Page 88 of Truck Stop Tempest

“Can I join you?”

“Fuck, yeah.” He jogged up two steps. Stopped. Turned to look at me. “Hell, yes.” Two more steps, he shouted over his shoulder, “Yes.” He reached the landing. “I’ll be here at six.”

He disappeared, then came right back into view. Hands on hips, he ordered, “Lock the door.” Then he waited.

I retreated inside. Engaged the locks. Then fumbled for my phone and shot him a text.

Locked. G’nite.

My phone buzzed with a reply.

Nite, Bunny.

I waited for the roar of his engine and the crunch of his tires to reply.

I miss u, too.

I fell into bed early and slept like a baby.

I hadn’t slept more than two hours on and off since moving into the penthouse. Then again, I hadn’t slept a full night in twenty years. Only difference, really, was that now, a blue-eyed pixie kept me from dreamland rather than the red-eyed demons that’ve haunted me for years.

I fell out of bed at five. Arrived at Tuuli’s apartment at five-thirty. Waited in my car until five-forty-five. Banged on her door.

She opened seconds later with a mile-wide grin, a bouncy knot of hair on top of her head, and my fucking sweatshirt hanging to her knees. She was drowning in the thing. Hell, if the sight didn’t turn me on.

“Morning, Grim.” She rose on her toes, kissed my chin, then studied my face with a pout. “You sleep last night?”

“Yeah.” Not a bit.

Brows furrowed, she chastised, “You’re lying.”

Sleep wasn’t important. Time with my girl was life or death. “Doesn’t matter. You ready? We gotta go if we wanna catch that sunrise again.”

“Tito.” She dropped back on her heels and pulled me inside.

“Bunny. Run. Remember?”

“No.” She continued dragging me down the hall, then kicked the bedroom door open. The bed was unmade, and the room smelled of sweet, warm, vanilla-scented woman. I took a deep breath, eyeing the wrinkled sheets, picturing her naked on that pillow-top queen size. A fresh wave of energy warmed my weary muscles. Warmed other places, too.

Fuck. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at the mattress.

“I can’t.”

She grabbed my shoulders, turned me around, then pushed until my ass landed on the bed. “You can. You will.”

Bossy Tuuli was hot, fraying my already jagged nerves. No way in hell would I catch a wink of sleep. But I liked her determination. She wore it well.

“You need sleep.” She grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged, trying to pull the damn thing over my head. “You’ve got stacks of bags under your eyes.”

“I’m fine,” I said, putting zero effort into my argument, raising my arms to help.

“You’re not.” My tee flew across the room. “Fifteen minutes. Just give it fifteen minutes. A power nap. Then, we’ll go chase the sunrise.”

I had no intention of winning the argument. But still, I played along. “On one condition.”

An eye roll. “What?”

---