Chapter 38
Despite herself, Brit was intrigued. She knew firsthand how much he craved her. “It’s an interesting idea.”
“There will be ground rules. You can’t try to seduce me. If you do, all bets are off.”
“I promise I won’t. Will we cuddle?”
“I might not be that strong. But we can hold hands.”
“Will we wear anything?”
“I’ll put on my sweats. What did you bring?”
“Nothing.”
He groaned. “Should’ve guessed.”
“I have sweats and a sweatshirt. But I hate sleeping in them. Too hot and bulky.”
“Underwear?”
“Too binding. Want to call it off?”
“No, dammit. I won’t wear my sweats, either. It’ll be the ultimate test. Are you in?”
“It’s a nutty idea.”
“But you like those.”
“I do.” She gazed at him. “I can’t believe you got hooked on me because I wanted to spin on those stools. I thought you’d find it annoying.”
“Which means you need to learn more about me.”
“Could be.” She flashed back to the moment when she and Angie had come into the cabin to find the two brothers playing keep-away by the kitchen door.
“Are you in?”
“I’m in. Just so I don’t sabotage you in the first two minutes, I’ll go in first and call you when I’m under the covers.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“I’m outta here.” She left at a brisk walk, careful not to sway her hips. He wouldn’t make it through the night. But if he didn’t, her conscience would be clear.
She made it through her bedtime routine quickly and slipped into bed, the sheets cool and smooth against her body. No doubt he’d put on fresh ones this morning.
Turning toward the wall, she pulled the covers up to her neck. “Okay, Trent! You’re up!” Then she giggled. “Sorry.”
“Sure you are.” His boots clicked on the wooden floor.
She stifled another giggle and controlled the urge to roll over and look at him. The sounds of him undressing electrified her naked body. When he brushed his teeth, she could taste his kisses. Would she be the one to crack?
The click of the bathroom light going off and his footsteps on the wood floor sent her pulse into hyperdrive. The mattress shivered as he climbed in. So did she.
“Lights out.” He switched off the one on his side.
She’d have to stretch to reach hers, baring her arm and shoulder. She should have thought of it earlier. “Don’t look.”
“I’m closing my eyes.”
She snapped off the light, leaving them in darkness. Inches apart. Naked. Her skin flushed hot.
“How’re you doing over there?”
“Fine.” She rolled to her back.
“Me, too. Just dandy.” His breathing didn’t sound like he was fine.
She snickered. “Nobody says that anymore.”
“What?”
“Dandy.”
“Picked it up from Grandpa Elmer.”
“Is he still around?”
“Going strong at ninety-two. Grandma Lily is ninety-one. Still water-skis.”
“I hope Montana inherits those genes.”
“I hope she gets your blue eyes.”
“Brown works for me. Then I can sing her Brown Eyed Girl.”
“You can sing?”
“No, I’m terrible, but she won’t care.”
“I’ll bet you’re not terrible. Sing some of it. That’ll distract me.”
“Oh, it’ll distract you all right.”
“Seriously. Do it.”
“You’ll be sorry, especially since I’m lying on my back, but if you insist.” She launched into the song.
After the first couple of lines he started laughing.
She sang louder, which turned out to be awesome at releasing the tension of lying in bed with a naked and extremely accessible Trent Armstrong.
Eventually he was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath. “Okay, okay! You’re the worst!”
She grinned. “Told you.”
“Thank you. That helped.”
“It was good for me, too.”
“Wanna hold hands?”
“Sure.”
“Slide your hand over, but do it slowly.”
“Right. Don’t want to touch something I shouldn’t.”
“Exactly.” His breath hitched. “I feel the tips of your fingers.”
“I feel yours.” She slipped her hand over his palm.
He closed his fingers around it. “Sleep tight, Brittany.”
“You, too, Trent.” She concentrated on her breathing and the firm clasp of his hand.
Slowly her muscles relaxed. His presence was arousing, but comforting, too. His breathing evened out. So did hers. She drifted in and out.
The chirp of a bird penetrated a dream that involved barstools singing Brown Eyed Girl. Why was a bird chirping in the middle of the night?
Except it wasn’t the middle of the night. Pale light filled the room. Trent’s side of the bed was empty. He’d done it. Or had he?
Was he in the kitchen making coffee? Doubtful. She’d smell it brewing. Outside the birds were waking up, but inside nothing stirred.
She’d left her sweats and sweatshirt on the nightstand so she’d have something to wear when she woke up. Climbing out of bed, she put them on and went in search of Trent.
She found him on the sofa wearing his sweats. He’d draped the afghan over his bare chest and propped his head on one of the sofa’s decorative pillows. He was sound asleep.
Easing down on the armchair, she settled in to wait. With his beard growing in and his long, dark lashes fanned over his flushed cheeks, he was a fascinating combination of rugged masculinity and beauty.
He”d tucked his bare feet under the other decorative pillow. The room was chilly and the green and yellow afghan barely covered his impressive torso. He needed another blanket.
Rising from the chair, she padded back into the bedroom, opened the closet and found one on the top shelf. Sage gazed up at her from her spot on the closet floor next to his boots.
Brit gave the bear a pat on the head before carrying the blanket into the living room. As she gently laid it over her sleeping prince, he woke up.
Lifting his head, he stared at her in confusion. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back. “I failed the test.”
“How long did you last?”
“Maybe a couple of hours. Tried to sleep. Couldn’t do it.” He opened his eyes and gazed up at the beamed ceiling. “Then I focused on you singing Brown Eyed Girl because that was so damn funny.”
“That didn’t help? Because there’s nothing sexy about me singing, especially that song. I murder it.”
“You do.” He scooted up. The blanket and afghan fell away as his chest heaved. “And you don’t care. Which makes me love you all the more.”
She gulped. “Trent, let’s not?—”
“Yeah, let’s not get into that again. I know you don’t want to hear it and my lame attempt to prove it fell apart.” Tossing aside the afghan and blanket, he swung his long legs to the floor and stood.
“But you left the bed instead of waking me up. That’s a partial victory.”
“I suppose.” He met her gaze. “But I’m through trying to prove it to you. Or anyone. The fact is I love everything about you — your bright spirit, your loyalty, your courage, and yes, your body. When I’m holding you I get all that, and it’s the best gift I’ve ever been given. I love you, and if you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do about it.”