the frigid floorboards?”
“I don’t think you are going to let me do anything,” she snapped, hackles up at his tone. “I make decisions for myself.”
“You will sleep in my bed.” He stepped forward, his flat tone suggesting the debate was over.
He clearly didn’t know who he was up against.
“I wouldn’t sleepin your bed in a million years.” He flinched at her riled-up response. Shiznits . She hadn’t meant the words as a personal insult, only as hyperbole. If truth were to be told, under vastly different circumstances, she’d be interested in sleeping in that bed all right—just not alone. No, she didn’t want to sleep on the ground, listening to Dad’s snoring but she also didn’t want to kick a guy outof his own room. Especially this tall, broody, Byronic stranger whom she’d already inconvenienced and who was dealing with a score of physical injuries.
“You’re as stubborn as a Missouri mule.” It didn’t sound like he offered the line as a compliment.
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Takes one to know one.” Good lord, this guy really brought out her sass.
He glowered down at her.She was tall but he was taller still. Made her five-foot-nine feel dainty, petite, which never happened.
She marched past him into the spare room where Dad stood next to the bed. “In you get,” she said, throwing back the sheets.
He responded easy as a child. Easier actually. The meds must be kicking in, coupled by exhaustion.
“You’ve had a big day, haven’t you?” She smoothed backhis hair, feeling not for the first time like the parent rather than the child.
He nodded, probably not because he comprehended, but because she ended the sentence on an upward inflection. He answered every question with some sort of yes. She liked to take that as a sign of innate optimism.
“And look what we have here.” She held up the Grimm’s Fairy Tales for inspection as if she werea sommelier at a wine bar. This time there was no nod, only more staring. She turned to a story in the middle, “The Frog Prince,” and began to read about a beautiful young princess who lost her golden ball down the well. A frog promised to recover it if she would grant his wishes—let him sleep on her pillow and eat off her plate. She desperately agreed and he returned the ball. Afterward, the girlhad no intention of keeping her promise, but the king shamed her into keeping the bargain, which she did with resentment in her heart. After three nights, poof—the frog became a handsome prince. Cue the happy ever after.
“Oh spare me.” She frowned at the page before glancing up, startled by Dad’s snore. The princess was mean and awful. Why did she deserve to win? Why did the prince love her?
Quinn stared at her father’s sleeping form.
She hadn’t meant to be prickly in Wilder’s room. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t afford to be attracted to anyone right now. She should go apologize. Yes. That’s it. Right now.
She rose slowly, tiptoeing into the adjacent room.
“Hey,” she called in a loud whisper. “I’m sorry about the way I acted.”
Wilder didn’t budge in therocking chair.
“I was rude in your room and that’s inexcusable. Sometimes I say things without thinking.”
Still no answer. Tough crowd.
She crept forward and that’s when she realized his eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and rhythmic. He had dozed off, angled ever so slightly toward the direction of the spare room. Had he been listening to the bedtime story too?
She leanedforward, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue in case he was kidding around.
He didn’t flinch. In sleep, his features held something gentle, an innocence, as if you could see the boy he once was, long ago. All dark hair and long lashes. A face you wanted to touch. Instead, she balled her hand into a fist before it got any funny ideas and padded into his room, plucking up the blanketfolded on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t bear to wake
“I don’t think you are going to let me do anything,” she snapped, hackles up at his tone. “I make decisions for myself.”
“You will sleep in my bed.” He stepped forward, his flat tone suggesting the debate was over.
He clearly didn’t know who he was up against.
“I wouldn’t sleepin your bed in a million years.” He flinched at her riled-up response. Shiznits . She hadn’t meant the words as a personal insult, only as hyperbole. If truth were to be told, under vastly different circumstances, she’d be interested in sleeping in that bed all right—just not alone. No, she didn’t want to sleep on the ground, listening to Dad’s snoring but she also didn’t want to kick a guy outof his own room. Especially this tall, broody, Byronic stranger whom she’d already inconvenienced and who was dealing with a score of physical injuries.
“You’re as stubborn as a Missouri mule.” It didn’t sound like he offered the line as a compliment.
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Takes one to know one.” Good lord, this guy really brought out her sass.
He glowered down at her.She was tall but he was taller still. Made her five-foot-nine feel dainty, petite, which never happened.
She marched past him into the spare room where Dad stood next to the bed. “In you get,” she said, throwing back the sheets.
He responded easy as a child. Easier actually. The meds must be kicking in, coupled by exhaustion.
“You’ve had a big day, haven’t you?” She smoothed backhis hair, feeling not for the first time like the parent rather than the child.
He nodded, probably not because he comprehended, but because she ended the sentence on an upward inflection. He answered every question with some sort of yes. She liked to take that as a sign of innate optimism.
“And look what we have here.” She held up the Grimm’s Fairy Tales for inspection as if she werea sommelier at a wine bar. This time there was no nod, only more staring. She turned to a story in the middle, “The Frog Prince,” and began to read about a beautiful young princess who lost her golden ball down the well. A frog promised to recover it if she would grant his wishes—let him sleep on her pillow and eat off her plate. She desperately agreed and he returned the ball. Afterward, the girlhad no intention of keeping her promise, but the king shamed her into keeping the bargain, which she did with resentment in her heart. After three nights, poof—the frog became a handsome prince. Cue the happy ever after.
“Oh spare me.” She frowned at the page before glancing up, startled by Dad’s snore. The princess was mean and awful. Why did she deserve to win? Why did the prince love her?
Quinn stared at her father’s sleeping form.
She hadn’t meant to be prickly in Wilder’s room. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t afford to be attracted to anyone right now. She should go apologize. Yes. That’s it. Right now.
She rose slowly, tiptoeing into the adjacent room.
“Hey,” she called in a loud whisper. “I’m sorry about the way I acted.”
Wilder didn’t budge in therocking chair.
“I was rude in your room and that’s inexcusable. Sometimes I say things without thinking.”
Still no answer. Tough crowd.
She crept forward and that’s when she realized his eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and rhythmic. He had dozed off, angled ever so slightly toward the direction of the spare room. Had he been listening to the bedtime story too?
She leanedforward, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue in case he was kidding around.
He didn’t flinch. In sleep, his features held something gentle, an innocence, as if you could see the boy he once was, long ago. All dark hair and long lashes. A face you wanted to touch. Instead, she balled her hand into a fist before it got any funny ideas and padded into his room, plucking up the blanketfolded on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t bear to wake
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