Page 49 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
But that’s going to be a lot harder than I would like.
Chapter Fourteen
Micah
It’s not the most flatteringoutfit, but with the storm raging outside, I’d much rather be in a pair of pants than a dress. Besides, it’s not like I have anyone to impress. The only one who is going to see me is Fischer, and he won’t care. Especially because he’ll be in the exact same outfit, which I find hilarious. There were several assorted colors of polo in the little locker room at the back of the gym, but forcing Fischer to wear the pale green shirt with me sounded way more fun.
By the time I get back to the lobby, Fischer has turned on one of the fires, and he and Kenny are deep in conversation about what sounds a lot like murder. Not concerning at all…
“If you’re going to bury a body,” Kenny is saying, “you need to find some sort of roadkill to bury above it. Even if cadaver dogs find it, they’ll see the animal and move on.”
“Really, you just have to bury them in a fresh grave in a cemetery,” Fischer argues. “Or in multiple pieces. A six-foot hole is a lot more obvious than a dozen small holes in gardens across the city.”
“If I had a garden,” I say, pulling their attention to me, “I’d let you bury a hand in it, but nothing bigger than that.” I plop onto the couch next to Fischer, a lot closer than I meant to, and the impact knocks me into him.
He wraps an arm around me to steady me, but then he doesn’t move outside of settling back into his spot with me tucked under his arm. “I appreciate the solidarity,” he says, sounding completely serious. “I may have to take you up on that after finding out Grant made Kenny stop at the liquor store on the way up here.”
I’m barely comprehending anything he’s saying because his arm is speaking so much louder. I knew he had muscle, but geez louise. With his bare skin pressed against my neck, I feel every muscle shift and tense as he slightly adjusts his hold on me. I’m tempted to curl up into his chest just to see what he’ll do.
“It’s freezing,” I mutter, even though my body is on fire right now. I’m hoping he offers an invitation to get closer.
“Why do you think I’m stealing your body heat?” Fischer replies.
Oh. So that’s why he’s holding onto me? It makes sense, I guess. He’s always in a long sleeve button-up, and the storm has thrown the lodge into a much colder temperature than we were prepared for.
“I’ve got plenty of heat to spare,” I say, which at the moment is true, though usually I’m always on the cold side. It’s one of the reasons I couldn’t bring myself to consider moving to Diamond Springs with my dad when he remarried. It’s so much higher there and therefore colder.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up my e-reader app and flip to a new book. It’ll be better than feeling disappointed that my coworker doesn’t want to cuddle.
“You’re reading a book on your phone?” Fischer asks.
“If that’s okay. I don’t want to be rude, but I need to decompress after all that planning.”
“As long as you don’t mind that we’re talking about murder documentaries,” Kenny says with a chuckle.
I grin at him. Chad likes watching those things, and I don’t know how he sleeps at night. With his job as a PI, he already deals with a lot of people making stupid and harmful decisions, and I’ve told him multiple times that he should fill his life with happier things. Hopefully he’s not shut up in his vacation house by himself reading Stephen King or something instead of getting his flirt on with his neighbor.
“That’s fine by me,” I tell Kenny. “I can tune you guys out.” Though, now that I think about it, with the way I’m pressed up against Fischer, that will probably be harder than I’d like. Twisting, I meet his gaze. “Is this okay? I don’t have to sit here.”
His fingers tangle up in my hair as if he’s done this a million times. For those wondering: he hasn’t. “I don’t mind,” he says, and I think he means that, which seems to surprise him as much as it surprises me. Yeah, we’ve spent all day together, but that doesn’t mean he has ever been very touchy-feely before now. I wish I was better at reading him so I could understand the way he’s looking at me.
We sit there for so long looking at each other that I start to get a crick in my neck, and I squirm.
“Here,” Fischer says and stretches his legs out onto the ottoman, pulling us down so we’re reclining rather than sitting up. It’s monumentally more comfortable but a whole lot closer to cuddling than I would have expected from a guy like Fischer. This move doesn’t exactly speak of his ‘no dating coworkers’ sentimentality, but who am I to argue? This spot is way better than a cold couch to myself all evening.
I snuggle in, taking advantage of his uncharacteristic closeness. “Are yousurethis is okay?”
He chuckles. “Read your book, Micah. We have a long night ahead of us.”
I highly doubt he’s planning on spending the whole night on this couch together, but a part of me pretends that that’s his goal. That he is so desperate to be close to me that he’ll sacrifice a good night’s sleep—one he badly needs—to cuddle with me. It’s not all that hard to imagine.
This would make a pretty good scene in a book.
As Fischer and Kenny jump back into their murderous discussion, I settle into my book—a romance set in 1950s Wyoming—and let the rumble of Fischer’s voice lull me into a comfortable haze. Is this what being in a relationship feels like? All of my dates have me on my best behavior, and I’m always pretty certain that the guys aren’t being their genuine selves because they want to impress me. First dates suck, and I wish I could skip the beginning and get to this part with someone. The comfortable part, where we’re happy just being together rather than so focused on saying and doing the right things so the other person will like us. Why is this part of dating so hard to find?
Twenty minutes into the book, once Fischer and Kenny have gone silent and are looking at their phones, I pause on a certain word and realize I don’t have to Google the answer to my question. I can just ask someone. “What does sandalwood smell like? Every other guy in these books smells like sandalwood and I have no idea what that smells like.”
Fischer scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know. What book are you reading?”
