Page 60 of Perfectly Grumpy

“Stop trying to act like you’re okay when you’re not. I hate it when girls do that. It’s confusing.”

She stands. “But I’m not acting.”

“Lauren, I know you’re upset. You have your tells.”

“I do not.”

I point at her fingers. “Spinning that ring, for one.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I’m observant, Sunny. And what I said before—you’re easy to read.”

She steps back, and her legs bump the bed, throwing her body off-balance. I grab her arm to steady her and my heart punches against my rib cage at the immediate rush I get.

I’m suddenly aware that her t-shirt is brushing against me. “Lauren, I’m not going to share a bed with you unless you ask…and only if we have boundaries.”

“Okay, fine.” She tucks her hair over one ear. “Could you sleep on the sofa bed?”

“This is about survival,” I say firmly. “Nothing else.”

“I can share a bed without it meaning anything,” she says cooly. “I wouldn’t consider it otherwise. Boundaries, right?”

I point at the bed. “You stay on your half. Keep your legs on your own side. No touching me. And for the love, put on something other than those tissue paper shorts.”

“Are you done, Sheriff?” she says. “Or do I need to sign a waiver too?” She grabs a pair of joggers from her luggage. “Turn around so the sight of my underwear doesn’t scorch your eyeballs.”

I turn around as the mattress frame squeaks. A few seconds later, she’s settled under her blanket before I turn off the lamp.

Even with my body encased inside this sleeping bag, I don’t feel ready to sleep. Knowing she’s this close is enough to make every nerve in my body feel like an exposed wire.

“Oh, and, Tate?” she says, rolling toward me. “Just so you know, I snore too. Have a good sleep!”

“Now you’re telling me, Sunny?” I roll away from her with a groan, shoving the pillow over my head. This is going to be the longest night of my life.

TWENTY-ONE

Tate

I stretch and roll over, feeling clamped down by something on top of me. My brain, still foggy with sleep, takes a second to process the fact that I amnotalone in this bed. There’s an arm draped across my chest. A leg hitched over mine.

Lauren’s leg.

Every muscle in my body tenses as my sleep-addled brain catches up to reality. There’s still a sleeping bag between us, but that doesn’t matter. Heat pricks my skin as her tangerine scent washes over me. My body is fully aware of the fact that Lauren is practically wrapped around me like a boa constrictor.

The moment I let myself entertain the idea of being with Lauren, I’m in serious trouble. Sure, there’s a spark of something every time her brown eyes meet mine. But I have to stop myself from thinking there could be anything more than that brief connection between us. She’s my PR manager, and I’ve already learned how easily a woman can snap my heart in half.

I try to extract myself from this precarious position, but she’s got me in a hold. I weigh my options. I could wake her up. But then I’d have to explain why I let her use me as a body pillow all night.

Instead, I attempt a concentrated, strategic escape, wigglingout from under her arm and leg inch by inch. When I’m almost free, she shifts, mumbling something incoherent, and throws her leg back over me.

I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling.This is how I die.

Okay, Sheriff, pull yourself together.

I take four deep breaths, and then, after a series of excruciatingly slow movements, I roll away, slipping out of the sleeping bag. I run a hand down my face, trying to shake off the heat still on my skin.

Behind me, Lauren stirs. “It’s morning?” she murmurs, her voice groggy as she lifts her face off the pillow, just enough for me to catch the faintest hint of drool on her cheek.

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