Page 67 of The Bodyguard

The tiniest flicker of a smile. “I have to hang my feet off the end.”

It had occurred to me that there was a good chance this room would have only one bed.

But here we were.

“I’ll take the floor,” I said.

Jack tilted his head like it hadn’t occurred to him that anyone might take the floor. “You can sleep in the bed,” he said, and, at first, I thought he was letting me have it—before he added, “I’ll share.”

I gave him a look. “It’s fine.”

“You realize that’s a ceramic-tile floor?”

“I’ll make it work.” It was certainly better than my closet.

“I get it if you’re uncomfortable, but I promise I won’t touch you.”

I didn’t want to admit I was uncomfortable. That was need-to-know information.

I gestured at him, like Look at yourself. “We wouldn’t both even fit in that bed, dude.”

Now an actual, wry smile, and I felt glad to have led us to a less painful topic. “I’ve squeezed girls into it before,” Jack said.

“I prefer the floor,” I said, to settle it.

“There’s no way I’m making you sleep on the floor.”

“There’s no way I’m sleeping in your bed.”

“Let’s not be fussy.”

“I think I’m being remarkably unfussy, actually.”

He thought about that. “Yes. You are. Thank you.”

I hadn’t expected to be thanked.

“But,” he went on, “you still get the bed.”

“I really don’t want it,” I said.

“Neither do I.”

“Fine. We’ll both sleep on the floor.”

Jack studied me like I was odd. “Are you saying that even if I sleep on the floor, you’ll also sleep on the floor?”

This might be my only area of autonomy for a month. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be on the floor no matter what.”

“You’d rather sleep on cold, hard, ceramic tile than sleep next to me?”

“I bet you don’t get that a lot.”

Jack smiled like he was impressed. “Absolutely never.”

“It’s probably good for you,” I said.

Jack shrugged, like Maybe so. Then—and it’s possible a gentleman would have fought me a little harder—Jack said, “Suit yourself.”

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