Page 216 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Ever sleep outdoors?”
“Not in the middle of nowhere.”
He turned toward her. “Even in a tent?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.
Was he was teasing? So what if she hadn’t slept outside? She hadn’t had the desire. Did that make her weak?
“Do you have a tent?” she asked.
“A little one-man job. No sleeping bag, but it’ll be some protection.”
“From what?”
He paused. Then as if it was obvious, explained, “The temperature’s falling fast.”
“What do you mean, falling? I’m sweating like a pig.”
“Lovely,” he said, laughter in his voice. “As high up as we are, it will probably get down to the upper thirties. The tent will be some protection for you.”
Upper thirties? In July? “For me? What about you?”
“I’ll be fine outside. I’ve done it before.”
“Without a sleeping bag?” she asked skeptically. “Or a fire shirt?”
“Well.” He swallowed. “No.”
“Then you’re in the tent too.”
He paused again, giving her time to consider what she’d just offered. She was going to sleep in the same tent as a man she’d known a—was it only two days? How could this all have happened in two days?
“It’s real small, close quarters,” he said. “And I said I’d keep watch.”
Was it her imagination or did his voice sound huskier than it had a minute ago? Imagination or reality, it sent skitters down her spine to places long ignored.
Okay, get a grip, Peyton. Yeah, he’s a hunk. Yeah, she’d be sleeping next to him, but they’d both be fully clothed and too exhausted to act on any interest. If there was any on his part. Which there probably wasn’t.
Not that it mattered.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re exhausted too, and you said we’re safe here. In the tent, at least we’ll be warm.” Okay, her voice was definitely huskier. Probably all the smoke they’d breathed today. Uh-huh, that was it.
The tent couldn’t be that small, could it?
Okay, it was. Um. Gabe straightened up from driving the last spike. The tent was no bigger than a coffin and she was going to share it with him. No way they were both going to fit. Maybe she could sleep outside. Hypothermia had nothing on sleeping next to a man who oozed virility. But she was already shivering, though earlier she could have sworn she’d never be cold again.
“Um, I think I’ll sleep outside.”
She heard him suck in an impatient breath, but couldn’t look at him.
“We can sleep with our heads toward the opening, can even leave it unzipped a bit if you want.”
He thought her claustrophobia made her hesitate. And she had to admire his patience. She didn’t realize he had the resources. He couldn’t understand—she wouldn’t admit—his size, his undiluted maleness had her heart hammering in her chest.
“It won’t be bad, Peyton. You’ll be asleep before you know it. And it’s going to be too cold out here.”
Come on, Peyton. You ran from a wildfire today, crawled through a cave. You can sleep next to a man you hardly know. She squared her shoulders and nodded, though he’d turned off the flashlight and couldn’t see her.
He took her arm, urging her into the tent. When she crawled inside, feet first, the nylon stretched over hard ground was like the bed of a five-star hotel.
