Page 29 of Hush Darling
“Oh, I only plan on staying one night, but thank you.”
“Only one night?” Tate looked alarmed.
“What’s the benefit to one lousy night?” one of the twins asked.
“Why rush home?” Peter asked as if her plans were news to him. “The Lost Boys made you a good room. Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I do, but, Peter, I have responsibilities. This was only supposed to be a short trip.”
“I never said that.”
Stunned that he thought it could be anything else, she gaped at him. “Well, I’m saying it.”
He waved away her words and lounged on the bed. A damp spot formed under his wet clothes. “People always say they need to do this or that when, in reality, they don’t need to do anything. If something needs to be done, someone will do it.”
“I don’t want someone else to do everything for me. I like having responsibilities. People are counting on me.” It was a matter of integrity. Her eyes narrowed at the sprawling wet spot. “You’re getting my covers wet.”
“So? You’re not going to sleep for hours.”
Maybe she would need the blankets Cass left after all.
She turned her back on him. “You must be Tristan and Thayer.” The twins stood side by side like a mirror image of each other and beamed under her attention.
“That’s us,” they said at the same time. “We did good, didn’t we, Pete?”
They showed more interest in impressing Peter than meeting her, but there was something innocent and sweet about their hero worship.
“Yeah, yeah, the room’s great. Whatever,” Peter said, once more waving away their need for praise. Then he jumped off the bed and corralled them toward the door. “Everyone out. Wendy’s cold, and I need to warm her up.”
The Lost Boys laughed as if understanding exactly how Peter planned to accomplish the task. “Let us know if you need a hand,” the twins called.
Wendy gaped, and Peter shut the door. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
“Hold on.” She held up a hand and glanced at the connecting bathroom. “I think I want to shower.”
“Great.” He peeled off his wet shirt, exposing washboard abs and a tan chest sculpted with muscle.
As soon as he unsnapped his damp pants, she clarified, “Alone.”
He paused from stripping. “What fun would that be?”
“It’s not about fun. It’s about avoiding hypothermia.” She opened the bedroom door. “So, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. But can you wash my nightgown so it’s dry tonight?” She could wear one of Cass’s flannels when she got out. And maybe she could make a late supper for the Lost Boys as a thank-you for setting up her room.
“Gonna have to take it off if you want me to wash it.”
“Well, yes.” She eyed the door, but he didn’t budge. “Fine. Turn around.”
He turned, and she quickly peeled off the wet nightgown, careful to keep her body covered with the towel. She flung the sopping wet fabric over his shoulder.
“There.”
He turned and faced her with a smirk. “The boys did a nice job placing that mirror there.”
Her eyes darted to the wall where Peter had been staring, and she scoffed. “Jerk!”
