needed her to leave before he lost his thin hold on self-control. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And not before.

God help him, he wouldn’t survive round two.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Eliza woke up to sunlight streaming in through the window, her eyes scratchy from lack of sleep—and probably dehydration, considering how many tears she’d shed the night before.

Not that she hadn’t deserved Sam’s wrath. That was her reward for breaking the rules.

He’d been sound asleep when she’d gone downstairs for a bottle of water, so she’d crept closer, just to see his beautiful face without the guarded look she didn’t want to get used to. He lay on his back, one arm dangling off the edge of the narrow couch, the other tucked beneath the blanket that covered him to his waist. His face was relaxed, peaceful. A tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth. His strong jaw, roughened with a day’s growth, didn’t hold the frustration she usually saw there. He looked softer, kinder.

This was her Sam, the Sam she’d fallen in love with, who was so different from the angry, standoffish man who’d been by her side for days. He wore red-and-black checkered pajamas with a reindeer embroidered on the front. She could imagine his brothers and parents in those same pajamas on Christmas morning, since obviously, Sam hadn’t bought them for himself. No, they had Peggy Wright written all over them. Eliza loved that Sam and his brothers would dress in matching pj's to make their mom happy.

That was the kind of family they were.