Page 44 of No Funny Business

Twenty

Are you awake?” I whisper at his horizontal back, gripping the blanket to my chin.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he says like he’s been lying with his eyes open the whole time.

I swallow hard. “I think you were right about hypothermia.” We both know this isn’t actually possible given that it’s only about fifty-something degrees in here, but I’m hoping he’ll make this easy on me and take the bait so I don’t have to come out and ask.

“So...”

I wait for him to say more but he doesn’t. “So, should we...”

“Should we what?”

Does he really not know or is he screwing with me? I try again. “Maybe it’s a good idea that we, you know?”

“Ooh, I see. You’re down to snuggle now.” Oh, yeah, he’s screwing with me. Too bad we can’t solve this issue with an old-fashioned screw.

I swallow my desires and say, “No, I’m not down to snuggle. But I’m...”

“You’re what?”

You see, a gentleman wouldn’t make me say it. But Nick’s a comedian. “I’m up for sharing the bed. Just because I can’t feel my face.”

He rises from his mattress, gathering all the miscellaneous linens and shuffling over like a big, dopey blanket monster. Apparently the cuddly type. He freezes over me. Not literally, of course, but I feel it’s necessary to clarify. “Do I have your consent?” he asks.

“Consent for what?” What does he think is happening here?

“Do I have your permission to lie down next to you?”

“Obviously.”

“No, not obviously. A man in my position should get consent.”

“Oh my god.” I don’t think he’s joking. And while I appreciate that he’s trying to be respectful, I prefer that he shut up, get in this bed, and radiate some damn body heat my way so I can get some shut-eye. “Yes, you have permission to lie next to me.”

“Since you’re an attorney, can you say, ‘I, Olivia Vincent, Esquire, hereby grant—’ ”

“Nick! Stop screwing around and get in the bed. I’m freezing my ass off!”

“Okay, I’ll allow it.” He throws his blankets, towels, and curtain on top of mine. The weight of it all is already an improvement. Still, the tiny hairs on my skin stand up at attention when he climbs in next to me, settling on his back. “I totally get killing horses now,” he says.

Huh? What kinda psycho-slaughter-babble is this? “Okay, I changed my mind. Go back to your own bed.”

“No, I’m talking about sleeping in a carcass for warmth. You know, cowboy style. Don’t you do that in Texas?”

I roll my eyes, too cold to laugh. “Believe me, if I had a horse right now, we would not be sharing a bed.”

He scoots himself a little closer, and the tip of his pinky finger just barely touches my knee, but it’s enough to send my heart racing to a steady gallop. “Am I too close?” he whispers gently. I’m far closer to Nick than I should ever allow. The heat of his body warms the space between us, and all I want to do is close that space. Maybe even lie beneath him for just a little while. For survival, I mean.

“No, you’re fine,” I say.

“Okay, good, because your body’s hot.”

“What?” I feel myself warm up in a way I haven’t for so long, and bite my bottom lip.

“I mean your body heat is helping.”

“Oh.” His clarification does little to stamp out this fire that’s beginning to blaze inside me. Every inch of my body is responding to him. The way his breath moves slowly in and slowly out. The leftover scent of his sweet cologne. There’s a whirling in my belly as my breath grows heavier.