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Each room we passed was essentially empty, with the exception of a few broken office chairs or a dresser that had seen better days. He pushed open the door at the end of the hall. A sign hung crookedly from one corner that read President.
Inside was a tablelike desk that he set the candle on. The rolled-up thing turned out to be a giant wool poncho like I’d seen in old westerns as a kid. He laid it out across the bare mattress as I watched.
“It’s not much, but better than the floor.”
Nervousness hit me and anxiety spiked as he headed toward the door. “Where are you going?”
Pausing with one hand on the doorframe, he glanced over his shoulder. The deep blue of his eyes glittered in the candlelight. “I’ll sleep out on the bar.”
“What?” I cried out in shock. “You can’t sleep on thebar!”
“I’ve slept on worse,” he replied with a huffed chuckle.
“I mean… you uh, you could sleep here,” I stammered, motioning to the bed. Truthfully, not only didn’t I want the man to have to sleep on a freaking bar, I was afraid to be alone.
“I’m not having you sleep on the damn floor,” he barked out with a scowl.
“No, I meant, you could sleep here, with me—it’s a big bed, I mean.” What seemed like a good idea at first, seemed questionably sane by the time I had gotten the words stuttered out. The thought of being that close to him had sweat breaking out over my upper lip.
I can do this. Besides, he might have wanted to take me home before he knew who I was, but it was unlikely now. Especially knowing how much trouble I obviously brought with me. Not that I didn’t wish… well, it didn’t matter.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he hedged.
