I don’t usually get tanked like this, but something tells me I’m better off blacking out tonight.
Rounding the corner, I’m relieved to see most of the guys are already inside.
It’s after 2:00 a.m., and even cowboys have to sleep.
My stomach twists the closer I get to my room and I know it’s got nothing to do with the alcohol.
I can only pray that bastard’s asleep.
Like a prisoner walking to the chair, I take my time making my way to the door.
Come on, Colt. Pull yourself together.
You’re a grown-ass man. This isn’t a big deal. Just get in there and pass out.
The pep talk barely helps, but combined with the liquor in my system, it’s enough to get me inside.
It’s dark.
The only light comes from the moon, casting soft shadows through the window, making it hard to see but there’s no mistaking the large shape on the bed.
I bend down, pulling off each boot slowly, dragging my feet as I make my way to the edge of the mattress.
The air catches in my lungs as I strain to listen, hoping for the rhythmic sounds of breathing.
But I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my own heartbeat.
Hell, I’m more nervous now than getting on a bull.
The couch looks ancient, the cushions sunken like battle scars from a thousand asses.
Just looking at it makes my back hurt.
“Don’t be a child,” Maverick rasps without rolling over.
I curse under my breath. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. You aren’t exactly quiet. How much did you drink?”
“Judgmental fuck. I wouldn’t be wasted if you hadn’t suggested this stupid sleeping situation.”
Or was I the one who suggested it?
“Get in or fuck off, but stop hovering over me like a psychopath.”
He yanks the blanket up higher, effectively ending the conversation.
“Don’t fucking kill me in my sleep.”
Grumbling, I crawl into bed, not even bothering to change.
Normally, I sleep butt-ass naked, but like hell that’s happening now.
“Don’t give me ideas.”
“You always couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”
He grunts. The fact he doesn’t even reply pisses me off more.