Chapter 15
Of course, Sloan”s comfortable bed wasn”t a surprise. The guy definitely embodied a comfortable life, what with all the flannel.
His desire for comfort wasn”t ever in question. No, his investment in high thread count sheets was the surprise. Honestly, I expected comfy flannel sheets. That seemed more on brand for him.
But nope. He had one-thousand-plus thread counts of the good stuff. I could respect a man who invested in good bedding.
I pressed my face into the pillow and inhaled the scent of Sloan.
Things were quiet up here in the mountains. Too quiet, given the number of bugs and deer hanging around outside.
Still, Sloan”s even breaths and my tossing and turning were the only sounds. Sometimes I”d hear the low buzzing of an insect, but it didn”t get close, so I didn”t worry too much. Only a little.
No street lights. Not even a porch light to break through the inky darkness—Sloan had flicked that off earlier.
My hangover was long gone, but those ZipZings were no joke. There was no way I would sleep after four.
He slept soundly beside me with a look of innocence that was totally unfair, because dear Lord in heaven, the man knew how to use his body to please mine.
Flipping on my back, I stared at the shiplap ceiling.
I should get up.
It might be the middle of the night, but I wouldn”t be getting any sleep. So, yes, I should get up. Of everything I knew, this was the most certain step. Cautiously, not to make the floorboards creek, I rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the shower.
His bathroom was small but functional. A guy clearly lived there, because while tidy, it wasn”t spotless. The little hairs on the edge of the sink would drive a person nuts after a while. And though the room was utilitarian—lacking the little touches of someone who would appreciate it for more than simple everyday use—I wouldn”t change anything about it.
Blowing out a breath, I showered, then I headed downstairs to the kitchen to see if Sloan had some ice cream, or chocolate, or even cookies. I hit pay dirt behind the expired bag of Doritos in the cupboard in an unopened box of Oreos.
The expired Doritos gave me pause—who didn”t finish them before they expired? And the unopened Oreos? Sacrilege.
I peeled the blue cellophane Oreo bag open and grabbed a cookie. I bit. Then I spat.
Stale.
I tossed the mess into the trash, including the cookies and the expired chips. Then I fished everything out of the cupboard—all the canned goods and pantry staples, organizing them by category and then expiration.
The layout Sloan used for the pantry and kitchen didn”t make a bit of sense.
His glasses weren”t anywhere near the sink, so I remedied that. The pots and pans were all the way on the other side of the kitchen from the stove, so I fixed that, too.
I didn”t mean to sing as I worked, it just happened. There in the kitchen, with the massive vaulted ceilings, the acoustics were spot on. My voice bounced off the walls and filled the kitchen. The high ceilings were incredible, turning my simple song into a sound that wrapped around me like an embrace.
As I sang one of the cover songs for the artist headlining my last tour, I got lost in the music. I swayed to the rhythm, letting it carry me away. The music lifted something inside me, untangling knots that even an organized pantry couldn”t fix.
On the lingering echoes of my song, I checked to see if the table might fit against the wall with the window so we could look outside while we ate breakfast instead of into the living room—that would save us from having to stand and drink coffee to look outside.
It took a bit of maneuvering. But, good news, the table fit.
I lifted the binoculars he”d left there by the window. Oh, these had a night vision setting. How bananas was that? Pressing them against my eyelids, it took a moment to adjust to the greenish-black haze of figures.
But then something moved, and my heart rate ticked up as the bushes rustled. I squinted. Whatever creature this was, it wasn”t a bug.
I seriously hoped they didn”t have bugs that big here, anyway.
I scanned the yard, stopping at trash cans near where the rustling had happened, and there was movement. Holy crap, too big to be a deer. Here”s the thing: Even though I was a city girl, I was pretty sure that was a bear.
I screeched a sound that wasn”t quite a scream, but also not nothing either.
And the bear was outside.
I was inside.
But with the binoculars, it felt like we were both inside. This was the only reason I backed up and hit my hip on the edge of the table. This wouldn”t have happened if I”d left it where it”d been.
When I took out my hip on the edge of the table, I swear the bear looked up. If it weren”t so dark, we would”ve made eye contact.
This time, I did scream. I wasn”t proud of it, but it happened.
The bear seemed to freeze in place. I dropped the binoculars to the table—thank goodness it was right there?—
”Sloan!” I yelled. ”Sloan!”
He didn”t come immediately, so I started up the stairs to find him, still calling for him the entire way. He met me at the top of the stairs in nothing but a pair of boxers and socks.
The guy either wore socks after sex, or he put them on to come save me—either way, I wasn”t so sure about that.
”There is a bear. There is a bear.” I pointed in the general direction of the backyard. ”There i-i-i-s a bear. I think it was a black bear, but it”s night, so maybe it”s brown. I”m pretty sure it wasn”t a polar bear since we”re not in the Arctic.”
