Page 57 of Stubborn as a Shadow

He shrugged. “I thought this had all the makings of a hookup. Meet a stranger. Go to a quiet place alone with them. Have sex. You know.”

I did know. I’d had my share of hookups. That’s usually how I preferred things. Short. Anonymous. Satisfying enough. At thoughts of sex, my body responded.

“No,” I said sharply. Whether I was saying that to my dick or to Morgan, I didn’t know.

“Well. That’s disappointing.” He sank back against the sofa, but he was still too close. At least he’d stopped advancing toward me. “Because I’d totally let you braid my mane, if you know what I mean.”

I stood to put another log on the fire. It didn’t need it. I’d put two on when I needed to distract myself from him a few minutes ago. But at this rate, if Morgan kept saying shit like that, I’d end up smothering the fire.

I’d never been a coward before, but there was a first time for everything. After I placed the logs, I stayed beside the fire. I didn’t trust myself to return to the couch.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat.

“So,” he mimicked. He was sitting cross-legged on the couch now. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why are you standing over there?”

“Just stretching my legs.”

“I’ll quit talking about sex if you sit down again.” He sighed as he lifted his hands like he was surrendering. “I promise. No more sex talk. I won’t make any innuendos. Someone could tape our every conversation from here on out, and it’d be suitable for all audiences. No parental guidance required. Good for kiddos of all ages. Not even those words that are sort of like swear words but aren't. Super scrubbed. Like my face.”

This was what I wanted, right? So why did I feel like an ass?

To keep from reaching for him, I clenched my hands. I didn’t even know why I wanted to touch him. I just did. But I couldn’t let myself do that.

“I tried messaging my people earlier,” I started. “There is no service.”

He frowned. “We definitely shouldn’t buy a place here. I need my streaming services.”

“You’re buying a cabin? Here?”

“Not now I’m not.”

I still wasn’t following, but that was okay.

A moment later, Morgan’s nostrils flared as he inhaled audibly through his nose. His chest rose noticeably before deflating again. He blinked.

“Are you yawning?” I asked. “Without opening your mouth?”

He rolled one of his shoulders, but he didn’t speak. He wasn’t smiling either. And he hadn’t wiggled in at least five minutes.

“Morgan, I’m sorry if I made you feel you need to censor yourself. That wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Should we make up the bed?” he said, jumping off the sofa.

Yeah. We probably should, especially if he was tired. Although I suspected his suggestion stemmed from his not wanting to talk to me right now. Oh, the irony of me, the shadow, being the one who wanted to talk.

Once he was settled, I’d figure out something for myself. Shifting was an option. But my shadow form often made people uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to discomfit Morgan any more than I already had.

While I removed the seat cushions and unfolded the mattress and frame, Morgan dug through a chest to find a stash of lumpy pillows, sheets, and several blankets, including a couple of patchwork quilts, one thick fuzzy brown blanket with an elk on it, and a few small woolen blankets. They all reeked of cedar, which made me sneeze, but at least they weren’t riddled with moth holes.

Wordlessly, we made the bed and plumped up the pillows. When we were done, we stared at one another across the double-sized mattress. His cheeks were bright pink, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with his snow facial earlier or the heat from the fire now.

“I’ll… um…” I glanced around for something to say that’d ease the sudden awkwardness. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

We both looked at the hard, cold floor.

“I’ll use the cushions from the sofa,” I said.

He frowned. “Why?”