Page 8 of One Whopper of a Love Story

The door swung open, and before I could ask if she wanted me to wait outside, she clasped my hand and tugged me inside. “I shouldn’t be long. You won’t care if I wear pajamas on the way to your place, right? I don’t see the point of putting on regular clothes and then changing again when I get to your place.”

“Don’t mind a bit.” I maintained eye contact with her and didn’t let my gaze wander.

“Good. Okay. Be right back.” She held up a finger, then spun and waddled down the hall.

I rubbed my face and paced. What a night. No one was going to believe this story. I still wasn’t sure if I’d wake up in the morning and realize it was all a dream. That was the upside to staying together tonight. I’d know first thing in the morning. Then I could either ask her out or find a therapist. If I was having realistic dreams about mermaids, frogs, and my fear of needles, I probably needed to talk that through with a professional.

She rubbed my back as she stepped around me. Then, as natural as anything she slid her hands up my chest and around my neck, lifting the hem of her sweatshirt above her waistline. The waistband of her pajama pants—pants made of hot pink fabric covered in bright green frogs—was rolled over at least twice. The fin fit her better than her pajamas. And to get her arms around my neck, she was on her tiptoes.

“More comfortable?” I wrapped my arms around her.

She nodded. “I’m not really superstitious or anything, but numbers matter to me. I have this thing about odd numbers being lucky.”

I didn’t have the slightest clue where she was headed with this train of thought. And as long as she was pressed against me, chatting away, I didn’t care that I didn’t have a clue. “Okay.”

“And when I’m at your place, I don’t think I should...” She blew out a breath, then dropped her forehead to my chest. “No kissing once we get to your place. Or anything else. Because I’m far too infatuated to make wise decisions right now.”

“Too infatuated, huh?” I inhaled the fruity scent of her shampoo as I whispered in her ear.

“That was probably way too honest.”

“Not at all. And I’m fine with your wishes. I understand.” I still had no clue how odd numbers and not kissing fit together, so I didn’t fully understand. But the boundary issues were clear, and I’d respect those.

“Okay, good. So, will you kiss me now?”

She didn’t have to ask twice for a third kiss. I bent down and touched my lips to hers, making her odd-numbered dreams come true. Without breaking our kiss, I scooped her into my arms, and she giggled. What a sound. This had to be a dream, but I intended to enjoy every last second until I woke up.

I unlocked my front door and pushed it open for Layla to enter first. “Make yourself at home. It’s kind of a mess because I wasn’t expecting company.”

Chewing her bottom lip, she stepped inside and glanced around. “Nice place.”

As much as I wanted to chew on that bottom lip for her, I wouldn’t. Not because it was obvious she was nervous and sleepy, but because she’d been clear about what she didn’t want.

I liked a woman who knew what she wanted. “If you want to talk to someone who can vouch for me, I can arrange that. Tessa would. Probably. We sort of got off to a rough start because—yeah. Never mind all that. Garrett would vouch for me. I swear you’re safe here.”

Smiling, she positioned herself right in front of me and rested one hand on my chest. “I already decided that I trust you. It’s kind of like when you see a really gorgeous book cover, and you know you’ll love the story.” Nodding toward the couch, she covered a yawn before speaking again. “Can I sleep here?”

If her analogy meant that she thought I was gorgeous, I’d happily stick around for the second part. I really needed to get my head in reality and out of fairytale land. “Yeah. Since we’re supposed to watch out for each other, I figured, I’d sleep here in this recliner.”

She curled up in the spot next to it. “Okay.”

I ran back to my room and grabbed pillows and blankets. “Here. Use this.” Once she’d tucked the pillow under her head, I draped a blanket over her. “If you need anything, tap me.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounded dreamy and far away.

“I’m going to run back and change.” I lingered a second, studying her as she lay there with her eyes closed.

She wasn’t the only one with a case of infatuation.

After changing into something appropriate for our little sleepover, I settled into the recliner and pulled a blanket over me. Gently, I ran my fingers through her hair.

She was adorable in a curvy, pint-sized package. With a hand on her shoulder, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, waiting for the sleep fairies to visit.

Layla bolted upright. “Where’s my phone? How long have you been asleep?” She seemed to like saying things that didn’t fit together.

“Your phone is in the tub of rice on the coffee table. And I haven’t fallen asleep yet.”

“We need to set an alarm to wake you every two hours. Isn’t that what the nurse said?”

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