Bent over the bed, I looked to him, focused on him, saw he had not moved, and stated, “I’m stupid, dreamer, happy Rosalie right now, Snap. Please don’t mess it up.”

“You’re not drunk,” he noted.

“No,” I confirmed.

“Honey—”

“Don’t,” I whispered.

In the dark lit generously from the huge window behind the bed, we stared into each other’s eyes for long moments before he reminded me quietly, “We haven’t had our conversation.”

“You’re messing it up,” I said quietly back.

“I’m not that guy,” he informed me.

“You’re still messing it up,” I shared.

“Help me out here, Rosie, ’cause you mean the world to me and I don’t wanna do dick to fuck my chances of having a shot with you.”

Okay.

God.

Just when I thought he couldn’t get better.

He got better.

“Then don’t leave me tonight. Because tonight has been perfect. Mom was happy. I was happy. We haven’t had a perfect night since Dad got sick. The only thing that could make it not perfect is you leaving me to sleep alone. I’m not talking about anything else. Just sleeping and not doing it alone.”

“All right, baby, you want that, I gotta know, the dawn comes, you aren’t gonna be pissed I took advantage.”

“We’re gonna sleep. There won’t be any advantage to take,” I replied.

“Sleeping together is an intimacy, Rosie, no matter what happens, or doesn’t, when you’re doin’ it,” he informed me softly.

I loved he thought that.

God.

Better and better.

“The dawn will not bring that for you, Everett,” I whispered.

It took him several very long seconds to make his decision.

He made the right one when he pulled off his thermal and let it fall to the floor.

Rather than stare at his chest and perhaps start drooling, I crawled into bed.

I watched as, drawn by moonlight, his beautiful body in gray boxer briefs got in the other side.

He settled on his back.

I scooted toward him and settled into him.

He shoved an arm under me and curled me closer.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah,” he answered decisively.

“Maybe this isn’t fair,” I muttered, having second thoughts.

“Rosie, honey, you put me here, you change your mind now, you’re gonna have to pry me out.”

I smiled against his pec and draped my arm across his abs.

They were tight.

They felt nice.

“How much do you work out?” I asked.

“Enough.”

“Enough for your average shmoe or enough for a semi-pro middleweight boxer?”

“Classed light heavyweight, Rosie.”

I lifted my head and looked to his face in the moonlight.

“You box?”

“No. But I know the divisions and I’m not middleweight.”

“Oh.”

I saw him grin in the silver beams. “How much you work out?”

“Nine hours a shift.”

He chuckled.

“No, seriously,” I told him.

His fingers started drawing a pattern on my hip. “When you go back?”

“They told me to call when I’m ready. I think I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Ribs good enough for that?”

“I’m not supposed to do much to aggravate my torso, so I won’t be carrying a tray for a while, but they said they’d put me behind the bar.”

“They like you,” he murmured.

“I’m likable,” I teased.

His hand gripped my hip. “Yeah, you are.”

I settled again into his pec.

“Those ribs, baby, you should sleep on your back,” he noted.

“I’m here, you’re gonna have to pry me away.”

His body shook gently with his humor but his arm around me got tighter.

It felt sweet.

“These mattresses are super-comfortable,” I remarked.

“Rosie?” he called.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“You were dead to the world and barely able to maneuver the stairs ten minutes ago.”

“Is that biker speak for you’re tired and want me to shut up?” I asked.

“Pretty much,” he told me.

I smiled against his pec.

We both fell silent and it was Snap that broke it.

He did it careful. He did it gentle.

He did it Snap.

“You scared of bein’ alone, honey?” he asked.

Man, it was crazy how well he knew me.

“A little,” I whispered.

He gently rolled me toward him so I was more full-frontal against his side, murmuring, “I got you.”

I closed my eyes tight.

I had not been “got” in a really long time.

I did not want to be one of those women who could not do without a man.

But I feared I was one of those women who couldn’t do without a man.

Or, alternately, I lost the man who had me my whole life, and like Mom said, I’d gone reeling. And at the time when I was ready to attempt to stand on my own two feet, God had thrown into my path the man who was perfect for me.