Page 65
“Yes.”
He glances toward Shiloh’s door.
“I do.”
Oh. There’s that thing in my chest again. I’m starting to think I should see a doctor. Maybe I have an undiagnosed heart murmur. Or I should stop consuming caffeine.
I nod. “Okay.”
We stand there. In the hallway outside his son’s bedroom. And suddenly I’m very aware that it’s nighttime.
Shiloh is asleep. Dottie is in her cottage. And I’m alone with my husband. My very large husband. My very attractive husband. Who is standing close enough that I can see the little flecks of silver in his dark hair.
He smells good. Unreasonably good. Like expensive soap and something woodsy. His shirt is rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that should probably be illegal.
And his hands— Oh, those hands. I need to stop looking at his hands. Immediately.
My gaze travels up his chest. His throat. His mouth. He has a very nice mouth. I wonder what it would feel like to—
Nope. Absolutely not.
His eyes narrow slightly.
I jerk my gaze back to his.
He’s watching me. Closely. Like he knows exactly where my thoughts just went.
Which is mortifying. I take a step backward. “So, I guess we should go to bed.”
He nods.
“In separate bedrooms.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
Oh my God. Why did I say that?
“I mean, obviously. We already established that. I was just—I’m going to mine.”
He stares at me. “Okay.”
“Not because I thought you were asking.”
“I wasn’t,” he says.
“Right.”
Wonderful. Excellent. Very smooth, Noelle.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with you.”
His eyebrows go even higher.
I close my eyes. “I’m going to stop talking now.”
“Probably wise.”
My eyes pop open. “Rude.”
