Page 17 of Marked

“You’re not actually scared of sleeping upstairs, are you?” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Scared? Please. I’m tactically cautious. There’s a difference.” I clutched my coffee mug closer. “Besides, who needs a proper bed when you’ve got premium hardwood flooring and a sleeping bag that’s probably older than both of us combined?”

Caleb’s laugh was unfairly attractive. “Want some company with that tactical caution? I mean, coffee. Want to share some coffee?”

“This?” I lifted my mug. “This isn’t coffee. This is what coffee has nightmares about. But you’re welcome to risk it.”

“Think I’ll pass.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “How about we work on that car instead?”

“Oh, thank God, yes.” I practically bounced toward the door, then remembered my current state of dishevelment. “Um, maybe I should—”

“Take a minute to change?” Caleb suggested, lips twitching. “Unless you’re planning to revolutionize car repair fashion with those pajamas.”

“Hey, don’t judge my life choices,” I retorted but still hesitated at the door. “Though maybe I should—”

“Go ahead,” he said, that warmth still in his voice. “I’ll get started on the initial inspection.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” I declared, already trailing after him like a caffeinated duckling, sleep clothes and all. “My car, my trauma. Someone needs to be here to give the eulogy when you discover just how dead this car really is. I’m not missing the diagnosis, even if I look like I just escaped from a clearance rack.”

Caleb glanced over his shoulder, doing a double take at my shuffling pursuit. “You’re really coming out here in your…” He gestured vaguely at my ensemble.

“What, this?” I looked down at my worn space-themed pajama pants and oversized t-shirt that proclaimed I’m Not Always Sarcastic. Sometimes I’m Asleep. “I’ll have you know this is haute couture sleepwear. Very now. Very brave.”

“Brave is one word for it.” He chuckled, popping the hood. “Though maybe not the one I’d choose for those little green alien slippers.”

I gasped in mock offense, clutching my coffee mug to my chest. “How dare you insult the Wise One? He’s keeping my toes warm and judging you so hard right now.”

“My sincerest apologies to your footwear.” Caleb leaned over the engine, and seriously, no one should look that good while examining car parts. “Though I have to ask—is that a laser sword on your pajama pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

I nearly spat out my coffee. “Did you just—did you just make a sci-fi innuendo? At this ungodly hour? While fondling my engine?”

“Fondling?” His eyebrows shot up, grin widening. “I’m conducting a very professional inspection, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.” I took another sip of coffee, trying to hide my own smile. “And I’m a space princess.”

“Well, you’ve got the bedroom hair for it,” he quipped, then immediately looked like he wished he could take it back.

I ran a self-conscious hand through my disaster of a bedhead. “Wow. Just wow. And here I thought we were having a moment. I’m wounded, Mr. Stone. Wounded.”

Something flickered in his eyes at the formal name, a brief shadow across his easy smile. “If it helps, it’s very… artistic bedhead?”

“Oh, dig that hole deeper, please.” But I was grinning now, unable to help myself. “Next, you’ll tell me my morning breath is avant-garde.”

He straightened up from the engine, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Would it help if I said you make sleep-deprived look adorable?”

The coffee mug nearly slipped from my fingers. “I—you—that’s not playing fair,” I spluttered.

“Who said I was playing fair?” His eyes met mine, and there was something there that made my heart stutter in my chest.

“Right. Well.” I cleared my throat, desperately searching for my usual wit. “How about we focus on the other disaster in my life?” I gestured to the car. “At least that one I understand.”

“You sure about that?” Caleb smirked. “Because I’ve seen your maintenance history…”

“Hey! Some of us consider duct tape a valid repair option!”

His laughter echoed across the yard, rich and warm as morning sunlight. And if I stood there in my ridiculous pajamas, grinning like an idiot and feeling weirdly proud about making him laugh… well, I was going to blame it on the coffee.

Definitely the coffee.

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