Page 11 of Lonely Beard
“My austere sofa?” He turns to face me at last, humor flickering through those green eyes, but it doesn’t last. “No, you won’t be comfortable. And I don’t mind the floor.”
Neither do I, damn it. I don’t care where I freaking sleep, I just want this horrible tension between us to be gone. I want to be able to swallow without this stupid lump in my throat, and I want Aiden to look at me again like he did before we tumbled into each other’s arms.
Softly. Like he was glad I was here.
“You could join me in the bed?” I rasp, because apparently my bruised heart can’t take a hint.
Aiden shakes his head, and I squeeze my arms tighter around my shins. Like I could crumple myself into a tiny ball and escape these sickly feelings.
“Go ahead.” He nods at the bed in the corner. The soft-looking, freshly laundered bed. The one I declaredvery invitingnot so long ago. “I’ll wake you at first light.”
Yeah. To get me out of here as soon as possible.
I push upright, swaying on my feet.
* * *
Can’t sleep. It’s not really a surprise, what with the last remnants of the storm moaning outside, and the unfamiliar bed, and the cold stranger lying with his arms folded on his chest by the fire. I toss and turn for a long time, huffing and puffing into Aiden’s pillow, before finally giving up and swinging my feet onto the floor.
His breaths are coming slow and steady. Even in his sleep, his poor throat sounds sore. When I kissed his neck earlier, I felt the rigid line of a scar beneath his beard. What happened to him?
Guess I’ll never have a chance to ask.
Shivering against the cool air, I tiptoe across Aiden’s cabin, lips pressed in a firm line. I’m still dressed in his green sweater, the fabric swamping my body, and I’m grateful for it as I peel the front door open and slip out onto the deck.
Cold.That’s what hits me first: a wall of frosty air, slapping my cheeks awake and delving between the strands of my mussed hair, then seeping through the tiny pores of my sweater. It’s like sliding into a tub of icy bathwater. I shiver, wrapping my arms around my waist, but I don’t really mind. It’s refreshing.
Dawn’s not here yet, but it can’t be far off, because the first stars are winking out and there’s a pale line of light on the horizon. All around Aiden’s cabin, broken tree branches are strewn like confetti, and streams of rainwater course down the dirt driveway.
My rental car is where I left it, painted metal gleaming under the moonlight.
For a hot second, I think about sneaking back inside and grabbing my clothes. Or maybe not even doing that—maybe tugging off my borrowed socks and running across the wet dirt barefoot, then piling into the car, stolen sweater and all. I left the key in the ignition. There’s a tiny chance it might work.
Then I could roll out of here and never feel this clammy despair ever again. Never see those moss green eyes, hard with indifference.
Tempting. Very tempting.
But I guess I’ll never know whether my great escape would’ve worked, because the cabin door swings open behind me and a shaft of golden light spills over the deck.
Aiden’s footsteps are quiet. He must know all the creakiest floorboards by heart.
“How’s it looking?” he asks.
I wave an arm at the wreckage surrounding his cabin. “Messy. Guess mountain storms are like that.”
Aiden grunts. “Guess so.”
We stand in awkward silence for a minute. Then two. Every second that falls away, my stomach twists tighter until I can’t stand it for another moment.
“Well, then.” Ugh, I’ve got my Little Miss Professional voice back on, but I don’t know how to stop it. Sometimes I want to slap myself. “Better head back into the warm.”
Aiden steps aside and lets me through, one arm stretched over my head in the doorway, and if I suck in a hungry breath of him as I pass…
I know, I know. It’s pathetic.
But hey. I’m only human.
Six
