Page 92 of Double Bucked

31

RANSOM

Claire sleeps like the dead.

That is, if the dead reanimated themselves and had asthma, maybe. That angelic, sweet face snores loud enough to wake the spirits all night.

I’m not sure when I crash out, but I wake up to an empty bed.

The sheets are crumpled beside me. I run my hand over the space. My fingers remember the heat of Claire’s skin underneath them.

The pillow smells like her. Sweet as flowers.

Just the scent of Claire makes my blood rush south.

I gotta get out of this bed now, or I never will.

Claire is sitting up already. She’s got a dress on, and she’s fixing her shoes on her feet.

“Morning,” I tell her.

“Morning.” Short. Clipped.

Even the way she laces up her boots turns me on.

The hell is wrong with me?

“We should talk about last night.”

Her eyes don’t leave her boots. “What’s there to talk about?”

Oh. That’s like a double-barrel shotgun to the chest.

Last night, she was mine.

This morning, she’s got her armor back on.

That’s when I see it. The glint of her engagement ring fixed back on her finger.

My stomach gets all knotted up when I think of Claire waking up early in the morning, getting on her hands and knees to find it in the carpet.

And ain’t that me and Claire in a nutshell? Her, fully dressed, fixing her boots. Me, butt-ass naked, hanging in the wind for her.

“Nothing, apparently.”

I roll out of bed, take my briefs off the floor, and yank them over my hips.

Her eyes flicker over to me. “Go to your trailer and pick up a few clean clothes. Toothbrush. Whatever you need. You can stick them in Daddy’s room.”

“You sure you want me to stay here?”

“Of course.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

She starts, “Last night was?—”

“Amazing.”

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