Page 67 of The Man I Love

“You can’t sleep in the truck, Tristan.

He tilted his head to the side, grabbed the other pillow, and shimmied the next pillowcase up. “Why not?”

“It’s not big enough,” she said as a matter of fact. “You’ll get cramps and have a hard time sleeping.” While it was true, she found herself questioning her sanity. Why did she care so much? Why was it so important that she practically yelled at him?

She decided to go a different route, placing her hands on her hips. “Sleeping next to me for one night won’t kill you, Tristan Montgomery.” She’d meant to sound comical, playful, but as soon as the words left her lips, she knew she’d missed the mark.

He stared back at her, his eyes intense in a way that made her melt from the inside out,“Want to bet?”his eyes said to her, but he remained completely silent.

He stepped closer, stopping just a foot away. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, giving her every chance to back out. Tristan was usually loud and confident in everything he did, but hearing him like this—so soft, so uncertain—while standing so close left her almost breathless.

“Yes,” she said, taking the pillow from his hand to throw to his side of the bed.

He grinned, then took his bag off the floor and disappeared into the bathroom.

Alone, Samantha plopped down onto the mattress and began to pray.“Please lord, watch over me. Please help me make good decisions and not act like a total lunatic.”He’d said he’d sleep in the truck, which would have solved all her problems, yet… She couldn’t let him do it. Despite everything that had happened, she still wanted what was best for him, and she knew sleeping in the truck wasn’t it. At least, that was what she told herself. She wanted him comfortable—happy—and the thought of him trying to cram his body into that tiny cab was unbearable.

Still… in their two and a half years together, Tristan had slept every night in the nude, and now, that was the only thought lingering in her mind.

There was no TV, no radio, not even abookin the entire room to entertain herself with, which left her with nothing but her overactive imagination.

She’d always fallen asleep in his arms and woken up with him halfway on top of her by morning … sometimes kissing her neck. Other times …

Her pulse quickened, and she forced her mind to go blank. She pulled the covers down on the mattress and climbed under the sheets. What was she doing? Yes, she hadn’t had sex in a long time, but this wasnotthe time to think about Tristan naked.Focus Samantha!She closed her eyes and rested her head against the headboard.

Every sound in the room became magnified—the wind rustling, the crickets chirping—was that the sound of cows mooing in the pasture a mile away?

When the bathroom door creaked, she jumped and her eyes flew open.

“What?” Tristan asked, spinning around, as though something were behind him.

She scanned over his body, thankful to see he had gray sweatpants on, and tried to think of something to say. “Sorry I—I was—relaxing—and you?—”

“You don’t look relaxed,” he said, scrubbing his head with the corner of a towel which draped from around his neck.

She shrugged, using all her self-control to keep her eyes from shifting downward. “I...” She shut her mouth and closed her eyes again.What does he know?

“Are you in pain?”

“No, why?”

“Your face is red.”

She shimmied down on the mattress, feeling like she was back in third grade when she accidentally farted during the quietest part of a spelling test and everyone turned to stare at her. She wedged a pillow under her head and stared in his direction. “I’m tired is all.”

He didn’t respond. Just moved toward the front door, checked the handle to make sure it was locked, then fastened the deadbolt. She watched the muscles on his bare back shift as he opened the windows, letting in a gush of fresh summer air that made the cabin feel at least ten degrees cooler. Every inch of him was familiar to her. Every muscle, every scar. She watched as he stacked their bags in the corner, making sure everything was exactly how he liked it. The action comforted her in a way, made her feel at home for the first time in a very long while.

She couldn’t help it, when she was sure he wasn’t looking her eyes dipped lower still, traveling down to his happy trail. His abs shifted as he worked, and she wondered if he realized how attractive he was. Even his scars added to his appeal. His hair was damp, unbrushed and disheveled, which made him look like a model in a swimsuit magazine. She knew he must have washed his hair in that tiny sink and the thought made her smile. Then her eyes traveled to his face, and she realized he was watching her––his jaw taut and face blank of all humor.

She flipped to her other side, found the light switch and flicked it off, casting the room in darkness.

Too soon, the mattress shifted beside her and her heart grew wings, fluttering so hard she felt like her ribs would soon burst open. She felt like a teenage girl again playing spin the bottle for the first time—not a grown ass woman in bed with the father of her unborn child.

The blankets tugged in his direction, and she felt him move closer to her. His warm skin radiated heat under the covers. At first, she thought it was intentional, but then she realizedthey were two adults sharing a full-sized bed, and one of them had shoulders the size of a linebacker. That fact wouldn’t have troubled her, except that Tristan was completely restless tonight. Tossing and turning every two seconds, probably sore and uncomfortable from the long drive. But then he moved again, flipping this time in her direction—like something was bothering him. Like there was something important he wanted to say. Like he planned to start a difficult conversation.

She turned to face him, glancing at his profile, which was only illuminated by the full moon beaming through the window. Exhaustion made her body sink a little farther into the mattress, but she wouldn’t avoid this conversation any longer. If he wanted to talk, she was here. She was listening.

His face remained still in the darkness, but she could see his chest rising and falling with his breath. The tension in the room was palpable. Her chest became tight, and just when his mouth opened, she blurted out, “Does this place remind you of High Meadows?”

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