Page 48 of Reluctantly Yours

I grab her wrist, probably harder than I mean to, but her actions are not helping this situation.

“Please stop.”

“Sorry, again. I’m having an off morning. I didn’t sleep well.”

“The luxury Egyptian cotton sheets were too comfortable?” I ask, trying not to take offense to Chloe’s lack of rest.

“Oh, it wasn’t the sheets. Those are amazing. Very soft and pleasing to the touch. Just first night in a new place. You know when you wake up in a strange bed and forget how you got there. That kind of thing.”

I want to ask her how often she’s woken up in a strange bed but I choose a safer topic.

“How’s your head?” I ask.

“Good. It hurts less than yesterday. How does it look?”

I study her face. Those big blue eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes and her petite nose. If she has makeup on, it’s hard to tell with the light smattering of freckles still visible across her nose and cheeks. There’s one prominent freckle near her lips. It’s always pulled my attention there. Lush, pink lips that taunt me. Because they’re red today, I’m even more entranced.

Finally, I lift my gaze to her forehead. The ice took care of most of the swelling, but there is definitely a bruise. My chest tightens with regret. I hate that she got hurt.

“Better,” I reply.

“Good.” She gently touches the spot before reaching for her purse. “How’d you sleep?”

I know she’s making conversation but her question provokes the reason for my curtness this morning. I slept like shit. Like Chloe, it wasn’t due to lack of comfort. Knowing Chloe was down the hall set my body on high alert. Then there was the hour I spent wondering what she sleeps in, and my mind replayed the scene with her in the bathtub over and over until I had to take matters into my own hands for the second time that day. By the time I drifted off to sleep, it wasn’t long before my alarm clock was going off.

“Good,” I say. No one really wants to know how you’re feeling or how well you slept. Chloe is the rare person who offers up nuanced details when people ask her questions, and even when they don’t.

“Thanks for the coffee. Even though I spilled it on you. It was nice to have it ready to go this morning.”

“That was Rose.”

“Oh, well then I’ll have to thank her.”

She takes the thermos from the cup holder and takes a sip. That seems to calm her erratic behavior, which I appreciate because all I want to do is sit in peace and work.

A few minutes later, she’s staring at her phone and I think the rest of the drive will be in peace until she starts talking again.

“Oh, this one is hard,” she announces. I turn to find her bruised forehead wrinkled in concentration.

“Excuse me?”

“The WordIt today.” She waves her phone at me. A grid with letters is on display. “Do you play?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I realize I should have simply said no to avoid her explanation.

“It’s a word game. Online. You guess a five-letter word and it tells you if the letters you guess are in the correct place or if they’re in the word, but not in the correct place. You get six tries to guess the word. It’s fun.”

“I don’t have time for games.”

I look back down at my phone.

“We’re going to an event tomorrow night,” I say.

“Oh. What kind of event?” she asks.

“The Top Dog Gala benefitting the Animal Medical Center.”

“Really?” Chloe lights up. “That sounds like fun.”