Page 27 of If Only In Our Dreams

Instead of answering his question, because it felt quite loaded, I asked, “Why me?”

Robin frowned, snuggling his blanket closer to his chin as he stared at me. He looked young. Which wasn’t hard—because hewasyoung. Far younger than I was at forty-five. He was probably still in his early thirties. Probably not a day over thirty-three.

Why he’d want to hang out with a grouchy, boring man nearly ten years his senior I did not understand. He wasn’t asking to date me. I understood that. But even wanting to spend time together as innocently as he’d just proposed made zero sense.

At least…until he spoke again, and shattered my walls completely.

“I like you,” Robin said simply.

And I figured that was answer enough.

Ben Montgomery was hilarious. All bossy and tall with one eyebrow that wouldn’t stop twitching whenever he was annoyed. After my nap and thanks to my daily dose of Ben-a-dryl—damn, I should not be thinking about Ben and drilling at the same time—I was feeling sooomuchbetter.

He was obviously a genius.

And also knew how to purchase a badass couch.

It’d been another two sleepless nights between the time I’d blown Ben off—not in the way I wanted, dammit—and the time I showed up half out of my mind at his office. And those two nights felt like a living hell.

The only thing I had in my stinky-old-lady room to keep me company at the B&B was yet another yellowing floral comforter, and my own existential dread.

Miles was back at school. He was an art teacher, which I found super fucking cute and very fitting. I loved picturing his giant frame standing at the front of a classroom full of leaky-nosed-crayon-wielding-hobbits. Bet he was the best damn art teacher they’d ever had, lucky little shits.

I sure as hell had not had a teacher like him growing up.

The only exception was maybe my music teacher.

She’d been pretty cool.

Damn, I hadn’t thought about her in a long time.

I was thirty-three now, and that may not have been old, but I sure wore my years that way. Wore them like each one weighed a thousand tons, because sometimes it felt like they did.

Because I didn’t want to be a sad sack and I wanted to make Ben’s eyebrow twitch again, I smacked his ass with my femur. He startled, glaring over his shoulder at me. He was bent over the pile of bones I’d accidentally toppled, on his knees, because he’d said crouching was uncomfortable on his back.

I wasn’t sure why he’d told me that, but I appreciated it all the same.

“Robin.” Ben said my name like it was a sentence, irritation and amusement laced in his tone.

“Has anyone ever told you that your ass is stubborn?” I asked, smacking said ass again. The plastic bone made a very satisfying hollow thud sound. I was careful not to whack too hard. Now that he’d mentioned his back, I was wary of hurting him.

“No.” He paused. “Why?” Ben’s question was dry as hell, like he knew what was coming before I even said it.

“Because it just won’t quit.”

Thwack.

Damn. It even jiggled.

“If you hit me again you aren’t going to like the consequences.” I could hear his laughter, so I didn’t take him too seriously.

“Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises.” I thumped the bone into my palm, leaving him alone for now as he painstakingly begannotching all the little plastic pieces together again. He was halfway through and I didn’t want this to end.

Maybe if I smacked him more it’d buy me time?

I didn’t want to go back upstairs alone. Didn’t want to curl into a ball on my mattress, counting down the hours till Miles was off work and he could spend time with me. Didn’t want to think too hard about the impending doom that always seemed to hang over me nowadays.

I’d flown across the country and still hadn’t moved far enough to escape the shadow of dread that clung inky black to my heart. My contract was up in less than two months, and the idea of renewing it made me want to die.

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