Page 41 of Cabin Mate

His head jerks up in surprise. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

I sigh. “Sorry. It’s just … Todd always thought it was stupid, and I wondered if you felt that way too.”

His eyebrows draw together the way they always do when Todd comes up in conversations. “The house I grew up in is literally an antique. I always loved growing up there; it was like everything in the house told a story, and had a special history. That’s how I see this, too. You’re an old soul. I love that about you. I always have,” he says honestly, his eyebrows relaxing.

My heart lightens at his words. “Thank you. I think you’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

We look at each other for a few seconds, the moment turning serious, maybe even … intimate? No, that can’t be the right word. Things between me and Brooks are just usually more lighthearted than this, so it feels strange.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, I add, “That must be why we’re such great friends.”

Something passes over his expression briefly before he smiles, almost like my words pained him. But it’s gone so soon I wonder if I imagined it.

Selecting my favorite three teacups and saucers along with two embroidered tea towels, we walk back up to the front and check out. I give Mrs. Nikolas a hug goodbye and so does Brooks. She squeezes his arm and winks at him before we leave and I can’t help but smile … I can’t take him anywhere.

Once we’re back outside, I direct us toward a gift shop a few stores down. “Okay, this shop should have some pajamas for you. And possibly sheets.” I give him a pointed look filled with judgment at his sensibilities.

He purses his lips before opening the door for me. The gift shop is decorated in red and black buffalo plaid. There’s a fire blazing in a wood-burning stove, filling the building with the smell of firewood. It’s very homey, but I can only imagine the fit Mildred will throw later when we’re at our dress fitting and I smell like a bonfire.

Brooks takes a few long strides toward a wall lined with men’s clothing. Mostly t-shirts and hoodies that say Vermont on them. He rummages through them before finally finding a rack of clearance pajamas.

He looks through the entire rack before glancing at me with a very annoyed expression. “They’re all footie pajamas.”

I roll my lips together to keep from laughing. Walking toward him, I spot a pair of white footie pajamas that resembles a unicorn costume. There’s even a hood with a unicorn horn attached. I hold it up to him.

“This one would be perfect. Very magical.”

He crosses his arms and looks down at the unicorn pajamas. “I’m man enough to wear a unicorn outfit … but I will literally sweat to death in that furry thing.”

I nod once in agreement. “True. Are you sure this is all they have?”

A door at the back of the small shop with a sign reading “employees only” opens up. A burly man with a thick brown beard and snow hat walks out. “Oh, hello! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” His deep voice booms heartily throughout the small space. “I’m Otto. How can I help you folks?”

Brooks shoves the unicorn pajamas away from him. “I’m looking for some pajamas … preferably nothing fuzzy.”

Otto puts his large fists on his ample hips and blows out a deep breath, causing his mustache to flutter. “I had some cotton sets last week, but I’m afraid we’re all sold out.”

Brooks glances at me apologetically before turning his attention back to Otto. “How about sheets?”

“You’re in luck!” Otto releases a jolly chuckle and waves us over toward a large wooden shelf displaying several sheet sets tied into cute bundles. “We just restocked our sheets.”

They’re all flannel. Every single one of them. Brooks politely peruses the selection, anyway.

“I’ll be up front. You folks let me know if you need help finding anything else!” Otto says with a grin.

We thank him and he leaves us to look at the sheets. Brooks closes his eyes and groans. “Are there any other shops that might have something?”

“You’d have better luck ordering something online. But fair warning, Amazon delivery takes more than two days around here.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to deal with the boxers then.”

The thought of seeing my best friend in nothing but his skivvies every night sends me into a panic. I’m still reeling from the sight of all those muscles last night … and then again this morning. No, he cannot continue sleeping like that. Our friendship can’t survive it.

“If I ask my mother if there are any other sheets, will you wear pajamas?”

“Fine,” he concedes. “But I can’t wear fuzzy pajamas and sleep under flannel or I’ll sweat to death.”

I cringe. “Gross.”