In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(64)
“How about this one?” He held up a goofy comedy with no redeeming intellectual qualities at all.
Daisy grinned. “Perfect.”
*
Her eyes still closed against the invasive early morning light, Daisy shifted and held back a groan. Waking wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been after the night on the training room floor, but her muscles protested the awkward sleeping position. Her neck, especially, was twisted in an uncomfortable way, with her temple resting on something too hard to be even the worst of pillows.
As she slowly returned to consciousness, she frowned. In addition to her rocklike pillow, there was also a heavy weight over her side, and the back of her shirt was damp with sweat, thanks to the heater behind her. Everything combined was odd enough to make her open her eyes.
Blinking a few times until her gaze focused, she saw the coffee table and the TV beyond it. From that, she determined that she’d fallen asleep on the living room couch. It didn’t explain the source of heat behind her or the weight pressing on her lower ribs, however.
Lifting her head and wincing at the stiff muscles in her neck, she saw the male hand resting on her belly. Her body jerked in surprise, and the radiator behind her gave a sleepy, masculine grunt. Daisy turned her head the other way and saw that his arm, the one not draped over her waist, was the hard pillow.
Racking her brain, she remembered getting drowsy during movie number three. At that time, she’d been curled up in her corner of the couch, while Chris had been sitting on the middle cushion, just close enough that she’d been able to touch his leg with her drawn-up toes. Sometime during the night, they must’ve shifted into this position.
Before she could wrap her brain around the fact that she was spooning with Chris, the big spoon himself stirred behind her.
“’Morning,” he rumbled, and Daisy tried not to fixate on how raspy and deep his just-woken voice was.
“’Morning,” she echoed. Her voice, in contrast, was slightly shrill, and she buried her face into the cushion to prevent herself from saying anything else. Unfortunately, she ended up grinding her forehead against his arm. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she pulled up her head. For good measure, she rolled away from him. Unfortunately, the couch wasn’t that wide, and she toppled onto the floor.
As she lay on her back, blinking at yet another ceiling, she was thankful she at least hadn’t hit her head on the coffee table when she went over the edge. She’d rather not be unconscious in front of Chris again—or be unconscious at all, really.
His blond head appeared, blocking her view of the ceiling. His hair was flattened on the right side of his head, and a slight scruff had grown in overnight. It didn’t seem quite fair that his sleep-mussed state made him more attractive, rather than less. Daisy was pretty sure her current look was more “hot mess” than “hot.”
“You okay?” he asked, still with that gravelly voice.
“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “Just used to a wider bed.”
His lips curled in response. “Me too.” He pushed himself off the couch and stood, carefully placing his feet so he straddled her legs before he extended both arms. When she placed her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet. Once she was upright, he kept hold of her until she was steady. In fact, he didn’t let go until she squeezed his hands and gently pulled hers free so she could reach over her head to try to loosen up her stiff muscles.
“Thanks.” Her full-body stretch was accompanied by a yawn. “Want to hit the gym before breakfast?”
“No.” His newly awake expression had been replaced by his bossy one. “And neither are you. It’s a rest day.”
She folded forward to stretch her hamstrings and her back, hiding her face against her knees. Despite her position, Chris must have caught her grimace, since he continued lecturing—either that, or he just liked to lecture her.
“You need to let the muscle fibers repair themselves. That’s the only way you’ll grow stronger.” She’d heard this so many times, she could’ve mouthed the words along with him, but she didn’t. He’d just spent the night with her because she’d asked, and he was training her and her new entourage without complaint, so he didn’t deserve her teasing. Besides, she knew he was right. “If you work out every day, you’re not getting the full benefit of your training, and you’re just asking for an injury.”
Straightening, she couldn’t help giving him a mock-pout. “I hate rest days. They make me antsy.”
“I know.” To her shock, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steer her to the kitchen. Spooning and now side hugging—Chris had gotten oddly touchy-feely in the past twelve hours. Daisy figured she might as well take advantage of it while it lasted, so she leaned into his side, surprised once again when he didn’t pull away. “But just think how antsy you’d get if you couldn’t work out for weeks because you’d injured something by overtraining.”
“Yes, boss.” She sighed, pretending like her interest in working out hadn’t flown right out the window the minute he’d put his arm around her. “Breakfast then?”
“Sure.”
Since the stove was out of commission until the gas-line issue was worked out, they ended up eating cold cereal while sitting on the kitchen counter. Instead of his usual position across the room from her, Chris had hopped up next to her, adding to the morning’s oddities. Daisy wasn’t complaining, though—she’d take this relaxed, affectionate mood over weird Chris any day.