AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Heath was alone when he woke up. Because he was always alone. Because he deserved to be alone. He’d made his bed, now he was lying in it.
Except—
The morning fog cleared from his brain. He was in his room, in his bed, and he most definitely hadn’t been alone the night before.
Lena had been with him, and it had been good. A damn sight better than good. Maybe it had been so long he’d forgotten how fantastic sex could be— but no. If he was honest with himself, he’d never had better. And he felt better than he had in a long time. That was the biggest surprise. He’d fallen asleep with Lena’s head resting in the hollow between his shoulder and his heart, her dark hair brushing against his arm. He’d slept deep and hard, her scent, ginger and flowers, spicy and sweet, lingering in his dreams.
It was still on her pillow—his pillow.
But she wasn’t there.
The realisation that he was alone hit him harder this time. Where was she? Had she left?
He shouldn’t care. He should be glad if she was gone. It would save him the trouble of sending her away. Because he was going to have to send her packing at some point. She couldn’t keep living at his house. He ignored the part of his brain trying to convince him it was good if she was gone and shot upright. A loud breath of relief huffed out of him when he saw her pink suitcase was still on the floor beside the bed, a jumble of clothes and lacy things spilling out of it. She hadn’t left. She wasn’t packing up to go. Not yet, anyway, the vile voice in his head hissed.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand.Bloody hell!It was later than he’d thought—way later. He’d slept in—which never happened anymore. He leapt up, yanked on the clothes he’d thrown off the night before, and padded out to the living room.
Lena was in the kitchen, wearing a spaghetti-strapped top and very short shorts that had candy canes all over them, and humming “Santa Baby.” She used a fork to mix something in a bowl while Copper sprawled just behind her, waiting to be tripped on.
They looked good in his kitchen. Like they belonged there. As if they’d always been there.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. These kinds of thoughts were not helpful. Neither was the instinct he had to sidle up behind Lena and put his arms around her. There was a spot on her neck, where her pulse throbbed the hardest, that he wanted to kiss.
Which was not a good idea. Not if he wanted her to leave. But that was a problem for later.
He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”
As soon as the dog heard him, he jumped to his feet and came wiggling and wagging over to say good morning. Lena turned too.
Her hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head, but a few tendrils framed her face, drawing attention to the smile that widened when she saw him.
She was happy.
Even a moron could tell that much, but he was still stunned by it.
“Morning, Sleeperton.”
“Sleeperton?”
She laughed. “It’s just a nickname my family uses for someone who’s sleepy. You were passed out when Copper insisted it was time for a walk. We’ve already been down the road to the rock pool and back.”
He pointed at her outfit, which was more pajamas than clothes. “Dressed like that?”
She looked down at herself and then back up at him before shrugging. “Yeah. And? We didn’t see a single soul. You’re the last house on the road, remember?”
“There’s the farm…”
“I thought you said it was abandoned?”
“For now.”
"Okay, well I wear what I want. Always.” She raised both eyebrows and cocked her head at him, as if daring him to say anything else.
He didn’t.
He knew when he was being schooled. He was not allowed to comment on her choice of clothes—noted. He had no business feeling possessive over her either—also noted. It wasn’t like they had any kind of agreement about what they were to each other. He had no right to think of her as his—and he really didn’t like how easily he’d slipped into that kind of thinking. No one was his responsibility, his duty, not anymore. That was the whole point of the way he’d set up his life, however much he liked having Lena in his arms, in his bed, on his couch, and in his house.
“So, do you like Dutch babies?”
