Page 47 of Love to Hate You

“Then I won’t let our personal issues get in the way. As long as you promise me something.”

“Anything” popped out before he could stop it.

“If you discover Randy has even an inkling of cold feet, you tell me.” Disappointment flooded him that the favor had nothing to do with him. “I don’t want her to give up her home, her job—heck, her life—and move to New York only to be left with nothing.”

“As long as you promise to give my family a fair chance.”

“Deal,” she said, and he grinned because Wes was part of the Kingston family, which meant she was willing to give him a chance too. At what? He didn’t know. But he was giddy all the same.

“Now, scoot over.”

“I said I would give you a chance, not that we’d sleep together.”

“It’s the only free bed in the house. You wouldn’t expect me to sleep on the floor next to your dad and his snoring, would you?”

She grimaced and he saw the first crack form. “Sleep in the recliner.”

He lifted a brow. “Love, I’m six foot three. That would look like a preschool seat with me in it.”

She snickered, as if she’d like to see that sometime.

“And your aunt and uncle don’t strike me as the throuple type, which leaves here.”

“Fine, but you get the top bunk.”

“Again, six-foot-three.”

He tossed his pillow and blanket on the other side of her and started to crawl over.

“What are you doing?” She was batting at his head, his shoulders, his jaw, anywhere her hands could swat.

He rolled over her completely and made a big show of getting comfortable before lying down.

“Nope. Not happening.” She shoved him but he didn’t budge. “You are not sleeping there.”

“Okay.”

He rolled back over her making sure all their good parts lined up, and held still for a moment until her breath caught, then he shoved her into the depths of the bed, with him on the outside, stretched out and taking up most the mattress.

“What are you doing?”

“Making myself comfortable.”

She shoved at him and again he didn’t budge. She growled. “This isn’t even your room. Look at the nameplate.”

In the moonlight he could see, hung on the door was a chalkboard, withSUMMER & AUTUMNscribbled in bubble lettered chalk. He climbed out of bed, walked casually over to the sign, then simply erasedAUTUMNand wroteASSHOLE.

It was barely there, but he saw it. The slightest ghost of a smile tilted her lips. Which amused him.

“My dad made it really clear no boys in the bedroom after dark.”

“Funny, because your dad told me to come stand my ground.”

She leaned back against the headboard and crossed her arms, which told him that she was a) pissed, b) not wearing a bra, and c) closer to caving than kicking him in the nuts.

“This is the hill you want to die on?”

“No, but this is the bed I’m going to sleep on, and since I’m a big guy there’s no way I’ll fit up top.”

---