The blinking thing he did was kinda cute if there hadn’t been a bear ready to come at us through the kitchen window.
”Is it in the house?” He looked behind me, apparently not too concerned about Mr. Bear.
”No.” I shook my head. ”Why would it be in the house?”
”Then he”s where he”s supposed to be,” he said, still groggy. ”The guys probably didn”t tie down the trash can lids. It happens.”
”Are you kidding me right now?” I asked. ”There”s a bear, Sloan. It”s a bear.”
”Let me look.” He scratched at his jaw as he moved past me to the kitchen.
I should”ve explained what had happened in there, since I was still mid-rearranging and at the part where everything looked worse than it was, with the contents of the cabinets spread over the counters and such.
He made it to the kitchen and stared at the mess for a long pause. He glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow. ”Was the bear in the kitchen?”
”This is all me. I just wanted a cookie. And then I found the Oreos. Then this happened.” I gritted my teeth, hoping like hell he wouldn”t be angry. ”This is what tests an accidental marriage, you know? But don”t think too much about it. It”ll be perfect when I”m done.” I pushed my knuckles against my mouth.
Now was a good time to stop talking.
”I have Oreos?” he asked, frowning. ”Where?”
”I tossed ”em.” I pointed to a bag of expired food. There were two big garbage bags full of expired pantry items. ”They”d gone stale.”
He blinked hard at the trash sacks.
”But the, uh, bear. He”s right out there by the… you know.” I handed him his binoculars, nudging him toward the window.
He took a peek. Looked around thoroughly.
”Nothin” is out there,” he said, finally.
”No, he”s there.” I crossed my heart. ”Promise.”
”Okay.” He set down his binoculars and promptly walked into the edge of the table. ”Ow.”
”I know. I did the same thing,” I said. ”You”ll get used to the new placement.”
He paused, rubbing his thigh. I should motor on back to bed and pretend none of this had happened. I didn”t. Instead, I simply watched my husband.
”Whatever it was, it”s gone,” he assured, handing me the binoculars to see for myself.
I took the binoculars and peeked.
He was right, though the trash can with the bushes right behind it and that branch right there looked a whole lot like a… bear.
”I think I saw the trash cans,” I said, deflated, setting the binoculars down and glancing sheepishly at him.
”I don”t know what I”m supposed to do right now to protect you from the trash cans.” He fixed his eyes only on me, not the wreck of a mess I”d left behind.
”Well, don”t leave me here alone. There could be all sorts of animals that show up.” I didn”t have a lot of requests, just that one.
He stepped forward, tracing his fingertip along my arm. ”Nothing”s getting in the house.”
I actually believed him. I was safe here. I pressed my palms to his chest and stepped into his embrace.
”I”m going to kiss you. You good with that?” he asked.
”Uh, yes?” I sort of said, sort of asked. Then leaned back and gestured to my mouth.
He did as he promised, kissing me until I wasn”t thinking at all about the wildlife. Somehow, he had backed me up the stairs, and oh, yes, yes, yes, Maybe I didn”t need midnight organization when I could have… this.
But then he lifted me up. I was in his arms, his mouth was against mine, and finally, I was in the bed, and he was… tucking me in?
What the hell just happened?
I peeled open my eyes as he tucked the bedding around me.
”You need sleep, baby,” he said against my mouth before he climbed into bed next to me. ”It”s been a long day.”
That”s how I found myself once again in his bed, thinking about his sheets. I had to stop thinking about Sloan”s bedding.
Unfortunately, my brain would shut none of that off.
I tossed. I turned.
”You”re not sleeping,” Sloan said from the darkness.
I swallowed against my dry throat. ”No.” I nearly asked, ”Are you?” But that would”ve been silly given that he was obviously awake.
”I can”t sleep either,” he said.
I turned toward the direction of his voice, pulling the sheet and comforter with me. ”Too much in your head?”
He chuckled, a low, deep rumble down in his throat, and he reached for me, pulling me to him.
”There”s a lot to think about.” His words came gravelly and raspy and oddly delicious. Like I could taste them—which was silly because they were words. Even so, my taste buds flooded with caramel, vanilla, and warm spice. Nutmeg or cinnamon or something like that.
I wondered if my words had a flavor for him.
”I promise I”ll get your kitchen fixed tomorrow.” I would”ve crossed my heart, but I couldn”t while pressed against him and all.
”Go to sleep, Maya,” he said, with a low, caramel-laced chuckle.
I liked that—the way I could practically see his lips twitching even with my face buried in his chest.
”G”night, Sloan,” I said.
And even with all the danger outside, I knew I was safe here with him.
That”s when I finally fell asleep.
The sun was just beginning to filter through the curtains when I woke up, disoriented by the warmth in Sloan”s embrace.
I started to shift away, but he pulled me closer, murmuring something in his sleep that sounded like ”stay.”
How could I say no to that? I turned back to face him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before settling back into his arms.