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“They’re almost done for the night. Tomorrow we’ll come back and help. You need to sleep and so do I.” She nods, thanking all the guys for what they’ve done.
We drive the short, few blocks to her home in silence. Her eyes are drooping. She’s wiped. Understandably so, with the chaotic day and even crazier night. I walk with her to the door, taking the key and letting us in.
“Stay here,” I tell her as I go through each room of the tiny cottage. This place is as neat as a pin. It’s filled with candles and warm, rich, inviting colors. The sofa is the kind you can sink into and let the day’s stresses disappear. “It’s all clear.”
This is where I should say goodbye and let her go to bed, but I notice how she’s tensed up. There’s no way she’s going to be able to relax.
“I’m pretty tired. Do you mind if I crash on your couch?” I ask.
She takes a step forward. “I know what you’re doing,” she says with a sad expression.
“Let me do it.”
“You won’t get any sleep on that tiny couch. Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No fucking way that’s gonna happen.”
“What? Why?” she asks, lifting her shoulders to her ears.
“In the first place, this is your house, and in the second, a man doesn’t take a woman’s bed. That’s just not right.”
“We can share the bed,” she says, then quickly adds, “It’s a big bed. We can sleep, uh, you can sleep, um… we can—”
I could have let her go on because she’s absolutely adorable when she’s flustered, but I give her an out. “Sleep is good. We can both use the rest. Why don’t you go first? Get changed and ready for bed. Holler when you’re ready, and I’ll come in.”
Her cheeks turn a bright pink, and she bites her lower lip. “Okay.” She brushes by me.
I stop her and hold her for a moment. “There’s no pressure between us, Rosie. I want there to be an us, I make no pretense about it, but it’ll happen when you’re ready.” I drop a chaste kiss on the top of her head. “You’re safe with me.”
“I’ve always felt safe with you. Always,” she says, then heads to her bedroom.
I take my time locking up the house and looking around her place. The kitchen is a soft country blue and white, with a retro feel. It suits Rosie. I remember how much she loved working in a kitchen. She liked to cook alongside her mother.
There are pictures on the far wall, mainly of her parents, some of Rosie with her friends, and one of Rosie and Clarissa. They were much younger in this photo, both girls smiling as the camera snaps the photo, Rosie looking over at her big sister adoringly. There was a time when Rosie looked up to her sister. By the time I arrived on the scene, that was far from the case.
Hearing her call my name, I walk down the hall. I tap on the door to let her know I’m coming in. She’s sitting up on one side of the bed with the covers tucked around her waist.
“I took out a spare toothbrush for you,” she says, pointing to the small bathroom off to the left.
I make quick work of washing up and come back. When I take off my shirt, Rosie diverts her gaze. Then I take off my boots and jeans and slip in beside her. “Turn off the light, babe.” She does as I ask, and I listen while she settles between the sheets. I lie on my back and sling an arm over my eyes to try to drown out the fact that the most exquisite creature is beside me and it’s taking all the control I have to hold back what I really want to do.
Her breathing steadies. She’s asleep. As I’m about to doze, she turns in her sleep, and I find her tucked into my side with her arm around my waist as she buries her face in chest. Christ have mercy. It’s bad enough to take in the scent of her perfume, but to have her body pressed up to mine is sheer torture.
I count backward from a thousand and finally fall asleep, while tightening my hold on Rosie to keep her close.
* * *
Rose
The next morning…
Thunder is in my bed, pinning me down with his arm. If it weren’t for nature calling, I’d stay in this position all day. I carefully lift his arm, slip from the bed, and go to the bathroom. Despite the terrible event of last night, I managed to sleep well.
I saw the message on the wall in the shop. I knew immediately that this wasn’t a random act. I was targeted. All because my sister was a crackhead and who knows what mess she left behind. I have no idea how many thugs she owes money to or how much. In a country this big, I moved to a small town to live a quiet little life, only to get sucked into the vortex of Clarissa’s disastrous trouble. Even from the grave, she’s causing me grief. Thunder tried to downplay it. He said the culprits may have been trying to scare me. Unfortunately, I know better, and I’m convinced this could be the same bunch of hoods that came to visit after Clarissa died.
The thought of being alone in my house was scaring the heck out of me, so when Thunder offered to stay, I was relieved. I shouldn’t be a coward, but I’m happy he stayed and not only because of the break-in, but also because I like him in my house.
A pang of guilt hit me at the thought of Thunder trying to sleep on a tiny couch, and when I offered to share my bed, I stuttered like a foolish schoolgirl. I dreamed so often of having him in my bed. Thunder is handsome even asleep. His face is serene, but his chiseled features are prominent. He’s got a strong chin and high cheekbones, and his beard only makes him look more badass.
