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Cloe instantly felt like a fool. She should have never invited him into her bed. But he’d looked so exhausted after he’d gotten home and she couldn’t stand the thought of him having to sleep on the couch. It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before.
But that was when they were still strangers. Before she’d realized the type of man he was. A man who was willing to pretend to be her childhood sweetheart so she wouldn’t lose face in front of her ex. A man who could laugh at himself when lying in a popped air mattress. A man who blamed himself for his mama and wife leaving him. A man who kissed her like no man had ever kissed her before.
As soon as his lips had touched hers, she’d been lost.
And maybe she’d been lost sooner than that.
Ever since grade school, she’d been aware of Rome. She’d known exactly how his hair curled at the collar of his shirts and the angle he wore his hat. She’d known his favorite brand of jeans, boots, and trucks, and how he ate his muffins.
If she were honest with herself, her preoccupation with Rome had been going on for a long time. Now that she’d gotten to know him that awareness had grown.
She now knew his scent was a mixture of fresh country air, saddle leather, and hardworking man. She knew he was hot natured and rarely needed a coat. He had strong hands that were also gentle. Could dance like nobody’s business. And had skilled lips that could make her forget who she was and what this was—a fake marriage to a man who had told her himself that he didn’t believe in love.
She knew that was where his regret came from. He was worried she would think this meant more than it did.
She needed to prove to him, and to herself, that it didn’t.
She pulled her pajama top closed and forced a smile. “I guess I was wrong. I guess we can’t sleep together.”
He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He sat up and ran a hand through his mussed hair. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch those thick glossy strands. “I’m sorry, Cloe. I take full responsibility for everything that happened. I was the one who trespassed on your side of the bed. The one who kissed you.”
She sat up and buttoned her top. “And I kissed you back. So you aren’t going to take all the blame. And it wasn’t like we had sex. We just had . . .” She struggled to find a word and could only come up with one. “Release.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Release?” A smile spread over his face. “We did have that.” He hesitated. “I just don’t want you thinking that—”
“You’ve fallen madly in love with me?”
He sighed. “I was going to say I don’t want you to think that this was part of my plan.”
“I believe it was my idea to have you sleep in here. So I hope you don’t think that getting you into bed was my plan.”
“I would never think that about you, Cloe Holiday.”
“And I don’t think it about you.”
He hesitated for a long moment before he spoke. “So we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
His gaze traveled down to her breasts before it quickly lifted. “I guess we’d better stick to separate beds.”
“I guess we better. Although, like I said before, I wouldn’t call that puddle of plastic in the other room a bed.”
He chuckled. “I’ll order a new mattress today—a regular mattress. I think I’m through with air mattresses.”
A knock sounded on the door and Casey’s voice came through the wood.
“Hey, Cloe. You up?”
Rome’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head.
She held back her laughter. “I’m up. What did you need, Casey?”
“Have you seen Rome? He wasn’t in his room and his air mattress looks like a deflated balloon.”
Cloe glanced at Rome and again he shook his head. “He’s probably in the shower,” she lied.
“I don’t hear the water running.” There was a long pause and a definite smile was in Casey’s voice when he spoke again. “No worries. I’m sure he’ll show up eventually.” He started whistling as his boot clicks faded.
