Chapter 8The last thing Gideon expected was to wake up alone.
At three, when Jesse hadn’t returned from his errands yet, he’d looked meaningfully at Emma, her nose dusty, and said, “I’m going to take a nap.”
Translation?
Come to bed with me. I’m tired of cleaning.
Except she hadn’t come. And he must have been more tired than he thought because he actually fell asleep.
The clock he didn’t recognize on the nightstand Emma had picked out said it was eight-thirty. He could tell from the itch along his spine that the sun hadn’t quite gone down yet, but he didn’t want to linger in bed any longer. It was new, too, with the soft navy sheets he’d insisted they buy, but nobody had slept in it yet except for him. It still smelled of the store.
How the hell was he supposed to get any rest at all
