Page 24 of Play Book

“Canyon…”

“It’s all right, babe.” He puts me down on the bed and pulls back the covers. “Go on, get in. I’m going to put our teacups in the kitchen and turn out the lights.”

“You’re coming back, right?” I whisper in the semi-darkness.

“Give me two minutes.”

For some reason, I can’t fully relax until he comes back and the moment he slides in beside me, I nestle deeper into my pillow.

“Thank you. For being with me tonight. I was really rattled.”

“You’re welcome.” I feel the warmth of his body as he scoots closer to me.

The urge to roll into his arms is strong, but the pull of sleep is stronger.

And when I wake up in the morning, the space beside me is empty.

Myriad feelings hit me as last night’s events come roaring back, and I sit up with a groan.

Was I truly so needy I asked a veritable stranger to sleep beside me last night?

I sure was.

But he did it without me really having to ask.

The truth is, he volunteered.

And he was a perfect gentleman.

I don’t know if that makes me happy or disappoints me, but it’s probably a combination of the two.

I was attracted to him enough to want to sleep with him, and then the universe laughed in the face of my plans.

He could have bolted the second things got serious. Hell, I was half-naked when the call had come in, yet he hadn’t hesitated to stop everything, get his shirt back on, and drive me to the gallery. He stayed with me through the whole situation, brought me home, gave me the best mini massage of my life, and then slept beside me because he sensed I was nervous about being alone.

I’m disappointed he didn’t wake me this morning, but I was probably out cold, and he had to get to practice.

Once I clean up, I pad into the kitchen and turn on my coffeemaker.

And there on the counter is a piece of paper with unfamiliar handwriting.

Saylor,

You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you. I hope today is a better day. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.

Canyon

PS I still want to discuss that painting. Please don’t sell it without talking to me first.

For some reason, his note makes me smile, and I read it again before folding and sliding it into my purse.

I’m going to gift him the painting as a thank you for last night.

It’s also an excuse to see him again.

That’s probably silly. There is no reason I can’t call or text him, but I want to see him in person. See the look on his face when I show up with the painting. Help him decide where to hang it. Maybe even offer to cook him dinner.

Unfortunately, all of that has to wait for another day.

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