Chapter 17 Ginger #2
Pushing up on my knees, I carefully turn and lower myself to the floor in the dark. Unfortunately, my depth perception is shit in the dark, and I miss the tiny step, bashing my knee into the countertop, which creates a ridiculous ruckus when I knock a metal pot to the floor.
Barely illuminated from the side by a half-open curtain next to the bed, Hutch rolls over and sits up.
“California? You okay?” he asks, reaching over to click on the cabin light, bathing the area in dim light.
I’m suddenly aware that I’m standing in front of Hutch in nothing but a loose T-shirt and my panties, and fuzzy pink socks, that are currently wet, pulled up almost to my knees.
I tuck my arms over my chest and nod to the roof. “There’s a leak.”
Hutch’s brows come together, and he throws back the covers, exposing him in nothing but boxer briefs.
It is absolutely not the time to be gawking at the beautiful man in front of me, but when he stands up and I have to back up a step so that my front doesn’t brush his, it’s a fight of epic proportions not to ogle him openly.
Hutch turns and effortlessly hoists himself up onto the top bunk. His back muscles bunch and shift as he does, and then he’s on his knees, ridiculously sculpted ass and thighs on display from behind as he bends over to fold himself small enough to get to the leak.
“Shit,” he mutters before straightening and moving back to the edge. He drops down in front of me, pulling the blankets with him.
“See if you can spread these out over the seats to dry, will you?” he says, then hands me the blankets.
I double them over, carefully keeping the dry parts together and the wet parts hanging over the seats close to the floor, so they don’t get wet, too.
I turn back to him. “What about the pad?”
“It’s not ideal, but I’ll have to leave it until the rain stops. I hate to close the roof when it’s wet, but if I don’t, everything else will be wet by morning, including us.”
I shiver but give him a nod.
“Get into bed before you freeze,” he says, voice deep from sleep, tipping his chin to his bed.
“It’s okay, I can—”
“Don’t argue with me,” he says, unlatching the roof and lowering it while still being careful to roll the canvas so that it doesn’t drip all over the floor.
On a good day, this pull-out bed looks like it barely fits Hutch.
I’m not sure how both he and I will manage to fit, but it’s not like we have much choice.
I strip off my damp socks and pull back his covers, slipping inside and scooting as far over as I can before laying back.
I’m immediately met with his earthy scent of cedar and woodsmoke.
Hutch grabs a towel from one of the cabinets and runs it over the roof before tossing it on the floor. It’s clear by watching him that he takes great care of this vehicle, and it’s evident in the fact that it’s still in such good shape even though it’s damn near as old as I am.
Hutch clicks off the light and climbs in next to me without hesitation. An involuntary shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the temperature in the van, and everything to do with the solid wall of muscle crowded into my space. His space. Whatever.
“Not Ideal, and it’ll be a tight fit, but we’ll make it work until I can get the roof patched up tomorrow,” Hutch says and lays back.
Our bodies are pressed together from shoulder to hip, and the heat radiating off him feels amazing as another gust of wind howls outside.
I try to imagine an imaginary line and stay on my side of it. But it’s no use. Being this close to him, his scent surrounding me, the hard planes of his body right up against mine, does nothing to keep my body from reacting to his.
I quietly take a deep breath, laying on my back, staring up into the darkness before letting it out slowly.
What is happening to me? Yesterday I would have jumped from the moving van before sharing a bed with this man, and now here I am hoping that he isn’t able to fix the canvas and that we’ll be forced to sleep together for the rest of the trip.
A flash of lightning lights up the cab on my side, due to the open curtains, and another crack of thunder makes me jump.
I feel Hutch’s rumbled chuckle vibrate the bed as much as I hear it. “Afraid of thunder?”
“No,” I say, shifting, trying to get comfortable. “Just startled me.”
Hutch shifts and lets out a sigh. “Listen, I know you probably had no intention of being the little spoon tonight, but there is no way I’m going to be able to sleep on my back all night.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say, turning my head on the pillow to look at him in the moonlight filtering in as he shifts to face me, “but who says you get to be the big spoon?”
He chuckles and it lights me up. “My van, my choice of utensil size.”
I let out a light laugh and relax into the pillows as he turns onto his side.
My mind drifts to that first night at Wren’s, then again at her wedding at Hayes Ranch.
Would it really be such a bad thing to give in for one night?
Shut off all the noise and bickering and pretend he isn’t who he is and I’m not who I am?
We’ve made a lot of progress the last couple of days.
We can be two people sleeping in the same bed, with no expectations or worries about what happens tomorrow?
Hutch shifts, and unfortunately—or fortunately—if you ask my traitorous vagina, the action puts his large frame right at my back and his hand resting on my hip. I stiffen at his touch.
And suddenly, sleeping together platonically seems anything but easy. Okay, and I can still feel his mouth on me. Why hasn’t he tried anything else? Maybe he realizes it’s probably not a good idea.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low near my ear, and suddenly I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Another chuckle shakes the bed when I don’t answer. I’m too busy trying to keep myself from thinking about him pressed against me. “Relax, California. We’re sleeping. Unless you have something else in mind?”
The amusement in his tone snaps me out of it and I shove my elbow backward into his gut with a smile. His answering ‘oof’ is satisfaction enough, and I let my eyes slide closed, forcing my muscles to relax.
I wish I could say it makes me uncomfortable when he wraps a big palm around my waist and pulls me back against him, but it doesn’t.