Page 17 of Kissing Kin
Maeve’s breathing was steady and shallow.
“Are you awake? Maybe I should let—”
“No, I’m just resting my eyes.” She gave him a sleepy smile. “Don’t you want to know what Marianna does?”
“Yes, but you seem tired.”
“I’m fine.”
Luke grinned.
“What?” Maeve’s eyelids flickered.
“You’re dozing. I really should be—”
“No, I’m just relaxing.” Rotating her shoulders, she yawned. “The fire’s so cozy, and listening to you read Marianna’s diary, I can visualize her defending their rights.” Waving him on, she leaned back. “Keep reading.”
Over the wind whistling through the chimney and the fire crackling and hissing, Luke detected another rhythmic sound. He glanced from the journal to Maeve and smothered a chuckle. She’s snoring—if I can call it that.
Her rosebud lips were slightly parted, and she gave a faint sigh each time she exhaled. Her body armor at rest as she slept, her face was as peaceful as moonlight on freshly fallen snow.
Snow… Careful not to wake her, he crossed to the window and peeked out.
Gale-force winds whipped the blustering snow, driving it into steep drifts that swallowed the hedges and hid the sidewalks. A car parked along Main Street was nearly buried beneath a white mantle.
Thinking of his truck, Luke groaned. How long will it take to dig out? He tiptoed behind her chair and into the lobby, where the night clerk watched captions on a muted television. “Any weather updates?”
The man glanced from the screen. “Blizzard’s worse. Between the snow, icy roads, and a three-car collision on route seventeen, all highways are shut down.”
“Doesn’t look like I’m getting home tonight.” Luke stifled a sigh. “Got any rooms left?”
“Nope. Sorry.” The clerk shook his head. “We’re booked solid.”
Luke ran his hand across his chin. Then he gestured to the armchairs with his thumb. “Mind if I camp out ’til the roads clear?”
“Under the circumstances? Not a problem.”
“Thanks.” He started toward the sitting room and nearly bumped into Maeve, leaning against the wall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” She tossed her chin. “I was cat-napping.”
“Right.” He compared her guarded veneer to her sleeping-beauty persona. Which is closer to her true self?
“Couldn’t help overhearing.” Gesturing toward the clerk with her chin, she grimaced. “I’m responsible for you being out tonight—”
“No.” He shook his head. “This is just a freak storm.”
“You don’t have to sleep in a chair.” She took a deep breath and gave a quick, tight-lipped smile. “My room has two queen beds, and you’re welcome to one of ’em.”
Unsure of the extent of her invitation, he did a double take.
“Just so we understand each other, this is a bunk, a place to sack out. Period. Amen.” She spoke in a low-pitched, no-nonsense voice. “Nothing more, so don’t get any—”
“Got it.” He covered his disappointment with a laugh. “Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine dozing by the fire.”
“Hey, I’ve bivouacked with soldiers in Afghanistan. I don’t mind sharing a room. We do what’s necessary under extenuating circumstances.” Shrugging, she glanced at the door. “And this blizzard qualifies.” Her face relaxed into a smile.
Her offer tempting; he compared sitting up all night to stretching out in a bed. Then he glimpsed the clerk. Her room’s right across from the front desk.