Page 12 of Crossing the Line (Small Town Love #7)

Seven

Later that night, Janice walked into her living room and smiled.

Bixby was asleep on the couch.

It wasn't all that shocking.

When they were married, he'd fall asleep on the couch regularly.

Especially after a long day at the market.

In those early years when they were getting the market to where it was running smoothly without them having to put out virtual fires over and over again during the day, they didn't even sit at the dining table to eat.

They'd throw together whatever sounded good, because how their food looked didn't count back then.

And when the food was cooked, they'd collapse on the couch and eat shoulder to shoulder watching whatever was playing on TV that night.

They didn't even bother searching for a show.

It was at least vaguely interesting they'd chew along to whatever happened on the screen.

And if they were having a particularly good day, only one of them would fall asleep on the couch.

On a tough day, they would both collapse amongst the overstuffed cushions that Janice had bought.

Those cushions had somehow ended up with Bixby after the divorce and the couch he loved so much had ended up in her half of the house.

Maybe that's why he'd fallen asleep so fast.

She sat down beside him and turned on the TV.

Now instead of the old TV channels they'd watched when they were younger, it was a streaming service that popped up on her Apple TV.

Janice turned to look at Bixby and smiled.

It was the only streaming service she used, not because she liked it but one of the high school students had set up her TV for her and she'd been too embarrassed to ask for instructions on how to navigate between streaming apps, so she just used the one.

Janice sat back against the couch and smiled to herself.

There were instructions online.

She wasn't that stupid that she didn't know that, but she was also of an age where she preferred the old way that instructions came with appliances or computer programs.

Physical books.

Her brain was probably just hardwired for reading physical text. After all, when she was in school, they were still teaching typing on typewriters, not computer keyboards.

A commercial popped up on the screen and Janice debated whether she should get up and go to the bathroom or just stay seated.

A twinge of pain in her hip decided the answer for her and she yawned, sagging back against the couch.

Her mind was swimming in exhaustion, and she had a vague question in her head.

Was she tired because of all the sun she'd had in the garden earlier?

She winced at the idea.

She always used SPF 3000 or something like that.

It was probably sympathetic exhaustion.

Or maybe, she smiled, just maybe it was because it felt good to have Bixby in her space.

Not that she'd admit it out loud.

Or to his face.

"What'r you watchn'?"

She chuckled softly at his grumpy voice.

"It's just a trailer for a show."

"Hmmm..." He sounded thoughtful, but absent at the same time. "Wanna watch wi' me?"

Her shoulder shook with silent laughter.

"Sure..." she reached for the remote and hit the play button.

It was some kind of cooking show, but not from the US.

It's funny how things that had been so familiar at one point were now odd or novel.

Had she been tired of it at one point?

The old 'familiarity breeds contempt' adage?

Janice sighed.

She didn't like not having an answer.

She turned to look at Bixby and before she knew she was doing it, she reached out and smoothed her hand down his arm, starting at his shoulder and down to his elbow, further down to his wrist.

It was likely a momentous mistake, but she trailed her fingertips down over the back of his hand.

His skin was warm.

The texture of it familiar.

She smiled, wondering how silly he'd think she was touching him like this.

Then she was too tired to worry about it.

As the host on the screen started rhythmically chopping something on a cutting board the size of a small rescue raft, Janice's eyes drifted closed and she drifted off to sleep.

BIXBY

He woke up warmer than he'd felt in a long time.

The air on his face was still pleasantly chilled.

Janice used to say that he lived the life of a polar bear, big and burly but enjoying temperatures of the arctic.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out, reaching his hand down to adjust the blanket that was draped over him.

What his hand came in contact with wasn't the familiar texture of his blanket, but something that felt more like silk under his fingertips.

Bixby opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

The fan was in the wrong place.

He shifted and realized that what was under his head wasn't his pillow but the arm of his old sofa.

That thought caught in his lungs and he lifted his hand again.

The silk he felt trailed through his fingers and the sensation dragged him from half-asleep to fully-awake in a heartbeat.

The TV was on.

What show, he didn't know.

