“Our heater is broken, by the way.”
“See.” I threw up a hand. “Who’s the weird one now?”
“Still you.” Lachlan’s grin was straight George Clooney circa 2007, with the twitching lips and eyes backlit by humor and the sheer burden of being gorgeous. “They can’t fix it until tomorrow, and there aren’t any more vacant rooms.”
“Great. That means I’ll be adding socks to my sexy ensemble. Can’t wait to hear your commentary on that.”
That grin deepened as Lachlan reached out and ran his finger along the ribbon. “I feel sorry for the poor Amish woman you stole this from.”
Chills erupted beneath my flannel, and I meant to slap his hand away. But forgot. “My grandmother packed for me.”
“Is she mad at you?” Now Lachlan’s thumb trailed across the lace inset covering my red plaid shoulder. “If Celeste could see you now.”
“Laugh all you want, but these gowns are soft and warm.” Flickers of desire sparked and reignited, but I mentally doused them with sheer will. “If you must know, every night I stand in front of my closet and spend twenty minutes planning my outfit for the next day, agonizing over each detail. I shop online consignment stores for designer labels like it’s a part-time job, and I diet and work out daily so I can fit into what I buy. I try to strike the perfect balance between not out-dressing Celeste and never letting Morgan’s attire look better. It’s exhausting.”
Lachlan rested one hand behind me on the desk, and his hip bumped mine. “I’m tired just hearing about it.”
“But these?” I gestured to the voluminous flannel fabric covering my legs. “These pajamas require zero thought. They’re like curling up in a blanket. They’re reliable and something I can depend on.”
“You’re more complicated than I thought, Olivia Sutton.” Lachlan ran his hand down my sleeve. “I’ve always loved a good puzzle.”
One page of a hotel Bible couldn’t fit between us, and every time my chest rose and fell, it brushed against the buttons of Lachlan’s shirt. “There’s nothing to decipher here.”
“Oh, I think there is.” His gaze dipped to my lips and lingered. “Maybe the granny nightgown is a metaphor for the softer, gentler life you really want.”
Was Lachlan going to kiss me again or just make me suffer with the thought? “Maybe it’s just pajamas.”
His fingers clasped my hand for two pounds of my heart, his skin hot on mine, impressing a message I wasn’t sure I understood.
Then Lachlan simply stepped away, a hint of a smile about his lips. “I think your pajama choice shows all kind of personality.”
My throat tightened as I worked to breathe again. “Thank you.”
“But if you break out a muumuu for the ride home, I’m finding someone else to marry.”
I gave what I hoped was a chummy smile in return. “You promise?”
* * *
Three chaptersinto my book club novel later, the bed dipped as a freshly showered Lachlan slipped beneath the covers on his side. He wore a shirt that said “Gamers Push All the Right Buttons” and a pair of hot pink boxers.
“Night,” I said as I turned and flicked off the lamp beside me, tugging the comforter to my cold chin.
Lachlan doused his light, and the entire bed dipped as he turned over. “Olivia?”
“Yes?”
He took his sweet time, and I’d just about decided Lachlan had fallen asleep when he said, “Fancy events and being in a room of rich people makes me edgy.”
“You are rich people.” My teeth chattered with every word.
“I’ll never be one of them.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Your job is your business.”
I knew I owed him an apology as well, painful as it might be. “I’m sorry for what I said. Your job is important, and you work hard.”
“And?” He drew the word out, an extension of syllables and forgiveness.
“And I shouldn’t have deserted you for so long. Celeste does intrude on my time, but she means well.” My husband-of-convenience shifted closer, and the shadows of his face begged to be traced with a soft hand. “I love what I do, Lachlan.”
