Because after figuring out the problem, fixing it, and recovering from the fixing, my parents weren’t open to letting me take any chances.
They still weren’t. Which was why they thought I pushed papers for an insurance company and went to a lot of trainings. White lies kept the peace and let me live my life.
“Does Knox know any of this?” Nash asked, his voice a low rumble against my ear.
I frowned. “No. Why would he?”
“Seein’ as you two have been friends for knockin’ on two decades, I would have thought you’d share some stories.”
“Uh, have you met your brother? Knox isn’t the talk-about-anything type. And judging from the way you’re pretending to be just fine right now, I’m guessing you’re not much of an open book yourself.”
“It’s the Morgan way. Why shine the light on things when you can pretend they don’t exist?”
“I’m all for that. Keeps things simple. But just so you know, that’s probably something you should work on before you catch yourself a wife.”
“Good to know.”
I sat up and slid out from under his arm. “It’s unsolicited advice time.”
“Who invited Mrs. Tweedy over?” he quipped.
“Ha. It’s your life and none of my business, but do yourself a favor. Instead of using up your energy trying to hide this from everyone, maybe try working your way through it. Both ways take a hell of a lot of energy, but only one of them gets you through to the other side.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
I gave his thigh another friendly pat. “I’m going to go home and you’re going to go to bed. And when I say bed, I mean you’re going to sleep in your bed under the covers. Not out here on the couch with the TV on.”
I felt the weight of his gaze, the hot caress of his need as if they were physical sensations.
“I’ll do all that on one condition,” he said.
“What?”
“You stay the night.”
THIRTEEN
BED BUDDIES
Lina
Okay, even “daredevil, throw caution to the wind” me knew this was a terrible idea. I knew it just like I knew mozzarella sticks were bad for me. But just like mozzarella sticks, the temptation was real. “Nash, that’s not a good idea.”
“Hear me out,” he said, tightening his hold on my hand. “I’m too tired to make a move on you.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” I said dryly.
“Fair. How about this? Whenever you’re close, everything is better. The closer you are, the easier I breathe, the less I feel like life is just a never-ending pour of lemon juice into an open wound that won’t heal. You take away the dark, the cold. And you remind me what it’s like to want to be here.”
“Damn it, Nash! How am I supposed to be responsible and say no to that?”
That tired half smile was my undoing. I believed him. Because he was the kind of man who told the truth. And right now, he was telling it to me.
“I’m so fucking tired, Angel. I just want to close my eyes next to you. Can we worry about the consequences after?”
The man knew how to get to me in the best possible way.
“Fine. But no one is sleeping naked. There will be no sex or running of any bases. There will be no snuggling or cuddling or canoodling. And I’m not cooking you breakfast. Not because it’s a rule but because I don’t know what I’m doing in the kitchen and I’d end up poisoning you.”
“If you stay, breakfast is on me.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, considering. “One more thing.”
“Name your price.”
“We keep this between the two of us.”
Piper’s head popped up at my feet. Nash leaned over and gave her ears a half-hearted ruffle, and I swear I saw hearts appear in her little doggy eyes.
“My apologies. The three of us,” I amended.
“I agree to the terms. But if you want it notarized, we’re gonna have to bring Nancy Fetterheim in, and she’s not known for keepin’ secrets.”
“High-five?” I held up my hand.
That ghost of a smile got a little more pronounced. “You high-five to close deals?”
High fives were less intimate. There wasn’t a lingering pressing of palms, a knowing grip of fingers. It was easy, casual, and absolutely not sexy.
“Don’t leave me hanging, hotshot.”
He slapped my palm.
“Now that that’s settled, you’re going to shower and I’m going to go change.”
“Don’t go. Please. I’ll give you something to sleep in. Just…don’t leave.”
For a second, the facade of charming confidence disappeared and I caught another glimpse of the man beneath it all.
I sighed. I’d already brushed my teeth and performed my five-step skincare routine, so technically, I didn’t need anything from my place.
“I’m sorry for putting you in this position, Angelina. I get that it’s not fair. And I want you to know that under normal circumstances, I’d absolutely be trying to get you into my bed. But I’d be doin’ it with flowers and dinner and a different aim.”
“Are you always this honest?”
“No point in being otherwise,” he said, putting his hands into the cushion and slowly getting to his feet. Exhaustion was evident in the hunch of his shoulders.
I rose with him and slipped an arm around his waist. His arm fell heavily over my shoulders. He was too tired to hide the fact that he really did need to lean on me.
“Oh, so you’ve talked to your brother and Liza J about what’s going on?” I pried as we headed toward Very Bad Idea Town, a.k.a. his bedroom.
“There’s a difference between bein’ honest and keepin’ private matters private.”
I was glad to hear him say that. For me, of course. Not for him, because obviously he should be truthful with the people who cared about him. My situation was entirely different.
“I’m not here to tell you what to do. You’re a big boy. You know what’s best for you.”
He paused at the dresser and opened a drawer. It was full of neatly folded shirts. “Long sleeve or short?”
“Short.” Truth be told, I preferred to sleep naked. But this wasn’t the kind of situation in which to divulge that information.
Nash handed me a soft gray T-shirt that said Knockemout Book or Treat 2015.
“Thanks,” I said.
I’d been in this man’s clothes twice in the past three days. I’d flirted with him, fought with him. I’d done him a favor and had his back when he needed me. Now I was about to climb into bed with him. Things seemed to be accelerating awfully fast, even for me.
“You can take the bathroom first,” he said solicitously.
“Thanks, bed buddy.”
“Bed buddy?” I mouthed in the mirror after I closed the door between us. What was wrong with me?
I did my final bathroom break business, then stripped out of my clothes. His T-shirt hit me at midthigh, but the fact that I wasn’t wearing underwear made the ensemble feel less modest and more risqué. I would just have to not flail around in bed like I usually did to keep the hemline in place. I probably wouldn’t sleep anyway. Being fiercely independent was only one of the reasons I didn’t usually let men spend the night. I was a light sleeper, which meant any noise or movement that happened within a hundred-foot radius woke me up.