Page 21 of Married in Misty Mountain

I playfully whack his arm. “I’m curious because it was my first kiss, okay?”

He freezes l for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s not good.”

Hurt, I reply, “Gee, I guess I shouldn’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to.”

Hurley sits up in bed. “I didn’t mean the kiss was not good. It’s not good that I hadn’t thought about that. Of course it was your first kiss.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “God, I’m an idiot.”

I’m confused. “Why are you an idiot?”

“Because I should have realized…and discussed it with you first.”

Laughing, I say, “We should have discussed a kiss? So romantic. Should we have signed a contract about it, too?”

He makes a very cute, frustrated grunt. “I’m trying to say that I should have been more sensitive about your…lack of experience. We could have done your first kiss privately so you wouldn’t be self-conscious about it.”

This conversation is headed in a truly weird, if sweet, direction. “Listen. I just want to know if I did a good job.”

He stares at me for a long, long time, his jaw ticking. “You did a good job. Seriously. You get an ‘A’ and a gold star.” For added sarcasm, he gives me a thumbs up. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“Fine,” I huff. “If you don’t want to tell me the truth, just go to sleep.”

I yank the fluffy white duvet away from him and cocoon myself in it.

Hurley sighs and gets up from the bed, taking the tray of snacks and popping it into the fridge in the kitchenette.

I sneak another look over my shoulder as he trudges back to bed, and I’m treated to a full view of his hand traveling up under the hem of his tee shirt, rubbing his tanned stomach.

When he makes a move to tug off his shirt, I quickly turn and face the wall.

He’s taunting me. I know it.

Once he’s settled into bed, I roll over and stare blatantly at the scar on his lower back. I don’t know if it’s the devil on my shoulder or bold curiosity, but I find myself reaching for it.

I snap out of it and draw my hand back when Hurley pipes up. “The kiss was good, Shenna. Really good.”

Hurley is fully dressed, towering over me when I wake up the next morning.

“We need to talk about boundaries.”

What a rude way to wake up.

“What? Huh?”

“We need to talk?—”

I cut him off. “I heard you. First coffee, then talk.”

”Way ahead of you. Ella sent up a full breakfast already.” The steaming mug Hurley carefully hands me smells heavenly, which improves my mood. I sit up and hold the mug to my nose.

He crosses his arms and watches me sip my coffee, looking bemused. “I didn’t realize you weren’t a morning person. Sorry to be so abrupt.”

The coffee is perfect, and I’m suddenly hit by the aroma of bacon and fresh bread. “Breakfast, you say?”

Though unnecessary, I accept the offer of Hurley’s hand as I get to my feet and pad to the kitchenette.

“I feel more refreshed after sleeping in that bed than I’ve felt in a while,” I say as I perch on the stool and survey the spread: an artfully arranged fruit tray, warm artisan bread, honey butter, eggs two ways, and of course, bacon. “How about you?”

“I’ve slept better,” Hurley says, easing into the stool beside me.

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