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“You had a mother.” He sighed. “So, anyway, that’s how I found this house. My mother knew the previous owners, but they defaulted on the property. Bad investments, I guess. I picked it up for a steal.”
I turned on the flames, watching as the gas stove began to heat the pan. “And your father?”
“My father’s name is Joe. He owned—don’t laugh, I know we’re in Idaho—a potato export company. It’s long since sold, and part of a longer story of how my parents met, but these days he’s retired. He bird watches. Makes cocktails. Does whatever my mother wants.”
I slipped chicken breasts into the pan and tried to ignore the heat flooding my cheeks. He just didn’t volunteer things about himself normally, so I tried not to be too surprised at how much he chose to reveal. We had that in common, keeping our private stuff private, so I asked, “Are you telling me these things because you’re on pain killers?”
“Pretty sure they wore off. I’m telling you because…because I didn’t realize I never told you things about myself before. And I feel sort of stupid about that.” He shook his head before smiling wryly. “Sometimes I’m just a fucking idiot.”
Aren’t we all?“No, you’re never that. I’m not great at asking. Feels like…I don’t have the right to know things people don’t tell me.”
“We really are quite a pair.”
6
Iwoke up out of breath as if I’d been running for hours. My heart raced, and I was out of the bed as fast as I could manage to untangle myself from the sheet. My hair still hung in wet, dark red strands from the shower I took before bed, so I knew I hadn’t been out long. I stumbled around Michael’s guest room for a confused minute before I remembered where I was.
Not in Russia. Not in the hospital with Michael, or on an airplane. I’m in Idaho. At Michael’s house.
The door was flung open, revealing a shirtless Michael in long, gray pajama pants. White streaked across his shoulder—bandages—but otherwise, his tanned chest loomed above me.So much skin. “Bridget?” he said.
I held out my hand in front of me like it could ward him off. “I’m fine.”
“I heard you scream.” My outstretched hand seemed very uninteresting to him because he walked through it to catch me in his arms. “What’s the matter?”
I forced myself to swallow, but it filled my nostrils with the sleepy warm scent of him, all male and musky. “Bad dream. That’s all. Sorry to have disturbed you.”
“You didn’t. I was still up in the living room, checking the windows. I’m a little overprotective when it comes to security.” He drew me closer into a hug against his uninjured side. He smelled like soap, so warm and fresh. I loved how it felt in his arms—not that I got many opportunities to hug Michael in my life. Most of the time, he went out of his way not to touch me at all.
But sometimes I got a good whiff when he walked by.
Or if he sat close to me, which he had been doing a lot the last few years.
I put my head on his shoulder, enjoying the way his skin felt against my face. “You’re injured. You don’t need a crazy redhead to make all of this worse.”
“Actually, I think that’s exactly what I need. What were you dreaming about, Bridge?”
I took a deep breath. “Truthfully, I have no idea. I woke myself up scared and unsure of where I was. Sorry. I’m okay now.”
He squeezed me tighter. “Come with me?”
Where were we going? I let him lead me from the room, back through the living room, and then down the hallway that led to his bedroom. His office door hung open, and I could see screens flickering with motion from the darkened room. I spotted a small gym through another doorway we passed by on the way to his bedroom. “Get in,” he said simply, gesturing toward his bed.
“To yourbed?” He couldn’t possibly think we should sleep together, not with only one working arm? “I don’t think I’m really up for it, truthfully.”
Besides, I hated sex, not that I intended to admit that to Michael at the moment. Or ever.
Never would work for me.
He ran a hand through his dark hair as he stared at me with those lovely, steady eyes of his. “I’m not talking about sex. I wish I was, and I admit I’m intrigued by you admitting there might be a possibility sometime, but no. No, just to sleep tonight. Let’s go to bed together. You’re clearly not okay, and truthfully, insomnia is trying to weasel its way into my night. Let’s watch some television, and if we fall asleep, we can share the night. It’ll help to have company, at least.”
Okay. I could buy that. Hope used to swear she slept better with Max in the bed than without him, and it was one of the things she couldn’t let go of when they were separated. I never slept with anyone besides my sisters.
“I snore. I mean…we all do, all three of us. They used to deny it, but why bother? Anyway, you might want to change your mind.” Doctors didn’t find anything wrong with me when I tried to do a sleep study to resolve the snoring, so it wasn’t like it was something I could change about myself.
He motioned to the left side of the bed. “It isn’t so much that you snore as you have a very distinctive way of breathing when you sleep. It’s actually rhythmic and not bothersome in the least.”
When had Michael heard me sleep? “How have you heard that?”
