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“Jaxon…” she sighed and rolled over to face him. “You said it and now I’m worried.”
“Worried? Teags, that is such a stupid thing to worry about. No offense. If he’d been in the back of your car, you’d have seen him by now. You drive a sedan. There’s nowhere for him to hide.”
“None taken, but think for a second. Would you put it past him?”
“Fuck it all,” he swore and threw back the blankets, rolling to his feet and cursing the entire way. “He’d be in the boot. That’s where he’d hide.”
He grabbed something by the front door that Teagan belatedly realized was a cricket bat and stomped barefoot outside in the cold. She ran to the door to watch him and realized that he’d been sleeping in his boxer shorts. Teags trousers, which were bunched up on the floor at the foot of the… ‘bed’.
He used her key to open the boot, and she heard a loud thwack, which jolted her heart into overdrive, but then he just sighed and closed the boot, shouldering the bat and returning to the house.
“He’s not in there,” he informed her. “But that bag of potting soil you have back there has been dealt with, rest assured.”
She would have laughed, but she was relieved it wasn’t something more.
As he settled back down in the blanket nest, she spoke again. “You’ve got no trousers on.”
He got settled on his back, parallel to her. “No, I do not. I was going to sleep. You have a modesty blanket wrapped around you, and this is what I normally sleep in.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. I just thought I’d mention it.”
“Teagan, go to sleep.”
“It’s nearly dawn. How are you going to get any work done?”
“I’ll sleep until I need to wake up, and then I’ll wake up. That’s the good thing about working for yourself.”
“I would suppose so.”
“God, woman. Do you ever-”
“Good night, Jaxon.”
He sighed, and she had to stifle a giggle. “Good night, Teagan.”
Chapter Four
When Jaxon awoke the next morning, he was warm. Not uncomfortably so, but that cozy sort of warmth that only came from shared body heat. That was his first thought.
His second thought was that he couldn’t remember exactly who he’d brought home with him the night before. He knew it was someone, though.
Groggily, he started running through the events of the previous night: beers at Brad’s with Dave and Brad and then Teagan called. Oh fucking hell. He came to the startling realization that the person currently pressing her backside against him was none other than Teagan Madden. She was clutching her pillow to her front and her long hair was draped across his face.
He’d mentioned the dividing line, hadn’t he? One or both of them were well over it.
He couldn’t rightly see which one of them had broken his very carefully laid out rules, but he wasn’t about to cop to it himself. And since it washerhair currently impeding his vision, he wanted to say at leastsomeof the blame rested on Teagan’s shoulders.
He also couldn’t feel his left arm. Another point against her. He never caused his own arms to lose feeling when he slept alone.
He blew a breath, hoping to remove most or all of Teagan’s auburn strands from his face. They barely fluttered, settling back down like a net. He shifted slightly, not enough to jostle her, but enough to slide out from behind the auburn curtain impeding his vision.
Finally able to crack his eyes open, he spied the cause of his arm’s current predicament. Teagan’s head was pillowed on his bicep, effectively cutting off circulation to the lower part of the extremity.
Sighing, he let his head rest back on his pillow and Teagan shifted, tossing her hair like a whip against his face once more.
Next time, she was braiding her hair.
Next time?He thought, bewildered by his own brain. There wouldn’t bloody well be a next time. This wasn’t… it wasn’t athing.
