To calm his asshole brain enough for sleep, he tried everything else he could think of, but reading fanfic didn’t work. Writing fanfic didn’t work. Using his home gym didn’t work. Masturbating didn’t work. Even watching GBBO didn’t work, which was genuinely painful to acknowledge.
After another week, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
Just after two in the morning, he got up and got dressed. Once downstairs, he deactivated the alarm Lauren had nagged him to set for the night—Your safety is important too, you know, blah blah blah—and opened the front door, locking it behind him.
He tried not to make any noise as he walked to the edge of the property, but the damn motion-sensor lights kept illuminating along his path. Stopping for a moment, he squinted in the sudden brightness and waited for his eyes to adjust.
Then the lights above the guesthouse’s entrance flickered to life as well, and the door opened, fuck it all, and Lauren poked her head around the wooden slab. “Where in the world are you going at this time of night, Alex? Are you okay?”
He could pinpoint the exact moment worry turned to annoyance.
She stepped onto the stone path in front of her door, her feet bare, her fists on her hips. “For that matter, where are you going without me? Because you promised I would accompany you any time you left the property, and you seem to be headed toward the side gate. I.e., off the property.”
Her eyes were puffy with sleep, and she was squinting against the glare too. Her hair was rumpled, one strand sticking straight out above her ear. She wore a nightgown that was essentially an oversized tee, so faded the color was no longer obvious, so big the exact shape of her body was a mystery.
Somewhere over the past three weeks, though, he’d apparently pieced together enough clues to make a good guess. And now he had a much better idea of what her lower thighs looked like, so that was another bit of the mystery unraveled.
Not that he cared about solving that particular case. He was just naturally curious.
Her legs might be comparatively skinny for her frame, but they still looked round and soft. Sticking out from under that inadequate nightgown, they were … vulnerable. So were her feet.
“If you’re stepping outside, you need to put on some damn shoes, woman.” He scowled at her. “Even toddlers know that.”
She didn’t budge. “Don’t change the subject, Woodroe.”
“I have trouble sleeping. Long walks help.” He jerked his chin toward the guesthouse. “I hereby promise not to participate in any joyful revelry that might occur along my path. Go back to bed.”
Her eyes closed, and she took a breath. Two.
“Okay. Okay.” She held up her hand to stay him, small palm out. “Just give me a minute to get dressed, and I’ll join you.”
He glared at her. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s my job.” She disappeared inside, only to emerge a couple of minutes later, clad in her BIG HARPY ENERGY tee, leggings, and sneakers. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Her soft chin was set, her posture resolute. After almost a month together, he knew she wasn’t going to be swayed from her decision, no matter how tired she might be. And while he’d tried his best not to disturb her rest, he couldn’t say he didn’t welcome her company.
Still, he had to point out the obvious. “With your Smurf legs, I’ll have to walk in slo-mo up and down the stairs. They’re literally twice your height.”
“Without having seen them, I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing that’s literally not true.” Her cheek was still creased from her pillow, and he kind of wanted to trace the lines. “Unless each step is ten feet tall.”
He scanned her up and down, then raised a brow. “Ten feet? Really?”
“Fine.” Oh, that scowl. It looked good on her. “Nine feet, ten inches.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly.
Heaving a gusty sigh, she locked the door behind her and set the alarm, then handed him her keys, phone, and ID. “I don’t have a pocket.”
“Is this my life now? Am I a mere pack mule?” Mournfully, he shook his head as he deposited everything in the left pocket of his track pants. “I imagine you’ll expect me to carry you up and down the steps too. Which, again, will tower over you like monoliths, but I shall persevere. Perhaps I can rig up a pulley system of some sort.”
Her jaw was making an odd, grinding sound. “I don’t believe that will be necessary.”