She smirked. “Or get nightmares from it.”
“True,” he said with a solemn nod. “If I start having to leave the lights on at night, I’m out.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re the scaredy-cat type.” She flicked her hand toward him, indicating his general size. “You ooze frailty.”
He smiled a truly wolfish grin. “Delicate like a flower.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I do have a hard line though,” he warned. “No bug movies, especially spiders.”
She lifted her hands. “Got it. My hard line is torture movies.”
He looked surprised. “So the horror writer is afraid of some things, huh?”
She scoffed. “Hill, the horror writer is afraid of all the things. That’s why I can write it so well. You can’t write horror if you don’t know fear.”
He frowned at her attempt to be flippant. But before Mr. FBI Profiler wannabe could dig deeper on that, she began to list movie categories they should sample first—slasher classics, possession movies, teen horror.
But she only made it halfway through the list before she could feel exhaustion hitting her. Hill got up to grab them another beer, and she settled back on the couch, but she didn’t remember him bringing it back.
By the time the sun started to peek through the blinds, she’d dozed off on the couch, a half-written list in front of her, and Hill had zonked out in her way-too-comfortable recliner.
He’d broken her rule. He’d slept over.
She’d broken her own. She’d let him.
Chapter Eight
Something warm touched Andi’s shoulder, and she vaguely registered that she should look into that, maybe open her eyes, but right now she was floating on a boat in the middle of a lake, the sun warm on her, the sound of lapping water in her ears. She couldn’t remember where she was. A vacation? Summer camp? She hoped it wasn’t summer camp. The scene suddenly felt a lot like the final scene in Friday the 13th. No. That couldn’t be it. She was fine. She was safe…
Wait, was she naked?
“Andi.” A deep, melodic voice floated into her ears. Pressure on her shoulder.
She clenched the side of the boat, the thing rocking beneath her, fear leaking in. “No.”
“Andi.” Louder this time.
She opened her eyes, the bright sky blinding her for a moment, and then a hand burst out of the water and grabbed her, tipping the boat, and—
A scream ripped out of her, and her body jolted upright, the sky disappearing and her head whacking into something hard.
“Shit,” the deep voice said.
“Ow.” Andi’s vision cleared as she reached for the stinging spot on her head, and a handsome, wincing face came into view. No lake. No hand. No summer camp. “Hill?”
Her neighbor looked chagrined, sitting there on the edge of her couch cushion, as he rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You all right?”
She shifted to sit up fully, the whole thing still feeling like a dream. The sun shining through the curtains. Her neighbor’s hip pressed up against her thigh. “My head hurts.”
“I’ve heard headbutting people has that side effect.” He lowered his hand, revealing a reddening spot on his forehead.
She hissed in empathy and reached out to push his hair away from the spot. “Oof, sorry. I think I was having a nightmare.”
“Yeah, you were mumbling. I wouldn’t have woken you, but I need to get back to my place, and I didn’t want to leave you without letting you know. Or leave your door unlocked.”
Andi lowered her hand, the night coming back to her along with a ripple of anxiety. “Oh. Right.”
Hill shifted to the other side of the couch so his hip was no longer pressed against her. “Your head okay?”
She touched the spot on her forehead again to make sure she wasn’t bleeding. “I’ll live. I’m sorry I headbutted you. What time is it?”
“Almost eight. I wanted to get on the phone early to make sure I can get the locks changed and maybe the alarm installed today,” he said, his voice still groggy from their late night.
Their late night. Jesus. The reality of that rushed over her. She’d fallen asleep with a stranger in her house. A guy had slept over. “You stayed the night.”
He scrubbed a hand over his bearded jaw. “Yeah, sorry about that. You nodded off, and I didn’t want to wake you, but I also didn’t want to leave without telling you. I guess I fell asleep eventually, too. My night-shift muscles must’ve atrophied. I used to be able to pull all-nighters with no problem.”
She tugged her afghan around her shoulders, chilled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”
His lips lifted at the corner. “It’s fine. I wish it hadn’t been under these circumstances, but I enjoyed hanging out. Plus, I got a fake girlfriend out of it.”
A little laugh slipped out at that. Girlfriend. The word being directed at her sounded both foreign to her ear and enticing in his voice. “Should we take a pic together with our bedheads so you can put it on your Facebook? Because dollars to doughnuts your ex still follows you there.”
“Nah. We’re good.”
She shifted on the couch. “Did I dream that you agreed to do a few podcast episodes with me?”
He gave her a don’t-try-it look. “I agreed to watch horror movies with you and to bring snacks. That is the extent of our contract.”
“Right, right, right,” she said, nodding firmly. “Of course.”
He touched his head gingerly again. “Well, I better get going. You need anything before I head out?”
“Let’s see, Chef. A three-egg cheese omelet with sliced tomatoes and sprinkle of chives on the side. A glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Maybe some biscuits with fresh churned—”
He laughed and pushed up off the couch. “Goodbye, Andi.”
She stood, letting the afghan fall away. “Wait.”
He turned to her.
Before she could think better of it, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hug. Hill froze for a moment, arms stiff by his sides, but then his muscles relented and he returned the embrace.
“Thank you for last night.” She squeezed him, finding the guy didn’t have any give. He was solid as a wall. “It was above and beyond.”
He cleared his throat and patted her back awkwardly. “It was no problem.”