OK if I stay over tonight?
Without hesitating, she sent back a yes. It would be a relief to have his company, even if they didn’t end up spooning on the couch again. The memory of waking up with him pressed to her back and his arm over her waist made her flush with heat. The phone chirped again.
Need to talk to Rob, then I’ll knock.
Her thumbs flew over the screen, and she sent the text without thinking about it too hard. If she allowed herself to dissect everything she sent to him, each text would take an hour of agonizing.
Great. I’ll be waiting.
*
It wasn’t very long before Chris knocked, but she’d still managed to doze off while she waited, sitting on the tile with her back against the door. Her body wasn’t very cooperative, and it took her a few tries before she could scramble to her feet and reach the unlock button.
Turning the doorknob, she pulled it toward her as she backed against the wall, letting the position of her body and the door block any sight of the outside world. She wasn’t going to start backsliding and locking the door again, but her tired brain had had enough shocks for the night…or day or whatever. She yawned so widely that her jaw cracked.
The knob was pulled gently from her grip as Chris stuck his head around the door. “You all right back here?”
Since she was in the middle of another yawn and couldn’t talk, she just nodded, making him laugh.
“Okay, sleepyhead.” He pushed the door closed and took her hand, tugging her away from her leaning position. “It’s bedtime.” When she resisted, not wanting to leave the support of the wall behind her, he grabbed her other hand and pulled. “C’mon. You look ready to fall over.”
That’s how she felt, too. With a groan that made him laugh again, Daisy peeled herself off the wall and allowed him to tow her toward the stairs.
“What’d the sheriff have to say?” she asked through yet another yawn.
“More of the same.” The amusement slipped from his expression as grimness replaced it.
“Sorry.” She squeezed his hands.
“Not your fault.” Shifting around behind her, he urged her up the steps with a hand on her lower back. “I’m just glad my days off start tomorrow so I have some time to try to figure this out. If I’d been sent on one more bullshit—sorry, Dais—call, there’s a good chance I would’ve punched Rob in the throat.”
“Not a good thing to do to your boss,” she mumbled, weaving a little as he steered her into her bedroom.
He gave a short laugh. “Not if I want to keep him as my boss, or if I want to stay in law enforcement instead of becoming a mall cop.” His hand fell away from her back as she turned to face him. “What’s that look?”
“I’m trying to picture you as a mall cop.” Shaking her head, she frowned. “Sorry. I just can’t see you in anything but this uniform.”
His grin was a little crooked. “Good thing I kept my fists to myself, then.”
Her response was interrupted by a yawn.
“Bed,” he ordered, pointing.
“Fine,” she grumbled, putting her phone on the nightstand before pulling her hoodie over her head. The tank underneath started to come along for the ride, and she grabbed it, tugging it to cover her belly again. The neck of the sweatshirt was narrow, and it caught around her face.
“Problems?” Along with amusement, Chris’s voice also held something deeper. When she answered with a bad-tempered grunt, he laughed, and then his hands were there, easing the hoodie off her head.
“I forgot how much I don’t like that sweatshirt.” She glared at it balefully as she tossed it over her desk chair. “It’s for laundry-day-only use.”
Without thinking anything except how tired she was, she shoved her yoga pants over her hips and let them drop to the floor. It took Chris’s harsh inhale for her exhausted brain to realize that she’d just stripped her lower half to her underwear in front of him.
“Sorry!” she yelped, diving for the bed. Her coordination was off, thanks to exhaustion and half-naked panic, so she tumbled onto the mattress in an ungraceful heap. As she tried to pry the top sheet out from underneath her, she babbled. “I don’t like to sleep in pants, since they tend to wrap around my legs if they’re loose, but I don’t like leggings, either, so that’s why I—what is wrong with this sheet?!”
“Lift up.” When she obeyed, he yanked the recalcitrant bedcovers back far enough for her to finally get her legs under them. Even with her bare lower limbs hidden, she still felt exposed, so Daisy pulled the covers up to her chin. Chris stood by the bed, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Sorry,” she said, a little more calmly now that she was buried in blankets. “I didn’t mean to flash you.”