Page 38 of Cabin Mate

“I’ll check with Mildred to make sure she doesn’t need me tomorrow morning, but it should work.” Sliding off the bed, I start walking toward the closet before looking back at Brooks. “All right. My turn for a shower.” I feel a little awkward announcing the obvious, but it seems so weird to shower with Brooks right here in the next room.

Ducking inside the walk-in closet, I search for a modest pair of pajamas. I rummage through a myriad of luxurious, silk nightgowns that my mother stocked in the closet for me, and just as I’m about to panic, I find one set of flannel pajamas at the very bottom of the drawer. Thank goodness.

I toss them over my arm and make sure Brooks sees them when I walk out into the main bedroom and then the bathroom. He laughs when he sees the long, plaid fabric.

“You’re going to burn up in those things. I’m basically a heater.”

I give him an annoyed look then head into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Not that I think Brooks would barge in, but it makes me feel less vulnerable. Like I can pretend he isn’t just on the other side of that wooden door.

Showering quickly, I do my regular nighttime routine … moisturizer, deodorant, teeth brushing. Then I throw my pajamas on before launching into a pep talk in the mirror about how this isn’t weird at all. Lots of girls have muscular, male besties.

It’s totally not a big deal. I also curse my mother for not sticking to her usually strict rules about couples having separate bedrooms until marriage. Or at least putting king size beds in all the guest rooms.

When I open the door, I see Brooks sprawled out like a starfish on the bed, no longer underneath the covers.

I raise my eyebrows and he groans. “I’m so hot under these flannel sheets. Aren’t your parents rich enough to buy some one-million-thread-count Egyptian-cotton instead?”

“You’re such a spoiled baby,” I tell him, rolling my eyes and motioning for him to scoot over.

He raises up on his elbows. “Says the girl who has a butler.”

I slide under the covers and burrow into them, feeling perfectly warm and cozy. “It’s freezing outside! Flannel sheets are warm and comfortable!”

“Flannel sheets are for people who shop at Walmart.” He pouts. “Do you have some silk nighties I can sleep on?”

That makes me chuckle. “Actually, there’s a drawer full of those babies in the closet.”

He quirks a brow. “And you chose those?” He gestures to my plaid set.

“Not all of us are human heaters. I’m cold.”

He turns to lay on his side, facing me, then grabs a pillow and makes himself comfortable on top of the blankets. His arm muscles bulge as he grips the pillow, and his long, muscular legs stretch all the way to the end of the mattress.

I turn over so I don’t have to look at him. “Goodnight, Brooks,” I say in a tone that’s a warning to stop talking—er, whining.

He sighs. “Goodnight, muffin butt.”

Chapter 17

Brooks

Hearing my alarm ring, I groan. I could easily sleep until noon every day. But I have antiquing to do. I groggily reach for my phone and turn the alarm off. The sound of a hair dryer and then the clanking of cosmetic products comes from the bathroom.

“I guess Molly’s already up,” I whisper to myself.

Propping myself up to a seated position with pillows, I tap on my family group chat and see there are several missed texts from the group chat, and from Madden.

Windell Family group chat:

Sophie: Ahh, that makes sense!

Mom: You’ll be home in time for Christmas, right??

David: If I can fly home all the way from Europe, Brooks can fly home from Vermont.

Dad: Still seems fishy to me, but whatever you say.

I sigh … I suppose three out of four isn’t so bad. I tap out of the thread and read my separate messages from Madden.