Although the extra space does nothing to contain her nighttime sprawl. So not everything’s changed.
I can’t help the dopey smile on my face as I reach down and pull a matted strand of hair away from her cheek. She’s flopped on her stomach this time, one arm outstretched to the side, the other curled under her pillow. The sheet’s riding low on her body, and it would take only the slightest tug to expose her ass to the cool early morning air.
A gentleman would pull it back up again. A gentleman would tuck the covers around her chin with a note beside her telling her that there’s coffee ready.
I am not a gentleman.
I tug the sheet down just slightly and give her a smack on the butt. Just light enough to keep it playful, but with enough pep to have her eyes flying open.
“What the…are you serious?” she says groggily, reaching down and pulling the blankets up around her. I tug them right back down again.
“Get your gear on, Goldilocks.”
She grunts and sticks out a hand to pat mine. “You having another boot camp dream, sweetie?”
I can’t help it. I grin a little at the nickname, even though it’s cheesy as hell.
“It’s time for our run.” I reach over and turn on the light.
She rolls onto her back and flops both arms over her head. The position does interesting things to her bare chest, but I refuse to be distracted.
Which I deserve a medal for.
“You know you’ve been an ass these past two weeks, right?” she says, not looking at me. “Ignoring me altogether, locking me out of every room like a bratty six-year-old…”
I feel a twinge of guilt. Well-deserved guilt. “I know, I—”
She lifts an elbow and stares at me with one eye. “I’m not done. I was going to say that there was a silver lining to your bad behavior, in that there was none of this predawn running nonsense.”
I hook a finger into the pile of clothes next to me, dangling a sports bra in front of her face. “I got all of your stuff ready. Pink.”
The green eye narrows. “My pink shoes too?”
“God, no. I told you, you’ll injure yourself with the wrong shoes.”
“But they’re so cute,” she mutters, the elbow slipping back down to cover her eyes again.
Losing patience, I wrap one arm around her waist, jerking her toward the side of the bed, and then lifting her to her feet with both hands.
She glares at me. A morning sprite, my Olivia is not.
My Olivia.
I ignore the faint sound of warning bells at how right that thought feels.
I bend down to kiss her nose. “I want to show you something.”
Her eyes go dark and she reaches for me. “Oh yeah?”
I laugh and grab her wrists. “Not that something. We have to go outside.”
She opens her mouth to protest, and I squeeze her fingers, just a little urgently. “Please,” I say. “It’s important.”
Curiosity slowly replaces her sleepy resentment, and she reaches out a hand for the pile of running clothes I already retrieved from her room.
“This better be good, Langdon.”
It’s darker than ever outside, but it’s cold and clear and perfect.
She trots down the steps behind me as we walk toward the trail, the way we have dozens of times before. If she notices that I don’t have my cane, she doesn’t say anything. I’ve been going without it for weeks now, but she’s never seen me on one of our morning walk/runs without it.
“This better not be some weird new species of bug or a bird’s nest on the trail,” she mutters. “I can’t get excited about that stuff even on normal days, and on a morning when I’ve gotten two hours of sleep…”
I start to remind her that her lack of sleep is for a good reason. Several good reasons, I mentally amend as I remember just how creative we got last night. Instead, I place my hand over her mouth to stop her cranky rambling. “Shut it. Just hush and watch me for a sec.”
Slowly I remove my hand, gratified to see that she’s finally quiet.
And damn it…my heart is hammering. How did I not realize how hard this would be?