But he could hear people talking about some kind of pie.

"Cooking show?" He sighed, his chest rising and falling even with the added weight. "Why is it always a cooking show?"

Janice shifted against his chest and her hair was dangerously close to pulling free from the light hold of his fingers.

His hand chased after the strands as she turned her head to speak.

"You're the one who said to turn it on, not me." She sighed and the warmth of her breath went through his shirt, brushing against his skin.

As long as she didn't move, he'd probably be okay and-

"You're always so grumpy when you fall asleep on the couch," she grumbled under her breath and when he laughed, she turned her head and damn it, her lips brushed against him.

He went from mildly amused to aroused in a heartbeat.

Her hand touched his waist, and he held his breath.

The only woman he'd ever been this sensitive to was Janice.

Before her, the women he'd dated had to practically climb him like a tree for him to react this strongly.

Now, it just took her grumping at him?

He'd never thought of himself as easy, but here he was holding in a breath hoping that her hand wasn't about to move and make things really interesting.

If he was smart, he should find a way to get up and go back to his half of the house.

But apparently, smart wasn't in his vocabulary at the moment.

He shifted, moving his arm to wrap it around her, thinking that if he could turn them both, she could slip back against the cushions, and he could get up from the couch.

Sure, that would have worked in theory.

Or when they were younger.

Or he was in better shape.

Instead, putting his arm around her had just the opposite effect of disentangling them.

As soon as his arm wrapped around her, Janice grabbed on as if she was going to fall.

One arm was trapped between them and the back of the couch, but her other arm?

Well, her other hand found its way under his shirt.

And that changed everything.

Her hand against his side, her fingertips against his ribs, her breasts trapped between them.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

He felt her catch her breath when her legs shifted.

He knew what that was about.

He wasn't all that big when it came to size normally, but under the right circumstances?

There was no mistaking his interest.

And this?

He knew she felt him hard against her hip.

He knew the sound of her breaths.

The stillness against him also told him that she was now wide awake.

"Bixby?"

He cleared his throat softly, but even that subtle movement only managed to bring them closer together.

And not in a sentimental way.

"You do know where your hand is, right?"

He'd meant it as a warning, to give her the chance to take her hand away from his side and give them both the chance to back things up.

They hadn't been this close in... years.

Since before the divorce.

When she moved it wasn't to move away from him.

She curled her fingers, tracing her short cut nails across the sensitive skin along his side.

Bixby blew out a breath but instead of calming his feelings it only ended up making her touch that much more.

"Janice?"

She shifted against him and the movement of her body against his felt... sensuous.

Delicious.

And he knew that he didn't want her to get up and move away, but he had to give her that opportunity.

"Babe?"

She stilled against him.

Then she moved again, lifting her head so that they could look right at each other, he felt his whole body stand up at attention.

He knew she felt it, too.

He heard her soft intake of breath and saw the way she bit into her bottom lip.

He'd always loved her lips.

"I should apologize." Her voice was softer, but it was steady.

"Apologize for what?"

Her hand moved along his side and her nails teased along his skin, sending chills through him.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep out here with you. I sat down and well," she sighed, the vibrations of her breath moved through both of them, "now here we are."

He didn't know if he felt the way he did because he was still half asleep or was he finally waking up.

"I have to admit," he smiled and moved a hand to her back, settling low and gently rubbing up and down her spine, "it's nice- No, better than nice, waking up to you."

Janice stretched, looking more like a cat than he remembered in the past. "I'd forgotten how warm you are in the mornings."

"I remember how you'd wrap yourself around me when you had cramps."

She turned her head, laying her cheek on his chest. "There were times when you didn't really appreciate waking up to me wrapped around like one of those koala clips from the eighties."

He laughed, a soft chuckle rolling through him and he felt her start to laugh, a syncopated rhythm to his own. "Yeah, well, you sometimes squeezed me almost to death."

Janice groaned softly and lifted her head, poking her chin into his chest. "It's not fun when your uterus is trying to twist itself into a pretzel. And really, it wasn't intentional."

"Hugging me?"