And strong. “You’re cute when I’m all loopy.”
Cullen laughed. The deep sound was the best medicine of all. “Where are your pajamas?”
“In my suitcase.”
“Sit.”
She sat on the bed while he opened her suitcase.
He removed a floral-print nightshirt. “This work?”
“Yes.”
Cullen placed the nightie on the bed. He pulled on her bra band through her T-shirt. The strap unhooked.
Heat rushed up her neck. “You’ve, um, always been good at that.”
“A little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike.”
Her pulse quickened. “I haven’t ridden in a while.”
Too long. She missed it. Missed him. No, she missed the idea of him, of what they could have had together if fairy tales existed. This—what was happening right now—wasn’t real.
He brushed his hand over her hair. “You can always hop back on.”
Sarah’s mouth went dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Let’s get your shirt off you.”
Let’s not. She crossed her arm and her cast in front of her chest. “I want to see if I can do it.”
“Sure.”
She waited for him to turn around. He didn’t. Frustration grew. “Maybe you could face the other way.”
He turned to the wall.
Self-preservation helped her undress and put on the nightshirt. Thank goodness she’d taken the pain pills, or she’d be really hurting. “You can turn around.”
“I’m impressed.”
She was about to fall asleep. “Thanks.”
“Time for bed.”
Before Sarah could blink, she was horizontal with her head against the pillow. She had no idea how he’d managed to get her in this position so effortlessly, but she was beyond the point of caring.
Cullen arranged the sheet and comforter over her.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly.
He brushed his lips across her forehead with a kiss as light as a feather. “It’s been a long day, an even longer week. The least I can do is tuck you in.”
Emotion overflowed from her heart. She felt so special.
“Sweet dreams, Lavagirl,” he said.
Who needed dreams? Reality was pretty sweet right now. Sarah wanted him to stay, to hold her, until she fell asleep.
“Thank you, Dr. Gray.” She felt dreamy and a tad wistful. “For everything.”
“I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”
He turned off the light, walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
And then it hit her.
She and Cullen had never spent a night in the same place without sleeping in the same bed. Not until tonight. Her heart panged.
A door closed out in the hallway. She heard water. The shower.
Well, there was always a first time. Sarah touched the empty space next to her. But she had to admit she’d rather there wasn’t.
Even if she knew better.
SOMEONE COUGHED. CULLEN bolted upright from a dead sleep. He blinked, not quite sure what was going on. Rays of sunlight peeked into the room around the edges of the window blinds. The digital clock on his nightstand read 6:45 a.m. Another cough.
Sarah.
Pulse pounding, he jumped out of bed, ran to her room and flung open the door. She lay in bed. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her face, what he could see through her hair, was pale. “Sarah?”
“I coughed.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “It hurt.”
“I’m sure it did.” He sat next to her. “Let me check your incision.”
Her eyes widened with a hint of panic. “It was the cough.”
He brushed the hair away from her face. His fingers touched her cheek. She didn’t feel warm. “I want to make sure.”
She pulled the blanket to her neck. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” He understood Sarah’s leeriness. In spite of being a little out of it last night, she must have realized he’d been turned on. Even after a cold shower, he’d wanted to sleep in here, to hold her, to breathe in her scent. Loneliness did strange things to a man. “If you were in a SNF, someone would check you.”
“Yes, but not…”
“Me.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Her fingers rubbed the edge of the blanket. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s the situation. I’m not sure how to feel around you. Parts of last night were nice, then awkward, then nice again. So nice I hated sleeping alone.”
A combination of relief and satisfaction radiated through him. He’d thought the same thing. He touched her shoulder.
Her muscles tensed beneath his hand.
“I get it,” he admitted. “Having you here is…”
“Weird.”
“Different,” he said at the same time. “A little weird, too.”
She blew out a puff of air. “Good. I mean, not that things are weird, but that I’m not alone or imagining things.”
“You’re not alone.” He’d been imagining things about her all night. Unfortunately. Because those fantasies would never become reality. “We’re adults. We can handle this.”
“It’s not like we have another choice.”
If only…“It is what it is until you’re ready to go back to Bellingham.”
“If things get too weird we can talk it out.”
She
