“Gonna try and wash off your attraction to me?” Lachlan called after me. “Good luck in there.”
I clutched my cosmetics bag. “Iwasgoing to apologize for the mean things I said to you, you know what? Never mind.”
“I don’t need your apology.”
“Fabulous. Because you’re not getting one.” I all but floated to the bathroom on a cloud of fury, only to turn back in the doorway. “And by the way the thermostat seems to be broken, and if you could fix it, that would be great. Thank you.”
I took my time showering, monopolizing the bathroom for as long as possible. By the time I stepped out, a fog covered the mirror, my skin looked pruned, and I’d steamed every porous surface in the room. Even the tissue hung limp in its box. I wanted so badly to call my sisters and get their advice. How did I handle a husband? Kiss him? Strangle him? It was a toss-up.
When I’d checked every text, outlined Lachlan’sGood Morning Americaprep plan, and even taken an online quiz to determine which pizza best fit my personality, I opened the bathroom door and tiptoed back into the room, praying Lachlan was asleep.
He was not.
Lachlan, of the unbuttoned shirt, grabbed a pillow from the bed, tossed it on the floor, then ransacked the closet until he found a thin blanket.
“What are you doing?” Hadn’t we already settled the sleeping arrangements?
He threw the blanket on top of the pillow. “That couch is made for toddlers. I’ll sleep on the floor, but if you step on me in the middle of the night, I’ll know you did it on purpose.”
He wouldn’t sleep a wink down there. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s cold and hard and…”
“And?”
“And we’re two adults who can share a bed.” My anger would keep us warm.
He slipped his wallet from his back pocket and placed it on the dresser. “I’m worried you’re going to smother me with a pillow in my sleep.”
“Not tonight,” I countered. “I’ll wait until I’m not the one and only suspect available.”
One eyebrow cocked. “What if you try to put the moves on me?”
“You wish.” My cheeks warm, I regretfully took off my fluffy leopard robe and laid it at the end of the bed. “I’ll put a wall of pillows between us if you think that will protect your virtue.” When no zippy retort came my way, I glanced at Lachlan to find him staring at me in wide-eyed bewilderment.
“What is that?” He pointed toward me, the action revealing even more man chest as his shirt pulled away.
My mind struggled to form any words besideshot husbandandmy hands would like to meet your pectorals.
I cleared my throat and tugged my long sleeve to my wrist. “Are you referring to what I’m wearing?”
“Yes…What is it?”
“It’s a nightgown.”
“From your great-grandma’s collection?” With a grin that made me immediately regret ever asking Sylvie for help, Lachlan inspected my flannel-clad self from the tips of my toes to the ruffle around my neck.
My hands went to my collar, where my fingers twined in a ribbon. Why couldn’t Sylvie have grabbed my cute matching pajama sets? “It’s my gown.”
“From when you lived in a little house on a prairie?” Lachlan abandoned his pallet in the floor and walked toward me on bare feet.
I retreated one step, then bumped against the desk. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, if it was 1820.” He pointed to the collar that came to my throat. “Are you so afraid to show skin, you think the sight of your neck will push me over the edge?”
“I’m cold natured, for your information, and hotels are always frigid. Like ours.”
