Page 43 of Cowboy Mountain Man

“And I can’t promise anything while I’m lying here wearing none of your clothes.”

He smiles. “Tomorrow, then.”

I laugh softly.

Tomorrow sounds manageable. Even if I’m already imagining mornings after that.

He bends and kisses my forehead. “Get some sleep.”

This time, I settle without arguing. My hand rests over his heart. He keeps his arm around me as my eyes drift closed.

Wind rattles against the window. The floorboards strain and creak as they settle.

Harlan’s fingers stop moving against my back.

I feel him listening. I tilt my face toward his chest. “Will you sleep, too?”

“In a little while.”

I’m too tired to argue with an answer I don’t quite believe. Instead, I press a kiss against his skin. “Wake me if you need anything.”

His lips touch my hair. “I will.”

I leave my hand over his heart. For tonight, I’m staying right here.

Chapter

Seven

HOPE

Iwake up alone. For one ugly second, I’m back in the Bell house, staring at a clean coffee mug in a kitchen that’s supposed to be empty.

Then I see Harlan’s shirt hanging over the chair. His hat on the dresser. My boots beside the bed.

I hear his voice through the door. And remember.

Oh.

I pull the quilt over my face. There are several things I should be thinking about this morning. The men who broke into his cabin. My missing camera. The fact that somebody asked for my address.

Instead, I’m thinking about his mouth. This seems like a poor allocation of resources.

A knock sounds. “You awake?”

“Unfortunately.”

The door opens. Harlan stands there carrying a mug. Clean shirt. Jeans. Damp hair. Apparently, the morning has done nothing to diminish the problem. “Coffee.”

I sit up, holding the quilt against my chest. “Is this the one I’m supposed to complain about?”

“That’s the plan.”

I take the mug. He bends and kisses me. Briefly. Enough to make the coffee a secondary concern.

“Alden brought your things from the inn,” he says.

“My things?”