Chapter 19
JORDAN
I’m never going to fall asleep.
The room is pitch black around me, and Libby is breathing deeply on the other side of the bed.
It is a big bed, but I am also a big man.
She’s not as far away from me as I need her to be.
I can smell the lemon scent of her shampoo lingering in the air.
I know how easy it would be to reach across the bed and run my fingers along the soft strands of her braid.
How easy it would be to scoop an arm around her and pull her close.
I growl as quietly as possible. We have meetings in the morning with the White Wolves administration, and I have to be firing on all cylinders. Libby needs me to be. Making decisions and understanding things that will affect the team for years to come should not be made on zero sleep.
She lets out a soft, contented sigh in her sleep, and every inch of me tenses.
I force myself to relax. Maybe if I put my headphones in and listen to some soft music or something, I can drown out the sound of the woman sleeping next to me.
Maybe then I could forget that she’s only a couple feet away from me and every nerve in my body is begging me to pull her into my arms so I can get some relief from this constant ache for her.
Yeah. Fat chance.
I’ll try warm milk. It’s always worked for me in the past, and since I’m not doing anything by lying here, thinking about how I want things to be real between me and Libby, I might as well go downstairs and clear my head.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, careful not to rock it.
Baylee’s always telling me that I shift any piece of furniture I’m on with every movement I make because of my weight.
Which I always follow up with, “Is that a fat joke?” And my sister rolls her eyes because she knows I’m only flaunting how not-fat I am.
Libby’s breathing doesn’t change, so I stand carefully, quietly make my way across the room, and then ease open the door. This house seems new, not creaky like my house in Houston, so thankfully the door opens and closes silently.
It’s past midnight, so I’m surprised to see a light glowing from the direction of the kitchen when I make my way downstairs.
Maybe they keep a light on for the little girls or something.
But when I round the corner from the bottom of the stairs and step into the kitchen, I see Will Pemberton sitting at the table, a tablet in hand and a coffee cup sitting next to him.
He looks up, lowering the glasses he was using to read on the tablet. He’s already intimidating with his height and the fact that he could probably still rock somebody on a football field, but the way he folds up his glasses adds to the serious vibe he’s giving off.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks in a gruff tone.
“Not my bed,” I reply, trying to sound as gruff. The tick of Will’s eyebrow says I just sound scratchy. “But it’s a great bed. Just not mine.” I add the last quickly, worrying I’m offending Will.
“And there’s my wife to be worried about,” Will adds dryly.
I force a chuckle. I am worried about her, but I’m more worried about what she’s going to discover about my marriage to Libby than I am about her being protective of her little sister.
“I have a sister too. I know how they can be, and I don’t blame Ellie.
A couple weeks ago she didn’t even know who I was. ”
“Ellie knew who you are a long time ago. She knows who pretty much everyone on the Houston philanthropy scene is.” Will sets down his glasses and picks up the mug that’s next to his hand.
What’s the guy doing drinking coffee at midnight?
No wonder he’s awake. Or he could be one of those people who caffeine puts to sleep.
“Oh?” I say, swallowing. Did I meet Ellie at one of the fundraisers back when I claim to have been dating Libby?
Will sits back in his chair, but the relaxed position only makes him seem more intimidating. Or it could be that I’m more tense right now than I was lying up in that bed next to Libby.
“The Redhaven Foundation was on her radar when we were still in Houston. But then Libby swooped in and took care of everything,” Will says.
Libby and I have practiced this part of the story: explaining why she didn’t donate sooner if we’ve been dating all this time.
But telling that lie to Will rankles. “She wanted to donate right away, but then after we started dating, I thought it might look bad. And she agreed that it would call undue attention to us. Then after a while she got sick of people ‘not pulling out their wallets,’ as she says. And since we were planning on getting married anyway and starting to tell people, she went and wrote a check.” I shrug like, What can you do?
Will’s married to a Bennet sister. I’m sure it’s something he understands.
He nods. “Sounds like Libby.”
Not surprising. She’s the one who came up with our whole backstory.
He puts his hands on the table and stands. “What did you come down here for, Jordan?” he asks, his voice warmer now. “Can I make you some hot cocoa?” He nods at his mug, and that definitely makes more sense than coffee at midnight.
