She ignored his suggestion and shifted her gaze to the fireplace while he coaxed the tiny flame into a roaring fire. A pot hung from a hook.
“Soup?” she asked.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Me neither, but I thought maybe you’d be.” Adrienne cleared her throat. “This all belongs to someone.”
“We’ll leave money and a thank-you note on the table.”
She didn’t doubt that Nick would be generous. “What if they find us here?”
Nick looked out the window at the now-raging storm.
Lightning lit up the small room, momentarily blinding Adrienne. After a moment, the room returned to a cozy glow.
“Your pants are wet,” she said.
Nick turned from the fire, rifled through his bag, and pulled out a large T-shirt, the sort of thing he slept in when they stayed at hotels. He tossed it to her and she caught it. It smelled of his cologne. He had thought to bring his bag, but she’d left hers in the car.
She quickly stepped out of her jeans and pulled the T-shirt over her head, hypersensitive to him, wondering if he was watching her. Her skin tingled. She heard him moving behind her and turned to see that he’d taken off his jeans and now wore only his boxers. He pulled back the covers on the bed.
She folded her arms protectively across her chest and frowned at him.
Nick sighed. “As much as I’d like to, I’m tired and cold. You’re swaying on your feet. Tonight, I think you’ll find sharing my toothbrush to be as much intimacy as you’ll be able to stand.”
He knew her too well.
He gestured at the bed. “Would you like the right or the left side?”
#
Adrienne shifted. She couldn’t find a comfortable place. The bed groaned every time she moved. Staring at the embers smoldering in the fireplace, she willed herself to sleep. The colors in the grate shifted, and she turned her attention to the much more boring and static ceiling.
Beside her, Nick lay on his side with his back to her. She knew by his breathing that he wasn’t sleeping. It’d taken her weeks to get used to sleeping without Seb beside her, and now she couldn’t sleep because of Nick. He didn’t seem bothered at all, whereas she had morphed into a collection of protruding, restless bones. She tucked her knees into her chest, lying on her side, her arm pinned beneath her, its circulation cut off, slowly growing numb. She eased onto her back and the bed groaned again.
The sheets smelled musty, but they seemed clean enough. No obvious stains. She didn’t think she could have tolerated that. As far as beds went, this one wasn’t so terribly uncomfortable. Just noisy.
She considered the mound in the blanket beside her. Why was she so ridiculously aware of his breath, his smell, the warmth of his body? Adrienne tried to make herself as small and still as she could. Huddling in the fetal position, she wondered how they’d get out tomorrow. No cell service —they’d have to walk to the main highway and then hitch a ride into town. Of course, being with Nick would be much better than being alone. Safer.
Her neck hurt. She rolled over and punched her pillow. She had down pillows at home. This pillow must have been made from shredded cardboard. It smelled like oatmeal. Maybe it’d been made from a recycled cereal box. Why wasn’t she asleep?
“Adrienne?”
She went still. Played dead.
The blankets rustled as Nick rolled over. Adrienne scooted to the edge of the mattress.
“Why are you awake?” he asked.
“How could anyone sleep? This bed is noisy. The pillow is made of gravel.” She didn’t like the sound of her voice. She knew she sounded petulant, and she hated being the spoiled princess. “I’m cold.”
Nick hitched himself onto his elbow. “Here,” he said, enveloping her in his arms and pulling her against him.
She nestled against his warmth.
His arm draped across her, holding her against his chest. Nick adjusted so his chin rested on her head. He smelled of cologne and of the fire, a mixture of the familiar and the primitive.
“Adrienne,” Nick murmured into her hair.
