Page 49 of Beyond the Stroke

Rory stands, his tall, broad-shouldered frame filling up all the space that once was between us.

He starts to pull at the neck of his t-shirt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?” I stammer, my eyes immediately latching onto the sliver of smooth, bronzed skin that is exposed beneath his shirt hem.

“Getting comfortable. Last night I was warm with my t-shirt on.”

My mouth gapes open in outrage. “My lock is fixed. There’s no reason for you to stay.”

“It’s fixed, in theory. But the question is, has it been tested?” His brows raise in challenge.

“Tested?” I cross my arms over my chest. “No. I didn’t ask anyone to try to break in while I was at work.”

Rory does a sweep of the van. He looks in the bathroom, checks the front cab and doors, then glances up into the loft.

“Are you satisfied?” I ask.

“No. What if something else happens? Like, a tire blows or a tree falls on the van in the middle of the night?”

“A tree? Really? That’s your concern?”

“Yeah, you can’t predict nature. Or vandals. Or…rabid squirrels.”

“Squirrels?” I laugh at the thought. “I’m not afraid of squirrels.” My eyes narrow on Rory who is now refusing to look at me. “Areyou?”

He scoffs but when our eyes meet, I can see the discomfort there.

“You mean the furry-tailed chaos machines that frolic like harmless critters one minute, then dive-bomb you from a tree the next?”

I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing. “Rory, have you been attacked by a squirrel before?”

“No, but there’s always the potential.”

“You are tall so maybe they get confused. Maybe they think you’re another tree to jump onto.”

“Very funny.” He smirks and I’m wondering if this is all a setup. A reason for him to stay and play protector.

I blow on my hot tea before taking a sip. “I’m not usually funny, you must bring it out in me.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor and we’ll pretend like I’m Edgar’s bodyguard.”

“You’ll sleep in your own bed at home and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

We just resolved our earlier disagreement about me paying for the new lock, but somehow we’ve already found ourselves at another impasse.

“Summer.”His charming smile is replaced by a frustrated scowl.

“Rory.”I mock his frustration like a petulant teenager.

We’re in a standoff between my tiny kitchen and dining nook.

“Just because the lock’s fixed doesn’t mean I’m okay with you sleeping here alone.”

My hackles rise at his declaration.

“Guess what?” I fire back, stepping closer until my fuzzy slippers bump his feet. I’m ready to let him have it. “I—I?—”

The words are lost on my tongue as the warmth of Rory’s body floods my space. He’s warm, but the skin of my arms prickle with goosebumps at our proximity. It’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate space. A space where my powers to combat Rory’s charm no longer work.

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