In response, Carlise turned her head and inhaled deeply. He smelled like smoke and man, with a hint of laundry detergent. “No,” she said with a small sigh.
She thought she felt Riggs sniff her hair, but she had to be mistaken. “You’re tired,” he said after a moment. “You should sleep.”
Carlise yawned. “But it’s not even noon yet.”
“So? You’ve had a hard few days.”
“So have you.”
“We can both nap then.”
“Okay.” Carlise started to get up, but Riggs’s arms tightened around her.
“Stay. I’m comfortable,” he said.
Carlise leaned her head back and looked up at him. “I’m not too heavy?”
“No.”
“We’re strangers.”
“No we aren’t,” he said without hesitation. “You do not feel like a stranger to me. Not in any way, shape, or form. But if I’m making you uncomfortable . . .” His voice trailed off.
Carlise immediately shook her head. “No. You feel good. Warm.”
“I remember this,” he said quietly, after she’d put her head back down on his chest.
“What?”
“Holding you. It feels familiar. Right.”
He wasn’t wrong. Carlise sighed again in contentment.
Susie would tell her she was acting way too impulsively and would warn her to be careful, not to let her heart overpower her head. Her mom would probably sigh wistfully and say it was a sign that she and Riggs were meant to be. The truth was probably somewhere between the two opinions.
But at the moment, Carlise couldn’t muster up the energy to think on it further. To suggest that Riggs should nap on his bed while she took the couch. She felt too comfortable right where she was. So she threw caution to the wind and snuggled even closer to the man under her. His arms tightened for a moment, and she felt him lift the blanket she’d been using over her shoulders, covering both of them.
“Sleep, Carlise.”
She could’ve sworn she felt him kiss her temple, but she had to be imagining the tender touch. Before she could dwell on it, her eyes closed, and she was out.
Chapter Six
Chappy puttered around the kitchen, preparing a hearty dinner for himself and his guest. He’d browned some ground beef, added taco seasoning and Ro-Tel tomatoes, and had just dumped some noodles into a second pot. The cheesy taco noodle dish was a favorite of his, and he was sure Carlise would enjoy the warm meal. He hated that she’d been eating PB&J sandwiches for three days, but her no-nonsense attitude about the situation she’d found herself in only increased his admiration for her.
She was still sleeping soundly on his couch. Her blonde hair was in disarray, and she looked exhausted. He’d woken up about an hour after they’d dozed off and couldn’t get back to sleep. He’d been resting for three days, and his body was telling him it was more than enough. So he’d slipped out from under her . . . then simply watched her for an embarrassingly long time.
When he finally tore himself away, he visited the bathroom, read a little, checked on Baxter, made himself a snack . . . and still Carlise slept. Chappy knew he should probably wake her, otherwise she might not sleep through the night, but he didn’t have the heart. She was clearly exhausted from the stress of looking after him for days.
But also from whatever had chased her out of Cleveland. All the way to his out-of-the-way cabin in the first place.
She’d said enough for him to assume her ex—possibly the one who’d hurt her—was causing her problems. He could only further assume she was running from the asshole . . . which was infuriating. Chappy hated to think about anyone hurting Carlise.
While the noodles boiled, he went outside and started the generator so he could check his cameras. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; he didn’t think for a minute that she’d searched through his cabin for valuables she could steal. He was more curious about what he’d said in his delirium.
His friends told him he was paranoid, that having cameras inside his cabin as well as outside was going too far. But Chappy didn’t care. After being kidnapped and tortured, he needed the reassurance the cameras gave him that all was right in the cabin when he wasn’t there.
There were two tiny cameras set up on opposite ends of the main space, allowing him to see everything that went on. They were connected to an app on his cell phone, which luckily still had enough charge for him to download. He also had satellite internet at the cabin that worked when the generator was on, allowing him to get texts and emails. It was often unreliable, especially during high winds or any sort of weather event. He’d been meaning to install a booster, a better antenna, but hadn’t done so before the snowstorm hit.