Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(62)

“No, I never thought that. The only reason I went along with Cash is because you were hurt. You needed time to heal, and how waking up in a stranger’s house scared you half to death. I saw how you were. So when Cash mouthed off like a royal idiot and said that shit, I went along. Couldn’t stand the thought of messin’ you up more.”

God, does he hear himself? Doesn’t he know those broad shoulders, those hellfire eyes, those conflicted, throaty words mess me up in ways I can’t even contemplate?

“Messed up. Right. So I guess that’s why you kissed me.” I bite my tongue. Too late. It’s already out of my mouth.

“That was a damn mistake. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Lovely. I pinch my lips together.

It shouldn’t so much, but it stabs at my heart anyway.

I don’t want to be a damn mistake, but...

But, holy hell, I don’t know what I want to be.

“You’re right,” I mutter.

He stands up taller, stretching his arms over his head, then lets out a yawn. “Fuck. It’s been a long day. We should probably turn in, too.”

“Probably,” I agree, dreading what kind of dreams a day like this is bound to leave behind.

I’d woken up this morning believing I was flipping married.

And if I wasn’t so brain-stuck, I would’ve gone right along with him when he’d said I had a stepson, too.

But I hadn’t.

Bryce was a bridge too far, something I knew I’d remember. Then again, being married to him should’ve been a dead giveaway. Just how gullible am I?

When I get up, I realize I’m still wearing my swimsuit under the sun dress I’d thrown on before dinner. “I think I’ll shower first,” I tell him.

“Good idea. Sleep tight, Val,” Flint says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Um, hey, wait...” I’m halfway across the room before I pause awkwardly. It dawns on me that we’d shared the bed the past couple of nights. His bed. “Is there a guest room I can use?”

He stops mid-stride, whipping his eyes back to me, the same recognition smoothing his face. “Oh. Yeah. No. I mean...shit.”

“Huh? What’s wrong?” I ask.

Flint looks down at the floor, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “We’ve got ourselves a dilemma. I’ve got two spare rooms, but seeing how we just moved in here a couple months ago, I haven’t had time to get ’em furnished yet.”

“Oh. No prob, I can sleep on the floor.”

“That’s a big hell no. I’ll take Bryce’s room. He’s still got a set of old bunk beds he uses for sleepovers, even though I think he spends too many nights on his futon now.”

I give him a solid once-over, shaking my head. “You? Scrunched up in a bunk bed?”

“I’ve done it before,” he says with a laugh. “Took a nap in an empty fucking fuel tank once on a mission, curled up like a cat. Thank God there was enough ventilation.”

I can’t imagine.

“Look, I’ll just sleep out here on the couch. It’s not the end of the world.”

“No. You need your beauty sleep, Val. Solid rest. The only place you’re gonna sleep is in that bed.” He storms over and lays his palm against the small of my back, spinning me around so quickly and so gently I barely realize it’s happened. “Now, go. Sleep. I’ll see you for breakfast.”

“Flint. Be real. I can’t put you out of your own bed,” I say, anchoring my feet to the ground. “You’re already going above and beyond. This is nuts. It’s huge. We could even...”

Share sticks on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t get it out.

I feel like I’ve been hit in the face with an awkward stick.

Here we are, standing chest to chest, chin to nose, and my insides are melting down almost as quickly as they had earlier.

He steps aside, an impressive mask on his face. “You aren’t putting me out of my bed. I am. Big difference, babe. It’s my choice, my digs, so I make the rules. Now scat, lady. No more lip.”

“But I just—”

“Val.”

Oh, God. There’s just something about the way he says my name in this stormy, bossy way that saps the fight right out of me. I’d call him an ogre, but no make-believe grump ever looked this good or cared this much about some random girl missing her marbles.

I take a step forward but say it anyway. “I feel pretty guilty.”

“Don’t.”

I want to tell him it’s a big bed, like I had the very first night, but my reasons would be different tonight. Maybe my memory hasn’t returned, but I know myself, and I know what I’d want to do once he was in that bed next to me.

“Okay. Fine. Good night,” I say, heading off to the bedroom before I reveal anything else about myself that I’m not totally prepared to deal with right now.

In the bedroom, I find my pj’s and then take a shower.

Walking out of the bathroom, I stare at the bed.

It’s freaking huge. King-sized. Six full-grown adults could sleep in it without so much as touching.

“Stop it,” I hiss to myself, tossing back the covers so I can climb in.

I click off the bedside lamp and stare at the ceiling, marveling at how the moonlight shining off the ocean reflects through the glass. The shadows it casts through the French doors dance across the ceiling like fairies fluttering around.