Page 28 of Finally Moore

“Just…” She speaks so softly I can hardly hear her. Standing, I walk over, my hand pausing on her makeshift doorway.Should I go in?Maybe she passed out? Before I can make up my mind, she says, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me—”

“But I do. You have no idea how much this means to me. Not just the fake stuff, but the things you say and how you stand up for me when I feel like I can’t stand up for myself. That might be fake too—”

“Scarlett,” I cut her off before she can say more. As I open the curtain, she sits up, holding the blanket to her chest. While I have no right to invade her private space like this, I feel it’s important she sees how serious I am. “I promise everything I’ve said to you is the truth. It’s not for show. The only lies I’ve told are the ones needed to keep our story straight. The rest, well, that’s just me.”

She wipes away a stray tear and smiles.

“Now, get some rest,” I tell her. “But if you need anything, just let me know—”

“Scott,” she says as I’m about to walk away. “Would you…? I mean, why don’t you come to bed? Here, with me?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”

“Not like that… It’s just like I said… you’ve been so great during this whole thing and the thought of you sleeping out there kills me.” As if on cue, the muscle in my lower back pulls tight and I have to lean to the side to loosen it. Scarlett seems to notice the slight movement, her gaze focused on where my sweatpants hang low on my hips when she adds, “I’ve slept out there many times, and I’m a full foot shorter than you are. I can’t imagine how awful it must be on your back. So, please, can you just sleep here, at least for tonight? Look.” She pulls the blanket aside with a grin. “I even put a pillow wall between us.”

I laugh. “Are you sure? You’ve had a lot to drink and—”

“I promise this isn’t some drunken decision. I was planning on asking you earlier,” she says and I glance back at the couch, where Bruce has made himself at home on the middle cushion again. “How about this? Z, X, Y… I mean Y, X. Okay, even sober I always fuck that up. Let’s face it. The only people who can recite the alphabet backwards are alcoholics who practice so they can pass a sobriety test.” She taps her chin. “Oh! Do you want me to jump on one foot and pat my head while rubbing circles on my belly?”

I laugh at the image. “That would be amusing.” I pause to think on it for a second. “But no… I appreciate the offer and all. It just doesn’t—”

“Please,” she begs, her eyes wide and sparkling. “I’m not going to be able to get any rest thinking about you suffering out there.”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agree, climbing into bed while making sure to keep as close to the edge as possible without falling off.

Scarlett smiles. “Good night, Scott,” she says, rolling onto her side, so that her back is to me.

“Good night, Scar,” I whisper before doing the same.

Chapter twelve

Scarlett

Mycellsoftlybuzzingon the nightstand pulls me from the most amazing dream, where I was covered in whip cream and Scott Moore was just about to have me for dessert.

“Shh,” I whisper as I press the button on the side to silence it. Hopefully I can fall back asleep and pick up where we left off. It buzzes again. “I’m too hungover for this,” I huff.

More than likely it’s Hannah begging for details about last night. I’m not ready to hear her analysis about the situation. A sliver of sunlight has managed to invade my space through a crack between the blackout curtains. Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to roll over but something heavy has me pinned in place.

“Brucey,” I groan. “We’re going on a diet at the start of the new year.” My hand freezes as it meets a smooth, muscular arm and not the soft furry body I was expecting.

Whatever hopes I had of going back to sleep are obliterated as my eyes fling open to find our pillow barrier dismantled and Scott sound asleep, with one arm draped over my stomach and a leg hooked over my thigh. My fingers twitch with the sudden urge to reach out and brush back his messy hair.

How can one man look so incredibly sexy sleeping?

The corners of his mouth are turned up into the smallest of smiles, leaving me to wonder what it is he’s dreaming about.

Is it wrong that I hope it’s me? Or that I’m jealous at the thought that it probably isn’t?

That fact alone should have me shoving Scott’s arm aside and jumping out of bed, but it doesn’t and I don’t. Instead, I savor the moment. Because it wasn’t until just now that I realized how much I miss waking up in someone’s arms. So, eyes open and brain wide awake, I enjoy the fantasy that I’m his and he’s mine. Imagining that the slight smirk spread across his handsome face is because he’s thinking about me,us, while clinging to the idea that this is so comfortable because it’s right rather than convenient.

No longer able to help myself, I comb my fingers through his messy hair to push it aside. A smart woman would stop there, but I never claimed to be smart. Especially when my hands seem to have a mind of their own as they continue to travel down his scruffy, chiseled cheek and proceed to dance across his shoulder. His arms flex under my touch.

Wow… I mean, I knew Scott was fit, but I never realized how large and sculpted he was until now. It’s amazing what someone can hide beneath several layers of clothes and an apron, which leads me to wonder what other surprises he may be hiding under these covers. Based on the firm bulge snuggled against my thigh, it seems thatlargeis a common theme with him.

Oh my god, Scarlett, that’s going too far.I stop myself from sneaking a peek.

---