“I’m fine,” I finally say. “You just legit scared the hell out of me. I thought everyone was asleep.”
He takes the seat beside me, raking a hand through his already-messy hair. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t sleep—no idea why—and decided to come down and grab a drink.”
“Well, I can’t sleep, and I know exactly why,” I murmur before taking a sip of water.
“The dogs are that bad, huh?”
“The little ones definitely snore, but so does Roxie,” I say wearily. “And Gunnar hopped onto my bed and wouldn’t move. I swear I was getting ready to freak out when I decided to just leave the room. I grabbed my laptop so I could maybe get some writing in until I’m so tired that I’ll fall asleep no matter what.”
“You want me to take Gunnar up with me? I don’t know if he’ll actually come, but we can try.”
How is this man actually real? He has a solution for almost everything and he’s freaking nice about it too. I’m not used to this kind of person even existing and it’s unnerving. Which is probably why I can’t seem to stop myself from looking at him.
All of him.
But that’s also how I notice that he’s looking at me too.
All of me.
Which is when I realize I’m wearing a short nightie with skimpy straps. It’s low cut and I’m flashing an awful lot of cleavage along with almost every inch of my legs because this tiny garment rode up as soon as I sat down. I had planned on putting my robe on when I got down here, but then he scared me and…
I see it on the floor.
I shiver and Sebastian sees the direction of my stare and jumps up to grab my robe, draping it over my shoulders. When he sits back down, his entire focus is on drinking his bottle of water, and I take the opportunity to slip my robe on and cover myself.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. So, uh…you’re going to write?”
I shrug because honestly, my brain isn’t that engaged. I was tired before my adrenaline spiked just now. “I’ll probably just end up scrolling on social media or reading random celebrity news. I haven’t hit the level of tiredness where I can tune out the snoring. I may need to order earplugs and have them delivered. What about you?”
“I don’t think earplugs are the solution for me,” he says with a wink. “But…yeah, I’m just not tired yet.”
“Are you typically a night owl?”
He shakes his head. “Do you want to go and sit on one of the couches? These chairs are wildly uncomfortable.”
“Sure.”
He grabs our drinks and I grab my laptop and pillow and we head over to the den, which is off the living room. It’s really just a smaller version of the living room with a sectional, an electric fireplace, and a TV. We each get comfortable, and he hands me my drink.
“To answer your question, no. I’m not typically a night owl. I don’t mind staying up late occasionally, but I’m normally asleep by one. I just felt restless tonight and couldn’t relax. It’s kind of wild how loud the ocean is. I think that was messing with me. I was going to watch some TV after I grabbed a drink.”
“Normally I’d read or watch TV until I can’t keep my eyes open, but that’s not going to happen up there. I know Roxie’s going to be devastated if I fall asleep down here because she’s going to know why.” I fall back against the cushions with a dramatic sigh. “Maybe when I order the earplugs, I should order some sort of sleep aid. If I drug myself enough and plug my ears, I should be able to sleep, right?”
He doesn’t say anything right away, but I can tell he’s already trying to come up with a solution.
Bless his heart.
“You might be able to block out the snoring, but there’s still Gunnar. I’m still more than willing to try to lure him up to my room, but I know Roxie’s really attached to having the three of them with her all the time.”
He’s got a point.
“Why don’t you take my room, and I’ll take the couch?” he suggests. “And before you say you can’t or you feel bad, let me assure you that I am fine with it. I’m an early riser and…” Pausing, he glances around the room. “I think this space can work for me.”
“Absolutely not. No way. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen,” I say emphatically. “You have a room with all your stuff in it, and you should sleep in it. Why should you have to suffer because of my problems?”
“I wouldn’t call it suffering and I could say the same for you—you know, about the room and all your stuff,” he fires back lightly, looking even more attractive than he did minutes ago. “And you don’t strike me as the sleeping-on-the-couch type.”
