Page 13 of Beehive Yourself
“And mac and cheese and pulled pork and?—”
“Be a good girl and I’ll make whatever you want.”
I open my mouth but there are no words because Sawyer just told me tobe a good girland it doesn’t matter what he meant. All I heard was the growled command in that Southern drawl I can’t get enough of.
And now my panties are soaked.
And he’s looking at me like he knows what he said, but before I can even respond, my phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me back to reality.
Work.
What a bitch.
9
HALLIE
My eyelids are heavy, and despite my best effort to keep them closed, I can’t ignore the fact that I drank an entire bottle of water before I crashed following my shift.
Dammit.
That extra shift had drained me, tipping my usual balance into delirium by the time I’d finally made it home.
With more effort than I’d like to admit, I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The wood is cool beneath my feet, sending a little shiver through my body, and because I hate sleeping in socks and I’m too stubborn to look for some, I hustle out of my room and down the hall.
My childhood home didn’t have air conditioning, and while I appreciate that Sawyer’s does, I’d rather not be navigating a meat locker to the bathroom.
Not bothering to turn the light on, I go quickly, my eyes adjusting with the help of the moon peeking in through the blinds. It’s so quiet here, peaceful and almost eerie. I thought it’d take some getting used to again but Starlight Bay is justhome.And, begrudgingly, I still love it here. The feeling surprises me, but it’s not something I can delve into tonight.
Stifling a yawn, I wash my hands and dry them before easing the door open as silently as I can. The floor creaks beneath me and I cringe, spinning on the ball of my foot to shift my weight and hoping I haven’t woken Sawyer up with my little excursion.
Pushing open my bedroom door, my whole body sags with relief at the dark outline of the bed and the promise of sleep in a few short minutes. Stumbling forward, I reach for the covers and pull them back, my momentum landing me on the mattress with a smalloofas I try to get situated. It might be my mind playing tricks on me, but the bed feels firmer than I remember, the scent of the ocean and something spicy wrapping around me as I try—and try again—to get the pillow just right.
But it feels impossible. “These pillows are awful. What?—”
“They’re not yours,” a deep masculine voice rumbles behind me, my heart rate kicking up a notch because Iknowthat voice anddammit.
Sawyer.
“Why are you in my bed?”
“I’m not in your bed.” He pauses but I already know what he’s about to say. “You’re in mine.”
The statement sounds pained but I’m not sure if I’ve just imagined it.
“I got lost on the way back from the bathroom,” I admit, while making no attempt to move.
“Okay.”
“It’s not my fault your bedroom is closer even though you have your own bathroom.”
“I offered you this room.”
Hedidin fact offer me this roomspecificallybecause I’d have more privacy with the en suite bathroom. But I didn’t think it’d be an issue.
And it wasn’t, until I got turned around when the floorboard squeaked.
“It’s fine.” I yawn, my eyelids heavy as I’m lulled closer to dreamland. “We can fight about it in the morning.”
