One Week with the Marine (Love on Location)

He looked toward the closet, but before he made a move, she said, “I wouldn’t look in the closet unless you want to play a game I call ‘curling iron or vibrator.’ That game has no winners.”

His answer lay somewhere between a cough and a chuckle. Still he pressed on.

“I don’t see them.” He turned to leave, and she slammed the door shut and shoved a chair under the knob.

His footfalls rushed toward the door, but it was too late. She’d won.

No more weird intimacy. For tonight, at the very least, she had no more concerns.

Except maybe for the fact that he was pounding on the door, shouting her name. “Avery, what the hell?”

“I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we should share a bed this trip. You should get some rest and not have to deal with my sleep thrashing.”

“And you couldn’t tell me that?”

“So, you would have agreed to sleep in the bed and let me have the couch?” she asked, knowing the answer.

Silence.

“It’s for your own good,” she called back. “Good night.”

“You’ll pay for this,” he yelled back.

“Yeah, yeah. You and what army. In the meantime, get some sleep.” She stared at the couch and frowned. Rodrigo was curled in a little gray ball where she’d been sitting, and he mewled softly as he spread out some more.

“Looks like you’ll have company tonight, pal,” she told him. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought the cat glared back at her.

An animal after my own heart…

She sighed. She hadn’t brought out pillows or blankets. Tonight, it was just her and the bizarre oddity that was her newly cleaned living room. Whatever. She could deal.

Or so she’d thought. Who knew it got so cold at night in California? She thought Maryland had been bad, but with no blankets, life on the couch seemed pretty bleak.

Getting to sleep was a struggle. Between finding a position that Rodrigo didn’t object to and trying to clear her mind of the night she’d had, it was nearly impossible to find enough comfort to drift off. Those rare moments when she did were short-lived. First, the cat would scratch her in his sleep, then something in the apartment would make a weird noise, then she’d be sure Holden was at the door, trying to get ou

t again.

Or she’d simply wake up for no reason at all, with Holden at the forefront of her mind.

Rubbing her eyes, she clicked on her cell phone to show the time. In big blue characters, 4:02 a.m. flashed.

He was probably asleep.

She took a deep breath and rolled over, careful not to stir Rodrigo. It wasn’t like they’d never slept in the same bed before. Every time he’d come to visit, she’d slept in the bed with him, though usually it was more out of exhaustion than choice. By rights, this time shouldn’t have been any different.

She’d stay to her side, and he’d stay to his. It’d be like every other trip.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

Rolling from the sofa, she slid the chair away from the bedroom door and tiptoed into the room, careful to avoid tripping over random discarded shoes.

Holden was snoozing quietly on one side of the bed, looking almost laughable as he snuggled into her light purple comforter. She climbed in beside him, feeling the warmth of his body spread through their shared blanket as she found her old, familiar sleeping position.

She lifted her knee, careful to stay on her side of the bed, and clutched her pillow tight against her face and waited for sleep to wash over her at last.

Except…it didn’t. She just lay there, listening to Holden’s low snores as his broad shoulders raised and lowered over and over again. It should have been a lullaby unto itself, the sound of his gentle slumber, but instead it distracted her. Kept her awake.

After what felt like an hour, she sat up in the bed and stared around the dark room, trying to decide what to do next. She could make some warm milk. Go back to the couch. She could—