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Pepper bounded it and leapt onto the bed. She settled into a ball in the center of the bedspread. Hayley smirked at her. “Guess we know what your vote is,” she said to the kitten.
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Chris was actually a little apprehensive when he pulled into the driveway at a little after five. Hayley’s little blue house was shut up tight, no windows open liked she liked to do in the cooler evenings. He picked up on the smells coming from his kitchen before he actually saw her. She was leaning against the island, paperback in hand. A pot on the stove proved to be source of what was already making his stomach growl.
“Gonna take a shower,” he announced. She merely nodded in reply. He couldn’t tell if she was feeling the same way he was. So far, there was nothing different about this evening than most other evenings. He caught himself saying a silent prayer as he headed to the bedroom. He found the cat first, who attacked him when he came into the room. He scooped her up and nuzzled her. With his free hand, he snagged the handle on the third drawer down and tugged. Something like a mixture of relief and joy flooded him as he saw neatly folded stacks of jeans, shorts, and various female underthings. He smirked at the female underthings, but slid the drawer shut.
“Never lived with a woman,” he confided to the deaf cotton ball, who began to purr. “Now I’ve got two of ‘em.”
Dinner was gumbo, hot and spicy, and Chris watched Hayley diligently scrubbing the bowls at the kitchen sink when they were done. There was no pointing out to her that she was three feet away from a dishwashing machine. She’d scrubbed every utensil at least twice and picked up a fork, obviously planning on washing the shine off it.
“Hayley,” he finally said, shattering the silence.
Hayley, who knew damn well that Chris was in the kitchen, fumbled the fork anyway after being startled, which bounced on the floor. She snatched it up and turned the water back on to wash it again. Chris finally decided an intervention was necessary. He stepped over and turned off the hot water. He took the fork from her and put it on the counter.
“Hayley,” he repeated.
Hayley took a deep breath and turned her head slightly toward him but didn’t really look at him. “Sorry,” she declared.
“No need to be sorry,” he replied. He took hold of her chin, turned her head, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Long day today,” he announced. “Gonna hit the rack. I’ll probably be asleep before you come in. The alarm’s already set for 6:30.”
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Hayley watched Chris give Pepper a tickle under the chin and saunter off down the hall. Every muscle in her body went slack and she leaned against the counter. It was all well and good and easy enough to put clothes in drawers and hang shirts on hangers, but she’d put off even really thinking about getting into bed with a six foot two Army Ranger who outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds.
She recalled falling asleep against him on the couch and understood, rationally, that Chris would never hurt her. But she also imagined all sorts of other things that bothered her more. Would she even be able to fall asleep? What if she tossed and turned all night like she usually did? What if she had a nightmare? What if, in her sleep, she forgot Chris was there and started screaming if he accidentally brushed up against her? She could imagine no way to avoid appearing certifiably insane by attempting to share a bed with him.
She folded the dish towel and squared her shoulders. She’d made her proverbial bed, well Chris had made it, ha, and now she would lie in it. Or at least try. He’d already had to deal with her nightmares. He knew she didn’t sleep well. There was really nothing, probably, that could actually surprise the man. She didn’t relish the idea of looking crazy, but neither was there a damn thing she could do about it. So she set off for the bathroom and settled for hoping he was at least asleep by the time she was ready for bed, as he’d said he would be. It would make things far less awkward.
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Chris heard the bedroom door open and remained still, on his side of the bed. Well he wasn’t sure which side of the bed was “his” necessarily, because he could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually spent the night with a woman, but this side, the right side, was closest to the gun in the nightstand drawer and to him that made the most sense. He rolled on his side earlier, back to center of the bed, facing away from the door, so that he could more easily appear asleep. And non threatening.
