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“Well, I couldn’t sleep—hazard of having an overnight schedule—went downstairs and found they were putting out breakfast. I snatched the best stuff.”
She’d been awake long enough for all of that? And based on her movements, it seemed she’d been doing yoga, too.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Sixish.”
I hadn’t slept in until six since…possibly never. I sat up and turned on the light.
“Whoa, cowboy.” Layana crossed her arms over her chest.
She was wearing a tank top and loose pants—apparently a completely different type of outfit she’d deemed necessary to bring along.
“What?” I asked, having no idea what I’d done to offend her this time.
“You’re obscenely naked.”
If she truly believed that, she didn’t seem to mind too much, with the way her eyes slowly devoured me.
I looked down. “I’m wearing an undershirt and boxers.”
“But no pants. I thought you always wore pressed slacks.”
My head began to throb. “To sleep?”
“Or the bee suit.”
She’d already made her hatred of my running apparel clear. What reason did she have to bother me about it again? As usual, she had no interest in being civil, even though we were supposed to have a truce.
I climbed out of bed and put on the pants I’d left on the nightstand. “Better?”
She gave me a half shrug, tilting up a single shoulder. “I didn’t say it was bad seeing you in your skivvies.”
She was impossible. The sooner we were back to our usual routine, our time together limited to small, manageable doses, the better.
For a subject change, I asked, “Any news on the snow?”
“Loads of news,” she said. “All about how impossible it’ll be to clear.”
“Impossible? No,” I said. I couldn’t accept that. “I can fix this.”
She snorted. “You can’t fix every problem personally.”
“I can make sure everything that should be done is done.”
“Micromanage people who don’t work for you? I’m sure that’ll go over well.”
“I’ll place calls,” I said. “Make sure we’re able to sleep in our own beds tonight.”
“We? Don’t pretend this is for me.”
I just looked at her, not understanding. How could she not want to return to her own home? She wasn’t actually enjoying being trapped here with me, was she? The tubing hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. But it certainly wasn’t enjoyable enough to make the rest of this situation endurable.
“I might not be game for a whole sharing-a-room-with-you thing, but this bed is way better than my stink sofa,” she said.
“Did you say stink sofa?”
“Yes. It’s where I sleep. Now if you don’t want my muffin, and you’re going to just stand there staring at me like that, you might as well go about your business and make your calls.”
