But wrong wasn’t the right word because she was warm and cozy and perfectly comfortable—except for her irritating need to visit the bathroom.
She opened her eyes to find she’d fallen asleep on the sofa.
In Garrett’s arms.
No light came through the windows, and a glance at her watch told her it was just after four a.m.
She hadn’t wanted to tackle the mess of her bedroom the night before, nor had she been eager to be alone. And maybe Garrett hadn’t been eager to leave because he’d suggested they find a movie.
They’d grabbed the throw blankets and snuggled up together in front of the fire and the TV, where they started a nineties romantic comedy she’d watched a thousand times but he’d never seen.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake after that. Not long.
Shifting, she angled to look at Garrett. He was leaning against the corner of the sectional, head resting against the cushions, breathing softly.
She wanted to go back to sleep beside him, where it was warm and comfortable and safe.
If he woke, he’d leave, and then she’d probably stay awake the rest of the night, however long that might be.
She closed her eyes and tried to drift off, but it wasn’t happening, not now that she knew he was there.
He’d been so kind since he’d picked her up. Even his protectiveness, though it bordered on demanding, stemmed from his concern for her. And the way he’d held her when she cried. Laughed with her about the holster. Stoked the fire to make sure she was warm.
He’d started as her contractor and quickly morphed into a friend. Now, even that line was blurring.
She liked this man. She really liked him. Her feelings were far stronger than they should be for a guy who would only be in her life for a short time. Because she wasn’t staying in Coventry, and he seemed as much a part of this town as the mountains and forests and lake.
With that thought, she shimmied out of his arms and headed for the downstairs bathroom.
She did her business, then wiped the smudged makeup from her face to remove the raccoon eyes. She still wore the holster, though it no longer felt as foreign as it had at first. She could get used to it. And having it with her did make her feel safer.
When she returned to the living room, Garrett was standing by the door.
“Did you like the movie?”
He laughed, the sound low and alluring, and she told herself not to step closer.
Her feet moved that direction anyway.
“I do love Billy Crystal,” he said. “We’ll have to try it again when we’re more awake.”
“It’s a date.”
Ugh. Why had she said that?
But he smiled and held his hand out.
She took it, and he pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her.
When she looked into his eyes, they were smoldering like the coals in the dying fire.
“Hey, you.” His voice was low and rumbly. “Is this the part where we’re supposed to toss out our see-you-laters and pretend like nothing’s changed?”
“I didn’t read the script.”
“If there is one, we should use it for kindling.”
Before she could come up with a witty response, he lowered his head and brushed a kiss across her lips.