Page 23 of Falling

“Fine. Psychological thriller.”

“Ooh, good choice.” She flips through the online movies until she settles on something we haven’t seen yet. She curls up against me, and I throw a blanket over our legs to keep us warm.

I know we look like an old married couple already. Except, I can’t keep Geneva the way I want to. A romantic breakup would destroy this. I’m living in a quandary. I don’t want to give her up, but I can’t keep her either. Life isn’t fair.

nine

GENEVA

I feel much betterthis morning when I wake up. Except that this is a really small bed, and I’m on fire. One eye pries open, then the other. I’m not in bed. I obviously fell asleep watching movie number three. I’m also not on fire, there’s simply a burly, warm body wrapped around me. Peter snores softly behind me.

“Peter,” I say, nudging him. He’s pressed up against my back. His impressive morning wood is tucked between my ass cheeks. Normally, I’d be good with that, except I really need the bathroom. “Pete.”

“What?” he growls in my ear.

“Let me up. We fell asleep on the couch.” I try to unwrap his arms from my body. The harder I try, the tighter he holds on. “Peter!”

“Fine,” he grumbles. I kick the blanket off me and stand up. He snatches it back under his chin.

Something you might not know about Peter Winsloe is that he’s a snuggler. It’s why Rand would rather sleep on the floor than have to share a bed with him. There have been times when they traveled in the past when that was their only option. Personally, I kind of like the snuggling.

When I return from the bathroom, he’s still sprawled on the couch. I take one of the chairs next to it rather than wrestle him for the space. He slings the blanket at me and sits up.

“Want some breakfast?” I ask.

“Yeah. Surprise me.” He scratches the side of his face where his beard was. Standing, he takes a minute to find his balance. It gives me time to admire the impressive tent in the front of his pajama pants. I’ve seen it a few times over the years. It never fails to make my mouth water.

“Stop staring, or it won’t go down,” he grouches and moves toward the bathroom.

“I don’t mind so much if it doesn’t go down,” I call after him. He grunts, then the bathroom door closes.

I pick up the phone and order a western omelet for Peter. The spinach frittata with goat cheese works for me. I also order two large glasses of orange juice. I figure we could both use the vitamin C before continuing on today.

He flops back down on the couch. Sadly, the tent is no longer pitched.

“Sorry. I don’t remember falling asleep,” he says. “We’ll eat and then head out.”

The food arrives. We discuss the day while we eat. Afterward, I return to my room to pack. The formal clothes were returned yesterday while I was sleeping half the day away. It doesn’t take long to gather the rest of my things up.

There’s a knock on the door, and I let Peter in. It’s fine for him to prop the door open, but if I do it, I get a lecture.

“Got everything?” He takes my bag out of my hand. We check out and retrieve the Rover from the valet. Part of me is sad to see Vegas go. The other part can’t wait to ride horses in Zion National Park.

Peter told me over breakfast that he booked us into a bed-and-breakfast near the park for tonight. From what he described, it sounds quaint. As long as there’s a soaker tub, I don’t care.

“Ready?” he asks as I climb into the SUV. “I think it’s around five hours or so.”

“Lead on. I’ll get the next quiz ready,” I tease.

He groans.

“This one is titled: Will he be great in bed?”

“How many quizzes are in that magazine?”

“Question one,” I say, ignoring him. “Do you trust him?” I study Peter until he raises an eyebrow at me. We roll slowly out of Las Vegas. “Totally. Top marks for trustworthiness.”

“That’s good to know, I guess. It’s a little late if not; I already have you trapped in a car with me.”

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