Page 89 of Hard to Get

“Yeah.” I roll toward her and prop my head on my elbow. I touch her face. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

“I want to spend the night with you. Sleep with you. All night.”

“I would like that, too.” Her eyes are big and luminous. “Unless you’re a bed hog. Or a covers hog. Or you snore really loudly.”

“I am none of those things.” I stroke her cheek with my knuckles. “But I thought you like to sleep on the diagonal.”

“Oh. Sometimes. That’s mostly because of Betty.”

“Ah. How about snoring?”

“She does snore. It’s a pug thing.”

I crack up. “I meant you.”

“No. But sometimes, I do like to wear an eye mask.”

“I can handle that.”

“Do you like the room cool or warm at night?”

“Definitely cool.”

She lifts her chin. “Okay, me too. It might work.” The teasing curve of her lips makes me smile. “Maybe I could get up early. I only live a couple of blocks away. Unless that would bother you…?”

Heat radiates through my chest and I smile like a fool. “I would love you to bother me.”

Two nights later, dinner’s all ready to put in the oven: a sheet pan dinner of chicken, sweet potatoes and broccoli. I have a bottle of pinot noir ready to open and a bowl of—ugh—olives and some mixed nuts to snack on before dinner. I rub my hands, waiting for Stella to arrive.

When she arrives, she’s without Betty.

“Where’s your dog?” I ask.

“I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Sorry.” I shut the condo door, pull her into my arms and kiss her until we’re both breathless. “I am happy to see you.”

“Me too.” Her eyelashes flutter. “I didn’t bring Betty.”

“You could have.” I glance down at Frank, quivering with excitement at our feet. “Frank is disappointed.”

“He doesn’t look disappointed.” She crouches to give him some attention. “I’m sorry, buddy. I wasn’t sure if Betty was invited.”

“She’s always invited. But Frank will survive.” I take her jacket and hang it in the closet then usher her into the living room. “Wine?”

“Oh, that would be nice.”

She follows me to the kitchen and perches on a stool while I open the wine and pour two glasses. I’m not much of a wine drinker but what the hell. I pass the glass over to her and take in her face. “You look tired.”

“I am.” She sighs. “I didn’t sleep much last night and… I have cramps.”

“Ah. Shark week, huh?”

She chokes on a laugh. “Yes.”

“Do you need Midol? Advil? A heating pad?”