Page 90 of Shame the Devil

Annabelle.She threw the covers back, swung her legs to the floor, shivered in the chill, and wished for a bathrobe. She’d bought a nightgown today, but she was only going to be here one more night, and she had a perfectly good bathrobe at home.

Straining her ears, then, and hearing the sound again. She got out of bed, still fuzzy with sleep, grabbed her phone off the nightstand, switched the flashlight on, and headed across the hall to Annabelle’s room, then stood with her hand on the doorknob and listened.

Nothing.

She heard the noise again. It wasn’t coming from Annabelle’s room. It was coming from the room next to her own. Which was Harlan’s.

Oh, boy. What did she do now?

She couldn’t stand that sound.

Listening outside his door now, then knocking softly once, and again. No response, so she opened the door a cautious couple of inches and called out, “Harlan?”

Nothing. She slipped inside, lit the way to the bed with her phone light, and saw him sit up fast.

“What?” he asked, sounding fuzzy. “What’s wrong?”

About an acre of bare chest and bicep. A long leg sculpted of pure muscle, and the covers not covering enough.

He was naked, and that clearly hadn’t been a nightmare.

She switched off the flashlight fast.

Possibly the most embarrassing moment in the history of moments.

A rustle that was probably Harlan grabbing the blankets, and he said, “Bug? What’s wrong?”

Oh. He hadn’t been able to see her behind the light. “Ah … no.” She was over by the door now, as gone as she could manage to be. “Jennifer. Sorry. I’ll just …”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I, ah, thought somebody was having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” A couple seconds, and he said, “Well, it was a dream, anyway. Hey. Come over here.”

“I should go back to bed.”

“Nah. Climb in with me. You’re cold, and I could use some company. Come talk to me.”

That would be stupid. Also crazy. The last time she’d done that, she’d gotten pregnant. She needed to go.

She said, “Just for a minute, then.” And slid in.

When her bare foot touched his, he jumped. She said, “S-sorry. Cold.”

“Yeah.” He rolled over onto his side, got an arm over her, and kissed her hair. “It was nice of you to worry.”

She laughed, and after a moment, he did, too. “It’s not my fault you’re noisy,” she said. “What was I supposed to think? You sounded tortured.”

“I did? Itwaskind of like that, I guess. And, yeah, it’d probably be more sensitive of me if it was a nightmare. That was a crappy day.”

“Mm. Dinner wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, though. Other than telling them how your mom died, you guys hardly even talked about it. I think it helped having the kids here. Things never seem as horrible with a toddler around, or maybe everybody was just stunned.”

“Uh-huh. You know, I don’t exactly want to pursue this topic.” He ran his fingers over her shoulder and sighed. “This is kind of a thin little nightgown you’ve got on. I like these little straps. Not really up to North Dakota, though, do you think? No wonder you’re cold. Tell me it’s white. I have this vision of it being white.”

“It is,” she said, feeling shy. “I thought it was pretty. It wasn’t even … on sale, though.” His hand was moving down her arm now. How could that feel so good?

Because every time he touched you, he did it with such intent, that was why. Because he was always paying attention. “I always buy things on sale,” she explained. “But I needed something pretty today.”