“Har har.”
“Fine.” I left her in the bathroom and headed to my dresser, where I found a clean t-shirt. “Here,” I said, returning to her.
She looked down at it, then up at me again. I liked the way she looked. Sleepy and a little less than perfect as if the shift and the late night had worn down her armor.
“Thanks,” she said, staring at it and then me again until I got the hint.
“You do realize I’ve already seen you naked, right?”
“That’s different. Go away.”
Shaking my head, I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
Two minutes later, Naomi stood in the doorway in my t-shirt. She was tall, but the shirt still covered her to mid-thigh. Her face was scrubbed clean, and she’d pulled part of her hair up and back in a small knot on top of her head.
The girl next door was about to crawl into my bed. I knew it was a mistake. But it was one I wanted to make. Just this once.
We traded places, with Naomi slipping into m
y bedroom and me commandeering the bathroom to remove my contacts from my bleary eyes.
Running on fumes, I snapped off the bathroom light and crossed to my side of the bed. She was on her back, arms tucked under her head, staring up at the ceiling. I killed the bedside light and stripped in the dark, throwing my clothes in the direction of the dirty laundry pile.
I dragged back the blankets and finally fell into bed with a sigh. I waited a beat, staring up at the darkness. This didn’t have to mean anything. This didn’t have to be another string, another knot.
“You good?” I asked.
“My pillow smells weird,” she said, sounding disgruntled.
“You’re sleeping on Waylon’s side.” I pulled the pillow out from under her head, then threw mine at her.
“Hey!”
“Better?”
I heard her sniff the pillow. “Better,” she agreed.
“Night, Naomi.”
“Good night, Knox.”
I woke to a thud, a yelp, and a curse.
“Naomi?” I rasped, unglueing my eyelids. She came into a soft focus at the foot of the bed, where she was performing some kind of gymnastics to get her skirt back on.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I need to shower before I go to Liza’s for breakfast.
“There’s a shower here,” I pointed out, rising on an elbow to watch her drag her shirt on inside out.
“But I need fresh clothes and mascara. A hair dryer. Go back to sleep, Knox. There’s no need for us both to be walking zombies.”
Blearily I glared at the time on my phone. 7:05 a.m. Four hours didn’t really count as spending the night with a woman, I decided.
The appeal of being a bachelor was the fact that my days were dictated by me. I didn’t have to work around anyone else’s plans or not do what I wanted to do just so they could do what they wanted.
But it seemed unfair even to me that Naomi should have to spend the day running on fumes while I slept in. Besides, breakfast did sound good.
My feet hit the floor with a thump.