7. Jade
JADE
If there’s one vow I commit to never breaking, it’s that I’ll never travel again without my noise-canceling headphones.
Not so long as Natasha and her hubby travel with me.
Dear God, I didn’t know my bestie could reach octaves that high.
I could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that and been okay with that.
“We’ll be done with writing research before the sun sets my ass,” I mumble, heading back for the house.
After last night’s bear encounter, I’m not willing to risk a stroll into town. Besides, at this late hour, what would I even do? I’m not much for bar hopping. And the bakery closed thirty minutes ago.
The only way to avoid what’s happening in the guest house is to get back to work until it’s over.
It’s late.
Late enough that the only light on downstairs is the faint glow from above the kitchen stove. But River left the front door unlocked, so I quietly let myself in.
The man has to be exhausted to the bone after the past couple of days of moving boxes. The last thing I want to do is disturb him by messing around in the large room upstairs despite how close we seem to be to finishing it.
I decide instead to peek into the living room boxes, hoping Grandma Charlotte won’t scold me for sending her texts so late. It’s not as though I expect her to answer them until morning.
I barely start on the first box before I hear a faint noise. I strain my ears, hoping to hear it more clearly. It sounds like a…moan.
Shit.
Does River have a woman upstairs in his bed? The fact that jealousy is the first emotion to hit me square in the chest is not lost on me. I have no ownership over this man I’ve known for half a week—one who is technically my boss at the moment.
And yet, I feel the urge to throat punch the woman who might be pleasuring him.
Except, the second moan sounds less like one of pleasure, and more like one of…pain?
The gentle click-clack of claws is followed by Marty’s appearance. He stands at the foot of the stairs, whining. The poor guy looks defeated, as though he doesn’t know what to do.
“What is it, boy?” I ask, approaching him. I rub my fingers behind his ears, but the distressing whining doesn’t stop. Neither do the sounds from upstairs. Now that I’m closer, I’m fully convinced something is wrong.
I follow Marty up the stairs, to the master bedroom.
The door is cracked, no doubt from Marty slipping out to find me. I gently push the door a little wider, calling out River’s name.
The man thrashes around in the bed as though he’s under attack. Is this…PTSD? If he was a Marine for twenty years, I find it hard to believe he got out unscathed. My heart breaks at the sight of him. There’s anguish in his tone that guts me.
Though I understand there’s risk to waking someone in this state, I can’t do nothing. I have to try to help him. I tiptoe into the bedroom, hoping I can wake him from whatever nightmare plagues him without getting taken out by a stray fist.
“River, are you okay?” I ask, my voice a normal tone now as I walk along the foot of the bed, headed to his side of it.
He doesn’t hear me as he’s attacked by another mental assault.
I look at Marty after he whines again, as though begging me to do something to comfort his suffering human. I’m about to tell the pup that I’m not well-versed in handling situations like these when River suddenly wakes.
He looks right at me.
“Jade?”
“Hey, sorry to barge in—”
“You’re here.” The relief in his voice is surprising and refreshing. The nightmare is over—I hope.
“Hey, I’m here,” I say, stepping closer. I rest my hand on his shoulder. “You were having a night—whoa!” In some ninja move that happens in under a second, I’m swept off my feet and tossed over his body onto the bed.
River yanks my back against his chest, spooning me snugly.
I’m confused but also comfortable. Dammit, the man is all irresistible hard muscle and warmth.
I should fight this. I should tell him this isn’t appropriate and shimmy out of his grasp.
But where will that leave me? Embarrassed yet again?
This time, I can’t exactly run back to the sex cabin without risking my own sanity.
“River, I—” But I’m cut off by the soft snores against my ear. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and if the dead weight of his embrace is any indication, he’s out cold.
I look to Marty, who hops onto the bed, but the dog doesn’t have any answers. He snuggles into the other side of me, sandwiching me between them. As though declaring me part of the pack.
So…this is awkward. But, it’s also nice.
Too nice.
But what if I leave and the nightmares come back?
“I’m not going to get used to this,” I say to a sleepy Marty, fighting a yawn of my own. I make another vow—this one to slip out of the room before River wakes so he never has to know I’m here—and allow my eyes to fall closed.