Page 60 of If Only In Our Dreams

Yes.

Sleep.

Sleep was good.

If I’d been less exhausted I might’ve noticed that a third, heavier set of steps didn’t sound for a solid minute after thegirls had left. That Ben was watching over me from the doorway, protective and sweet, and everything I’d never let myself dream I could have.

A little while later the front door opened and shut. I could hear its echo down the hallway, as well as quiet murmured voices. “Come along, angels,” Ben said gently as he herded his kids down the hall. “Grandma’s here.”

“Are those Robin Johnson’s shoes at the door?” Beatrice Montgomery’s voice was high and strained with surprise.

“Shhhh, I’ll explain later,” Ben urged.

I caught a few more snippets of conversation but nothing that made any sense. And by the time the front door shut I was dead to the world once again.

This time when I woke, it was because I smelled something heavenly.

Roasted coffee beans, thick and delicious. Buttery somethings—and was that…oh god. Yes. Bacon.

Rising like a re-animated corpse, I groggily thudded to the chilly wood floor. My shoes were off, which wasn’t surprising. I’d taken them off when I’d come inside last night, not wanting to be the kind of asshole who trekked mud into someone else’s house.

Despite having toddlers, Ben’s apartment was incredibly clean, and I didn’t want to…you know, ruin it?

What was surprising, however, were the socks I was wearing. Because they weren’t my socks. And they were unlike any socks I’d ever seen. Fuzzy and furry, thick as hell, the things went all the way up to my knees. I worried I’d slip, but when I tookanother step with a grimace, I realized the bottoms of the damn things had sticky pads.

Maybe that wasn’t the right name for them?

But that’s certainly what they felt like.

They were clearly idiot proof.

When I glanced down, my eyebrows shot up. My jacket was gone—that, I’d definitely not taken off—and in its place was another one of Ben’s giant-ass hoodies. It had some sort of logo on it, looked like it was for college or something. When I pulled the hem up to my nose to sniff at it, more of Ben’s delicious scent filled my lungs.

Damn.

Had Ben dressed me?

That was the only logical conclusion.

Groaning softly, I wandered out into the hallway, fabric still covering half my face.

I figured I’d tug it down before he saw me—but didn’t want to give it up so soon.

Only that didn’t end up working out because Ben was already standing at the other end of the hallway when I entered. And he got an eyeful of me molesting his hoodie.

“Good morning,” he said, eyes dancing. His eyebrow twitched, and my face went bright red.

“Nose was cold,” I lied, the hoodie still covering my face. Like a naughty kid, I yanked it down—only that sucked too because now my nose reallywascold. And also my blush was even more obvious.

Ben’s eyebrow twitched again, almost like he was waiting for something.

It took me a second, but I got it. Grinning, because this felt really domestic and kinda amazing, I shrugged a shoulder. “Morning, Ben-nifer.” It was hard to look him in the eye, so Ididn’t. Instead, I made eye contact with his shoulder—so broad—and the expensive-looking sweater that adorned it.

“How did you sleep?” Ben asked, voice even warmer. He did not acknowledge his new nickname.

“Um,” I licked my lips, my piercing slick against my tongue. “Good.”

“I’m glad.”

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