Page 25 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
“Or…” Nia looked almost tentative. “A boyfriend?”
Lochlan blinked. “No.”
“Wow.” Her eyes widened, lips parting in shock or maybe revelation. “You’re chronically single.”
He choked on his drink. “I’m not?—”
“Oh, this is tragic.” She leaned forward, elbows on the counter, studying him like some rare, baffling discovery. “No spouse, no girlfriend, no boyfriend—hell, not even a fling that comes over for dinner?”
“Well, your father took care of the spouse thing.”
Nia blinked. Then her lips thinned.
“Shit.” Lochlan winced. “Sorry.”
She huffed a laugh. “You’re not wrong.” She took a bite of food, moaning again. “He’s got jokes and he can cook,” she mumbled to herself. Then, to him, she said, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Lochlan.”
She smiled at him, and for a moment, he felt lighter than ever.
He didn’t know how to fill the silence that followed, so he dropped his gaze to his plate and forced himself to take a bite.
Throughout the meal, he was both comforted and tormented by how much she enjoyed the food. Her soft groans of satisfaction and the little sighs she made as she ate left his thoughts scattered and his chest tight.
When she insisted on handling the cleanup, he didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed Jade’s leash and headed for the door. Walking through the greenhouse, past his ducks and the tangled sprawl of plants, he slipped outside and let the cold night air hit his flushed skin, a welcome shock to his overheated system. He exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl into the darkness.
Maybe a walk would clear his head.
After finishing their nightly routines, they found themselves standing in Lochlan’s bedroom, staring at the large bed as if it were an unsolvable puzzle.
“You don’t have a guest bedroom?” she asked, her tone more curious than accusatory.
“No,” he replied. His family wouldn’t be caught dead here, and Becket’s house was only a five-minute walk away, so he’d never needed to crash here. What would be the point?
“I can sleep on the couch,” Lochlan offered, taking a step toward the door.
“No.” Her voice was firm, cutting through the awkwardness. “No, we’re adults. We can share a bed.”
Share a bed.
She said it like it was simple, practical, and didn’t carry the risk of unraveling him entirely.
She moved to the left side of the bed without hesitation. It shouldn’t have mattered which side she picked, but the fact that she’d chosen the opposite of where he usually slept felt… deliberate. It was stupid to read into it. She—anyone, really—had a fifty percent chance of picking the right side.
Lochlan scoffed at himself, shaking his head.
“Did you just laugh?” Nia turned, one eyebrow raised.
“No,” he lied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t laugh.”
“Right.” Her lips twitched. “You’re very serious. Very stoic.”
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bed and pulled down the covers. He watched, hyper-aware of how small she looked against the massive bed, how out of place this moment felt. He’d never shared his bed with anyone before. Not for lack of desire—he’d just never let anyone close enough.
As she settled in, he hesitated awkwardly at the edge of the mattress. His usual spot suddenly felt too intimate, too charged.
“You’re overthinking it,” she said without looking up, her voice softer now. “Just lie down. It’s not a big deal.”