“I was going to grab some warm milk. That usually helps me get to sleep.”
Will nods and moves to the fridge before I can get there to make it myself. “Ellie likes to put a little vanilla and honey in for the girls. How does that sound?” he asks, pulling a gallon of milk from the fridge.
“Delicious,” I reply. I lean back against the counter. After this encounter with Will, though, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep once I get back upstairs, no matter what I drink down here.
He’s quiet as he moves around the kitchen, not making small talk, so I follow his lead even though the silence feels awkward to me.
I can’t help wondering what type of relationship to pursue with my brothers-in-law.
Libby will want to divorce me as soon as things are successful enough with the team that the governing board won’t care if she’s single.
Will and Charlie are both the type of guys I’d like to be friends with, but maybe it’s better if I don’t form an attachment.
Surely the whole family won’t think well of me when Libby and I part.
The idea of parting from Libby at all makes unease swirl through me. I’m sure we can stay friends, right?
After a few minutes, Will hands me a mug and then leans back against the kitchen island to watch me take my first sip.
It’s the perfect temperature, warm enough to sip right off the bat.
Will earned his league’s MVP award a couple times, so it’s not surprising that he’s got his method for even something as simple as this down to perfection.
He’s known for being meticulous, and his attention to detail was a big part of his success.
“Libby obviously means a lot to you,” Will says in a low voice after I’ve taken another sip. I swallow quickly, but still all I’m able to do is nod. “I can tell you care for her, and Ellie will see that too.” He walks to the table, picking up his tablet and mug before coming back my way.
I nod again, not sure what to say. I do care for Libby. More and more every day, and I wish she’d let me show her just how much. We can’t keep going on like this for long before the truth is going to explode out of me.
“Libby’s been through a lot,” Will says. He dumps the remainder of the cocoa from his mug and then turns back to me. “We’re all really protective of her. Just don’t hurt her, and once everyone gets to know you, no one will care anymore that you married her without telling anyone.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, and then I close my eyes at how I sound like I’m kissing up.
I also don’t miss how he said that I married Libby without telling anyone.
I can see who the family blames for that.
It’s fine. I’ll take that for her. “I’m not going to hurt her,” I promise.
I can do that much. Whatever Libby and I are to each other in the future, I’ll make sure I don’t hurt her.
Will pats me on the shoulder as he heads out of the kitchen. “Get the light, will you? When you go back upstairs?”
“Ye—ah,” I reply, barely keeping myself from saying “Yes, sir,” again. Pretty soon I hear Will’s feet on the stairs. I blow out a long breath. It’s going to be a long three days.
I rinse out my cup when I’m done, shut the lights off, and slowly climb the stairs.
I wish I could say the warm milk, with Will’s special touch, did wonders and I’m ready to crash.
But after that conversation with him, I’m wider awake than I was before.
I enter the room as quietly as I left and sink carefully onto the bed.
“Everything okay?” Libby murmurs, surprising me.
“All good. Weird bed. Having a hard time sleeping,” I say, cringing that I woke her up.
“Mmm,” she says.
“Sorry I woke you up.” I situate myself on my edge, trying to relax back into the pillow.
“It’s fine.” She yawns. She pats the wide space next to her. “Scoot over, just in case,” she says around another yawn. Her eyes are closed, and she sounds still half asleep. She has to be, to suggest I sleep that close to her.
“In case of what?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Ellie’s going to find out somehow.”
Um. Like, is she going to break into our room? Spy on us somehow? This doesn’t sound like Ellie, but Libby definitely knows her better. Plus, when have I ever been able to deny Libby any request?
“Okay,” I say. Her breathing has already evened out, though she does let out a little “hmmm” in response. It’s the most adorable thing.
This woman is killing me.
I do as she’s asked and move closer to her.
If she’s worried about Ellie spying on us somehow, shouldn’t I …
snuggle her? This is technically a public display of affection.
I’ve all but justified gently pulling her into my arms when I remind myself that I don’t think she was fully awake, and we always set out a plan for things like that.
There was no sleeping plan, so no snuggling.
Moving as little as possible, I reach for my phone and my earbuds on my nightstand, popping them in and turning on my chill playlist. I’m not going to survive tonight without a distraction.