“What do you mean, ‘get me to sleep’?” He chuckled.
“I’ll lie down with you until you go out. I do that with Abbie all the time, when Jordan is working and she can’t fall asleep. Do you want a story? I could sing you a song?” I flirt-smirked—flirked—at him. I couldn’t help myself. But at least I didn’t add a jaunty wink—if I had jinked at him, we’d end up in his bed for sure and not to sleep . . . “If those don’t work, I’ll rub your head. Head rubbing has never failed with Abbie.”
“Very funny.” He shoved the tray with the pies in the oven, then reached up to grab a bowl hanging from the rack above, treating me to a glimpse of his abs and the glorious happy trail that led below them into his jeans.
I slammed my eyes shut. Because clearly, I couldn’t speak words that made sense and look at him at the same time. I knew my limits. “Do you doubt my skills? I’ll bet you right now that I can make you fall asleep tonight.” That’s right, I threw down, just like I used to do with him. Something about him had always felt like a dare—exciting and fun.
“Odds?” His deep voice rumbled with laughter. I opened my eyes.
Flexy pecs.
Bulgy arm porn.
Whipping cream by hand was no joke.
Ohmygod!
I quickly looked down at Stan, sweet, sweet Stan, before I answered. “The odds, my friend? The odds are that I’ll win, and you’ll take me to The Front Porch for steaks. Boom! Those are your odds, buttface.”
Wait, did I just ask him out to the fanciest date-night steak house in Green Valley?
Did I want to win? Or lose? Losing a bet went against everything I believed in as a human. But was winning losing in this case? Or was winning winning? What the hell had I just done? I got up and wandered into his living room shaking my head while he laughed at my ridiculous antics. I had to sit down in a place not quite so near him. He was the tequila tonight, and here I was, already drunk like a dumbass.
Choosing a denim-covered wing chair in the corner next to the fireplace, I took a load off. I was out of Garrett’s view over here, so I felt free to frown in consternation at will. Stan squirmed to get down when he heard the top pop on a can of kitty-cat food, so I released him to brood alone in my chair.
Soon the whistle of the teakettle broke my reverie and I stood up to make sure Garrett knew how to handle the tea. I refused to drink a bad cup; life was too short for that nonsense.
“Is this cute enough for you? My mother brought it over to use from some shop in Nashville. She’s not a coffee person either.”
I smiled at him and took the cup to examine its cuteness. “I know,” I informed him. “I discovered the joy of tea-drinking from her. We go to that shop in Nashville every year for her birthday and mine. Mother’s Day too, after she’s done with you boys. We drink tea and eat tiny sandwiches and talk about life.” His return smile was soft—another manly, indulgent one—but I didn’t want to get into the meaning of it, so I looked away.
“I made mini pies. They won’t take long to bake.”
“This is nice. You don’t look like a man who bakes.”
“What kind of man do I look like?” he laughed.
“The kind who . . . uh, does badass stuff. I dunno, ax throwing? Ride motorcycles on the Tail of the Dragon with the wind in your hair? Race cars at The Canyon like you used to do back in high school when you hero-worshipped Duane Winston? That’s not quite as badass, but his racing skills are legendary, so I don’t blame you. We all have our heroes.” I shrugged.
“You knew about that back then?” He seemed surprised.
“I did. Clara, Leo, and I watched all your races.” For some reason, this felt like a confession and not simply an innocuous statement about our not-so-innocent youthful activities.
“I wish I had known you were there,” he murmured. I had to read his lips to know what he said, he was so quiet.
“Why?” I asked. But did I really want to know the answer?
His soft eyes met mine and I couldn’t look away. “Don’t you know by now?” Did I?
Bing!
The timer on the oven went off and I stood up to get the kettle for our tea while Garrett grabbed potholders to get our pies out of the oven. He plated them and opened the fridge for the whipped cream. “We can sit on my deck out back. Take the kettle and I’ll get a tray for this stuff. Go switch on the lights and I’ll meet you outside.”
“Okay,” I whispered and turned to cross through the living area to do as he asked. I flicked the switch on the wall, then opened the heavy wooden door, laughing as I stepped outside. After placing the kettle on a tile-topped table, I spun in a slow circle to take in what had to be a thousand tiny lights strung across the top and down the posts of the covered deck to sparkle in the dark like tiny stars.
Holy crap. He was five for five tonight.
Chapter 8
Garrett
We drank the tea. We ate the pie. We did it in silence, but it was comfortable. Where I would normally feel compelled to talk, or flirt, or entertain, with her I could just relax. There were few people in my life who made me feel free to just be with. It had always been my family, her brothers, and her. Through all the time between us, I’d never had another friend like Molly.
“You ready for bed? Let’s do this thing.” She clapped her hands together and grinned. I chuckled when, yet again, she grew startled by one of the random forest sounds.
“You don’t have to do this. I’ve managed going to bed for years on my own, you know.”
“I know. But why should you? I know you think I’m being silly, but sleep is important. I don’t like the thought of you alone in the dark, staring at the ceiling. It makes me sad. We used to have sleepovers all the time, remember?”
“Uh, we were children, Molly.”
“Yeah, okay. You have a point about that, I guess.” She looked like she was trying to convince me of something—or maybe herself.
“You guess? It’s a good point,” I argued. “Sleeping in the same bed as adults is . . . well, it’s intimate. Don’t you think?”
“It can be. But it doesn’t have to. It can be just one friend helping another friend fall asleep. Then that friend gets up and drives home or maybe the friend sleeps on the couch because the thought of going outside alone into that dark forest full of murderers, rabid animals, probably aliens, cannibal witches, or other assorted spooky X-Files bad guys scares the holy ever-loving shit out of her and she doesn’t want to be alone in her car driving out of your dark-ass, haunted, horror movie excuse for a forest, okay, Garrett?” Her little tirade started off calm but ended up shrill and panicky in a hurry. Why did I find it so cute?
“Ah, I see now.” I grinned at her red cheeks and scowling mouth. I wanted to kiss that scowl off, but I refrained. Now wasn’t the time.
“You do not see anything!” An animal howled in the distance and she jumped. “Ahh!”
“Maybe you should stay here tonight. I don’t want to be responsible for you crashing into a tree on your way home if another animal makes a sound out there.” Suddenly the idea of having her in my bed felt comforting instead of sexual. The idea of holding her, keeping her from getting scared of the dark, then just innocently falling asleep beside her was impossible to resist.