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“Nah. I’ll sleep in the chair,” I say hastily, not trusting myself to remove the barrier in my sleep.
“Please.” She looks at me with sad doe eyes. “I’d feel better knowing you’re sleeping comfortably next to me than in a hard chair. The pillows aren’t because I don’t trust you, Gauge. It’s to avoid spooning. I—I can’t handle that position.”
I glance at the crude wall of pillows, raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure.” She sounds like she means it.
“Okay.” I go to the other side of the bed and crawl under the covers, turning to face her. The wall of pillows makes it hard to see all of her, but I see enough to know she’s watching me too.
“Go to sleep, Opal. I’ll watch over you.”
She yawns. Her eyes droop, but she doesn’t succumb entirely to her exhaustion. “Is Gauge your actual name?”
“No. It’s my nickname from when I was a SEAL. I’m good at reading people, like I have a meter pointing to good or bad. Hence, the name Gauge. But it also has a double meaning since I like to use a shotgun—I got a little backwoods country in me.” I pinch my thumb and pointer finger together to show her.
Opal smiles. “I like it. What’s your real name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I was born Clint Roberts. My ma named me after my pawpaw since he was the only decent man in her life. He’s the one who taught me how to hunt, how to use a gun, how to be a man. If it weren’t for him, I never would’ve had a male role model in my life. I loved that grumpy old bastard, and he loved me like a son. He was damn proud of me for joining the Navy, bragging to anybody who’d listen. I lost him three years ago to a stroke. Shit still hurts when I think of him. Never knew my pa—he took off as soon as my ma told him she was pregnant. She blamed me for losing him. It’s bullshit since I was never given a choice.”
Opal’s blue eyes are misty. “I know the feeling. My mom blamed me for her problems, too. But just like you, I had no choice in it. If I had, I certainly wouldn’t have picked my mom to raise me.”
This is good. She’s opening up. Pressing for more information on her mom’s boyfriend will not happen until we establish more trust. But maybe I can ask questions that aren’t directly tied to him.
“Is Opal your real name?”
She bites her bottom lip as her eyes search my face. Judging by how she’s assessing me, she’s deciding whether she can trust me with this intimate knowledge.
“No, but it’s the name I prefer. A lady I was serving in a diner said my hair reminded her of an Opal. It stuck.”
My eyes roam over her semidry hair. How I long to run my hands through it. “It’s perfect,” I whisper. “What’s your real name?”
“Olina.” She says it like it causes her physical pain to do so.
Olina.I commit the name to memory, cherishing how she shared something intensely private. She’s only given me her first name, but she could have easily shared nothing at all.
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
Opal hesitantly reaches out to me, touching my hand. Before she can retreat, I take hold of her hand in mine, gently squeezing it. We stare at each other for several minutes before Opal’s eyelids drift close. I bring her hand to my lips, placing a tender kiss on her knuckles.
“Goodnight, Gorgeous.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
GAUGE
My phone beeps, waking me. Without opening my eyes, I reach for my cell on the nightstand, hitting the snooze button—morning came way too fast. I’m sinking further into my pillow when I realize how warm I am.
I crack open my eyelids, scanning down the length of my body. Opal’s head lies on my chest, her long rainbow hair fanned out around her. She has an arm thrown haphazardly across my torso and one leg wrapped over the top of mine. Her hourglass frame is snug against my body. The wall of pillows is nowhere in sight.
Shit.
Was this my doing or hers? Will she panic when she comes to? Do I slip out of her warm embrace, pretend she wasn’t cuddling me?
Are you insane, Gauge? Don’t you dare move. Relish this shit for as long as you can.
With a sigh, I stare at the ceiling, willing my cock to behave. This is more than my body can handle without going full-on indecent. My hands itch to run over her body, feel her soft skin, and mold to her curves. The urge to roll her over and kiss her, grows by the second, along with my unseemly appendage.
Opal stirs, her body pressing harder against me.
