Page 65 of Axe-Rated Lumberjack

“Comfortable?”

“Extremely. Although I’m beginning to think your bed might have the same blanket problem as mine.”

He laughed and tucked the quilt around my shoulders.

“I’ll try to behave. But I’m not making any promises if you start stealing it in the middle of the night.”

“I have very little confidence in that promise. I believe we’ve already established who the principal blanket thief is in this relationship.”

Hudson chuckled and kissed my forehead.

We talked for a little while about the festival, the scones waiting in his kitchen, and whether we’d have enough time to finish the last recording passages before Sunday’s handoff.

He seemed confident we could manage it, and I was inclined to agree. We’d worked well together, and I knew the remaining pages intimately enough that I wasn’t worried about surprises.

Eventually, our conversation wandered toward less practical subjects.

I asked him about his favorite books, and he told me he’d never been much of a romance reader before this weekend. He liked practical nonfiction, mysteries, and the occasional adventure novel. He’d also read some of the books his mother kept around the house when he was younger.

“Maybe I’ll have to give you a few recommendations,” I said. “I have a rather extensive list of books I think you’d enjoy, although I promise not to start with anything involving a dragon and a sexually adventurous tree.”

“Go right ahead. Just don’t pick anything where somebody’s supposed to cut down a tree with a kitchen knife.”

“I’ll do my best. Although you’re eliminating a surprisingly large number of fantasy novels.”

He laughed and kissed me.

I rested my cheek against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the comfortable weight of his arm around me.

I was curled up beside a man who had made me laugh through breakfast, introduced me proudly as his date, cooked me dinner, and listened when I talked about the work I loved.

I couldn’t remember ever being happier to be sharing a bed.

Hudson reached over to switch off the lamp.

“Good night, honey.”

“Good night.”

I tucked myself closer beneath the covers, and before long, we were both asleep.

***

Sunday morning arrived with Hudson reaching across me to check the bedside clock.

I opened my eyes just as he settled back against the pillows.

“Morning,” he said, smiling when he saw that I was awake. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You haven’t.” I shifted closer and rested my hand against his chest. “What time is it?”

“Just after eight. We’ve got plenty of time before we need to think about recording.”

I considered that excellent news.

The bedroom was pleasantly warm beneath the covers, although I could see from the pale light beyond the curtains that the morning outside would be chilly. Hudson’s hair was rumpled, and he had the comfortably sleepy expression of a man who had absolutely no intention of doing anything strenuous for another hour.

I found him ridiculously attractive.