He frowns. “It’s the only bed here. This is a one-bedroom apartment.”
“Oh my gosh.” My cheeks are volcanic. I look to the bed—that’s unmade. There’s still the indent of my head on the pillow, and allthe covers are rumpled from where I tossed and turned during my nap.
I slept in Holland’s bed.
I drooled on Holland’s pillow.
The number of professional lines I’ve crossed today is too many to count.
“It’s not a big deal, Mal. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to sleep on the couch. This is not going to be an only-one-bed situation.” He winks at me.
My mouth falls open, and I point at him. “Youarea romance reader!”
He clicks his tongue. “I’ll never tell.”
He walks past me on the way out of the bedroom, and I catch another whiff of him.Howdoes he smell so good? “Make yourself comfortable. We should be up and out of here early tomorrow morning, though. Daisy said she’d help us sneak you back in to the inn.”
I nod, because what else can I do?
Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep tonight, knowing I’m in Holland’s room, with the scent of fresh grass lingering all around me.
“Thank you…for everything today,” I say weakly as he turns to leave.
“It’s nothing.” He pauses and glances back at me. “I’m glad I could be here for you.”
We stare at each other for a long moment. It feels like something shifts between us, and whatever it is throws me off balance. I’m drenched with dismay because I can’t deny how much I’ve enjoyed talking to Holland. It’s going to be difficult to lie to myself and keep him in the box I’ve always kept him in. Not when he showed me some of his heart. Not when he proved himself caring and sweet. My lungs are sapped of air. I need to retreat. Starting tomorrow, the walls separating Holland and me are going back up. I vow it to myself then and there, even as I swearHolland is looking at me like he’d like nothing more than to cuddle up next to me in his bed and continue our conversation. I shake my head slightly. He probably wants his bed. Who wouldn’t? It’s a comfortable mattress.
“I can sleep on the couch,” I blurt.
He frowns. “Absolutely not. You need your rest.”
“So do you!” I protest. “The Grand Masters—“
“Mal, chill. I’ll be fine. It’s a comfy couch. Besides, all your germs are all over my sheets.” He makes a face, and I splutter out a laugh.
He smiles a genuine smile, and the sight of it holds me in place, arresting my lungs and forcing me to break eye contact.
“Fine,” I croak. “But only because I don’t want to get you sick.”
“Good.” He chuckles softly. “Goodnight, Mallory. Sweet dreams.”
He closes the door with a quiet snick, and I hurry to put myself to bed, but then I lie there, eyes wide open. I’m terrified that I’ve lost all control of my mind and, more dangerously, my heart, and that when I fall asleep, the only thing I’ll be dreaming about is Holland.
20
Lap Dancing Around Our Feelings
Holland
Iwake up to the sound of a cupboard door banging shut, followed by a muttered curse. I sit up slowly on the couch and peer into my kitchen. Mallory is standing there, wearing yesterday’s clothes and a grimace.
“Sorry,” she says, sucking in a quick breath when she notices me. “I was trying not to wake you.”
I scrub my hands over my face and grab my phone off the coffee table, checking the time. “It’s fine. We have to get going anyway.”
She nods and gestures to my coffee maker. “I started coffee. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s great. I’m going to shower quick, and then we’ll go. Do you need anything?”
