Page 51 of Colton's Secret Weapon
He wanted to tell her no. To put her on the spot and ask her if she’d brought any. Somehow getting to a place where, if she hadn’t brought any, there couldn’t be any activity that would require a need of them. But couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.”
She nodded.
He started to get hard. And blurted, “But I’m tired, Dove. And so are you. We have no idea what tomorrow is going to bring, or even if we’ll be woken up with an emergency in the night…”
Turning off the water, she turned around, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel she’d pulled from the oven door. “I know,” she told him. Then looked him in the eye and said, “But I got your mind on something besides death and grief there for a second.”
It wasn’t a question.
Didn’t require an answer.
And he didn’t give her one.
Instead, he stood there with a brand-new awareness of what sex could do…
If someone was in need of relief from the demons that seemed to be hunting them.
Or her.
Dove didn’t look at the room. Much. Enough to get her bearings. To know what would be causing any shadows lurking when darkness fell completely. There were no curtains on the two big windows overlooking—from what she could see—a whole lot of nature and nothing else.
With the quilt from her bed downstairs hanging over her shoulder, and a bottle of lavender clutched in her palm—just in case she needed a quick inhale that wouldn’t suffuse the other occupant in the room with the scent—she was ready for bed.
Mitchell had already been up to thoroughly check the second floor. He’d said he’d be a few minutes, giving her time to get settled. He’d had something to do in his office. More like he was avoiding them going to bed together.
He could try to prevent any further closeness from happening between them. She knew they were already as close as any two humans could ever get.
Physical stuff was momentary. Or, in some cases, lifelong, but in one life only. Soul couplings were forever. In the pajamas she’d had on that morning, she quickly arranged her quilt on top of the spread on the left side of Mitchell’s king-size bed. Left was farthest from the door, and the nightstand on the right had his phone charger on it. Pulling her own phone out of her pocket, she grabbed the charging cord from the elastic waistband of her pants, plugged it in, connected the device and was…done. Ready for bed.
Except that she wasn’t. At all.
She needed to be. She’d only had those few hours of sleep the night before. Fear had much greater opportunity to invade her system when she was tired. And she’d be up at dawn. It was just a thing. Dawn came, she woke up. Nature telling her good morning. A gift she welcomed.
The reminder got her butt to the bed, under the covers. She’d left on the light in Mitchell’s adjoining bathroom, having completed her own ablutions downstairs. Turning to face the wall across from her side of the bed, she closed her eyes. And when her mind reacted to the darkness with a vision of her father’s lifeless body lying helplessly in a hospital bed, she immediately opened them again.
To reset. Focus. The threes. Three things for which to be grateful. Three things about which she’d been critical replaced by three positive thoughts. Three people other than herself.
Starting with the last, because thinking about others was the best way to stop magnifying her own circumstances and to build her heart cells. Hetty. First, she and Spence had finally been able to see what had been obvious for a long time. They belonged together. Second, her bullet wound was almost completelyhealed with no permanent damage. She’d be returning to yoga classes soon, but…stop…that was about Dove, too, so probably shouldn’t…stop. No criticism of any kind allowed in the sacred moments. Wasn’t that criticism? To criticize the thought she’d just had?
And why was self-affirmation wrong? It wasn’t. Maybe there should be more than three? Should there be a fourth? Self-affirmation?
Maybe. But not when thinking of others. Stick to the plan. It’s there for a reason. It’s healthy. Scientifically proven. Not that science had to matter in the larger, nonearthly scheme of things. But they mattered to Mitchell.
Mitchell. He was another. No. Wait. She hadn’t done Hetty’s third yet. Third. Troy was coming home! That was good for Hetty and Lakin. Double dose of good.
Lakin. Mitchell’s sister. His bed. He would be coming up soon. Getting into bed with her. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about Mitchell.
Back to the threes. Stick to the threes. And no Mitchell. For the moment, anyway. If she saidno Mitchell, that fostered negativity. And she most definitely did not want… Okay, Mitchell. Three things. He’d been sent to her for her good, but for his own, too. She hadn’t quite worked it all out. But she knew. Caroline. Her heart flooded with all-consuming emotion again, just remembering Mitchell saying the word. Second, he’d been able to help his friend’s son, Kirk. Which helped his friend, too, which could be a third, but no, she’d lump those two together. Third, he had condoms.
Quick, who else? Her dad. He’d been found alive. Second, with the new initiatives being discussed, his business was going to rebound. Third…
He just missed her mother so much. It was like she was calling him to her every single day. Or like he thought she was. Love was meant to uplift. To strengthen. Not be a downfall.
Maybe not her father. Okay, who else?
Footsteps on the stairs. No matter how she tried to get herself into an unconscious state, Dove was fully present as she listened to the creaks on the stairs, telling her that Mitchell was entering her space.
His space, too. First. Most. Condoms there.
