Page 76 of Craving Francesca

“How’s that worked so far?”

“I’ll find a job soon,” she countered as she pulled back to meet my eyes. “Or he’ll stop. Preferably both.”

“You haven’t been sleepin’.”

“I’ve always had insomnia.” She shrugged. “When I’m stressed, it gets worse.”

“You’ve fallen asleep on me twice,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but one of those was during the day, and naps have never been an issue. The other time I woke up after you left, and I was up most of the night.”

I nodded.

“You need to get away from here for a bit.” Sliding my fingers through the hair at her temple, I tucked it behind her ear. The skin was delicate and pale, and she really must have been self-conscious about them because there wasn’t even a piercing scar.

She gave her head a little shake so that the hair would fall back out and cover it again.

“Where the hell would I go?” she asked sarcastically. “Use the savings that I might need soon to go on vacation?”

“You got vacation days saved up?”

Her eyes lost focus as she thought. “I have nine days left this year, but I’m supposed to go to a concert in Seattle in October with the girls, so I can only use eight.”

“Eight’s plenty.”

“Right,” she scoffed.

“Let’s go,” I said, the idea taking shape in my mind. “We’ll pack light. Ride down through the Redwoods. Or head east and hit Sturgis, if you want. Grand Canyon. Vegas. We can get pretty far in eight days.”

“What, you want to go with me?”

“My bike,” I said, my lips tipping up. “Think you’d be goin’ with me.”

“I can’t just take off on the back of your motorcycle.”

“Sure you can. What’s stoppin’ you?”

“Well, for one, I didn’t get the days off in advance.”

“Tell them you’ve got a family emergency.”

“Like what?” Her hands had idly moved up the center of my back and were currently brushing lightly against the hair at my nape. I didn’t even think she realized she was doing it.

“Tell ’em your man’s mother died.”

She looked at me blankly for a moment before her mouth dropped open, and she laughed. A real laugh. “That’s so fucked up.”

“Not a lie.”

“You’re not my man.”

“All right, stretchin’ the truth a bit.”

“It’s crazy. The whole idea is crazy,” she mumbled. I could tell she was considering it, though.

“We’ll leave tonight,” I said, running my thumb back and forth gently along the side of her thigh. “Send ’em an email.”

“Don’tyouhave to work?”

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