Page 13 of All Snowed Gin

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“I’m not, I promise.”

Pierce nods, following my lead and slipping under the covers. I get comfortable, snuggling into the down pillows, my muscles relaxing. Damn, this feels good. I can feel myself starting to drift as Pierce turns out the light, and I try to let myself lean in to that feeling.

Except, there’s something missing.

I can’t name what it is. At least not at first. Slowly inhaling, the lavender now mixed with a musky, manly scent, I figure it out.

Pierce.

The feel of his hands on me when I launched myself at him earlier wasn’t enough. All it did was leave me craving more. Even with his surly demeanor. Actually, I think that might have only served to up the ante. Because that scowl on his face is oddly attractive.

There’s nothing I can do though. This is my side. That’s his. Pierce was very clear about that. Still, all it would take is me rolling over. The heat from his body is calling my name, and I know that the feel of his hard body pressed against mine would be the exact thing to lull me to sleep.

Because apparently I have lost my mind.

A stranger is what I need to lull me to sleep? Get real. I need to stop this. Need to count sheep or sing the ABCs or something. I need to get my mind off the fact that I’m sharing a bed with a man I only met a few hours ago. And not be the creepy weirdo who forces uninvited cuddles on him.

Because that’s one hundred percent a creepy weirdo thing to do.

Soft snores start up next to me, and I look over to find Pierce fast asleep. Damn, that was quick. Never would have seen that coming, especially since I was the one who yawned. I roll over, facing away from him, hoping that will do the trick.

No dice.

I lie there, wondering if maybe I should move to the couch. This was a bad idea. That’s why I can’t sleep. If I move out there, this won’t be a problem.

I’ve all but made up my mind, when a large, heavy arm snakes around me, drawing me close. I freeze, waiting for what happens next. But nothing does. Just more soft snores and Pierce’s body heat surrounding me, making me sleepy all over again.

There’s no fighting it. Not that I want to. Being curled up next to him feels natural, the sleep coming on faster now, tension flowing out of me. Snuggling into him more, I wonder if he knows what he did, or if he’s going to wake up and freak out.

But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

6

PIERCE

Lazily, I open my eyes, stretching out, enjoying the feel of my sheets. I’ve never understood what it is about your own bed that feels so damn good, but it’s undeniable. The gentle lavender scent from Gram’s favorite fabric softener is soothing, reaching down deep inside me. The ache from missing her and Gramps makes its way to the surface, settling around my heart. It didn’t have far to travel, the suppressed gnawing a new constant this last year.

Lou tells me that it’ll lessen with time, but I’m half convinced he’s full of shit. Having never lost anyone, he’s not exactly speaking from experience. Still, there is a part of me that hopes he’s right, because this is not something I want to live with.

The missing them or the guilt. Especially the guilt.

I roll over, trying to snuggle down farther into my pillow and fall back asleep. Judging by the light that’s coming through the slats of the window shades, I still have a little while before I need to be up for the opening bell. The days surrounding the end of year holidays are always a weird time for the stock market, most of the world a lot more concerned with priorities that aren’t what’s going on with Wall Street. Meaning, if I opted to skip today, no one would notice.

And by no one, I mean me. Since I’m my own boss now.

Something is off though. I suck in a deep breath, trying to place whatever this feeling is. This imbalance. Nothing is coming to me though. Maybe it’s just the holidays messing with me. That would make sense. I knew it would be a rough week and that no matter what I did, I’d be all up in my own head somehow. This was probably just the start of it.

Then, I hear the humming.

I bolt upright, my heart clamoring against my rib cage, trying to break free. The soft female voice, wafting through the air and making my skin tingle, has all of me on high alert. Mixed in with the humming is a gentle crackle, a sound any Southern boy would know—oil in the skillet. I inhale again, this time slower, letting my nostrils flare, the distinct smell filling them.

Breakfast.

I panic for a split second. Who the fuck is cooking breakfast? Then I remember—Rose. I look to my right, the crumpled sheets reminding me that we shared a bed. Oh fuck. How did I forget that? I race through the events of last night—her getting stuck, the feel of her against me on the snowmobile, the shape of her perfect breasts in that flimsy sleep shirt as she was eating her stew. Most importantly, her refusal to sleep on the couch.

Which, okay, I can understand. I guess. The thing is old and past its prime. Long past. I need to pitch it, but it’s one of many items in this house I can’t bear to get rid of. Too many good memories attached to it. Plus the reminder that I hadn’t gotten around to replacing it for the two most important people in my life before…yeah.