Page 11 of Sheep Calm and Merry On
He thought Devon might get it, the way he was smiling right now, soft and happy and hopeful. “You got a bedtime too, Noah?”
And—God, he really fucking did, but he didn’t get the chance to say so, because Nelson made the world’s most dramatic dog noise, uncurled from his ball, and bodily threw himself sideways on the bed until his head rested on Noah’s leg.
Noah bit his lip to suppress a laugh. “I think Nelson does, for sure.”
“Yeah, he’s real subtle.” But Devon was still smiling, even as he gave Noah’s pinky one last squeeze and then sat up to crawl under the blankets. “He’s got a point, though. You should get some sleep before the headache can start.”
Noah could really feel it now—the throbbing at the back of his head—and his body was even more tired than his brain. He wormed his way under five pounds of soft, thick quilts and snuggled into the pillow. It smelled a little dusty. Somehow that made it feel homey, relaxing.
The lights clicked out. Devon must have an app on his phone.
“Night, Devon.”
“Good night, Noah.”
THE FIRE had burned down to embers by the time Devon awoke early the next morning. But while the room—and the skin of Devon’s face—was uncomfortably chilly, the rest of him was downright cozy. It was amazing what a half-dozen blankets and a dog’s body heat could do.
And then his eyes focused on the tangle in front of him—a messy riot of browns and golds that smelled like Devon’s shampoo, instead of a white-and-black coat that smelled like dog and sheep and hay—and he registered that he’d curled up around Noah, not Nelson.
Awkward, but on the other hand, definitely less worrisome than waking up with a boner while spooning his dog. Besides, they each had multiple blanket layers. He was safe from mortification, apart from the snuggling.
He didn’t get the feeling Noah would mind the snuggling. To be honest, he probably wouldn’t be upset about the boner either. That and the frigid temperature outside the little cocoon prompted Devon to ignore the fact that he was awake and bury his face against the back of Noah’s neck again, where it was warm. Noah was still asleep anyway.
Or so Devon thought until the blanket burrito in front of him mumbled with an audible smile, “Well good morning to you too.”
At least Devon didn’t have his arm around him. For one thing, it would’ve frozen off. For another, even Devon, at six two, would’ve had a tough time getting his arm around Noah and that many blankets.
“I can’t hear you,” he said. “I’m still sleeping. Shhh.”
“Not all of you.”
God damn it! “There’s no way you can feel that through twelve blankets. What is this, the Princess and the Penis?”
The Noah burrito shook with laughter and wiggled until they were nose to nose. He looked even more Muppetlike in the morning, with pillow creases on his face and sleepy brown eyes under those caterpillar eyebrows. “Aww, don’t sell yourself short.” The eyebrows gave a wiggle. “Anyway, I’m very sensitive to these things.”
He was so fucking cute he was going to give Devon an existential crisis. “I bet you are.”
At the foot of the bed, Nelson snorted, then nosed Devon pointedly in the shin.
“Don’t you fucking start,” Devon said to him.
Nelson flicked an ear. He was sitting sphynxlike, head up, eyes intent on Devon, ready to go as soon as Devon gave the word.
“Cockblock and alarm clock in one,” Noah said with a wry little smile. Devon wanted to yell into his pillow about it, or kiss it off, or both. Both? But maybe in reverse order. “Impressive.”
He pulled the blankets over his face and let out a noise of frustration. “Nelson loves routine the most.” Then he popped his head out again. “Okay. I’m going to put another log on and see if we can’t get it a bit warmer in here. Looks like the power’s back, so I’ll turn the furnace on too. Don’t feel like you have to get up.”
Under the blanket mountain, Noah wiggled again. After a second, his hands emerged at the top; he pulled the covers up to his chin. “I’ll keep your spot warm for you.”
Oh God, Devon liked him so much already it was stupid. He dragged himself out of bed before he could do something about it, and got dressed to go handle the morning chores.
The sheep were in high spirits. Gritty nipped at a few of the others who tried to get to the feeding trough in front of him, then shoved his whole face in the bucket as Devon was trying to fill it, resulting in the feed spilling onto the ground. Par for the course.
“Whatever,” Devon said, huffing, “I know you don’t care about the five-second rule. Merry Christmas Eve, dickhead.”
When everyone had fed, Nelson herded them into the paddock, and Devon made a few disgusting passes through the barn to remove the accumulated sheep shit into its pile, where it would stay until the spring, when nutty gardeners paid Devon big bucks to haul it away by the truckload.
Devon was just glad he didn’t have to deal with it all himself.
