“So why are you demanding you sleep in it?”
“I’m not demanding anything,” Gideon refuted.
“You’re always demanding stuff. Do this, Rowan, do that, Rowan.”
“Of course I do, you’re my PA—”
“Do the other, Rowan, fetch me coffee, Rowan, sleep in the chair, Rowan.”
“Wait, I never said you had to sleep in the chair—”
“Yes, you did. In your thought bubble.”
“I don’t have a freaking thought bubble,” Gideon argued.
“You do, and right now it’s a very angry and upset one, so I’m in the chair. You take the comfortable huge solid bed where you can sprawl out and sleep.” He sniffed and brought the blanket higher. “I’ll stay here, even if takes a while to sleep.”
“Don’t do me any favors—”
“It may take me some time but—”
“Jesus, Rowan, you sound like you’re making a huge sacrifice like freaking Scott of the Antarctic when he went out of the tent.”
“People get that wrong. It wasn’t Scott. It was Lawrence Oates, and he was a hero. But then he was thirty-one so maybe with his younger bones, he would have been okay in this chair.”
“Fuck,” Gideon snapped. “Why do you turn everything into a circle of nonsense.”
Rowan raised a single eyebrow then huffed. “If you weren’t so annoying I wouldn’t have to.” Then he closed his eyes, and hell, he thought he’d had the last word.
“You’re fired.”
Rowan snorted. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m ordering you to get in the bed, Rowan.”
Without opening his eyes, he shook his head again. “That’s highly inappropriate from a boss to his PA,” Rowan countered.
“For God’s sake—”
“You’re not sleeping in the chair, you’ll put your back out.”
“Rowan—”
“Gideon…” Rowan cut him off.
“You are possibly the most exasperating, frustrating, annoying—”
“Those are all the same thing,” Rowan interrupted again and opened his eyes. “Your thought bubbles are tired, so go to sleep, Gideon.”
Gideon made enough noise to wake the dead, pissed that he’d got himself riled up. No one except Rowan got him all messed up like that. Gideon took it out on his toiletry bag, his case, his shoes, all of his clothes, and deliberately took his shorts and a shirt into the bathroom to change, making noise in there as well.
I don’t have a thought bubble right now. He was lying to himself. Then he went out, climbed into the comfortable bed, switched off the light, and pulled the covers up and over him. It was cold in the cabin, even with the heat on. Rowan must be really chilly.
“Do you want another blanket?” Gideon asked even though he’d promised he wouldn’t talk anymore.
“I’m good.”
Gideon rolled over on his side, facing the door, away from Rowan, and counted backward from a hundred. He only made it to thirty-seven and then gave up. He’d listened to Rowan move, heard the rustle of his blanket, and the squeak of the chair, and it was ridiculous that two grown men couldn’t share a space as big as this bed.
“Rowan, get in the bed.”
“Gideon—”
“We’ll put pillows down the middle, we can share a damn bed.” He sat up and switched on the light, just as Rowan clambered off the chair and stretched.
And there it was. Rowan in pajama bottoms, no shirt, his chest right there, his dusky nipples, the dark hair on his chest and then hair from the top of his pants, down…and down.
He brought the pillows with him seemingly unworried about his lack of shirt, or his stretching, or the way that Gideon got an eyeful of his PA’s groin where the soft material draped. Rowan placed the pillows in the middle under the quilt and then reached for one of Gideon’s and used it for himself before curling on his side away from Gideon, leaving only the very top of his head visible.
Gideon turned off the light and positioned himself so he was looking at the window and not Rowan. He tried to fall asleep, but Rowan had been right. Gideon did have a mess of thought bubbles.
I’m in the same bed as Rowan.
I’m hard.
And if Rowan notices, then I’m fucked.
Seven
Rowan
There was the sound of birds on the roof. Scratching, scraping, the noise of clawed feet overhead stirred Rowan awake. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry, and the taste of stale alcohol was on his tongue.
I only had two beers. Maybe rather than an alcohol-induced hangover it was the fallout from yesterday’s adrenaline rush called family. Or the fact he had shared a bed for the night with his boss.
Ah, that really happened. Didn’t it.
He hadn’t fallen asleep easily. In the otherwise silent, darkened room, it was as if Rowan’s senses had been suddenly heightened. Surrounded by the scent of home, Rowan could make out Gideon’s cologne, mixing to become something more comfortable than he had ever imagined, and it unnerved him. Every sound Gideon made crept through Rowan’s body and excited his imagination. He pictured Gideon’s slightly parted lips as he listened to Gideon’s steady breath and the occasional quiet sleepy sounds interrupting its rhythm. He remembered Gideon’s legs, imagined them sliding over the mattress as the bed dipped and the bed sheets rustled when Gideon moved.
It really wasn’t easy.
With a sigh, he opened his eyes.
Gideon. Rowan’s eyes widened, and he jerked back. Gideon’s face had been close. Too close. He studied his boss’s features. Gentle yet strong. Ah, my weakness.
He rolled onto his back, hung his leg over the side of the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. What time was it? He arched his neck and reached for his phone, pawing at it until he managed to twist it so he could grab hold properly.
The brightness of the screen in the dim room made him squint. It was a little after seven.
“Too early,” he uttered and rested his phone on his chest. Yawning, he considered what to do. He imagined his moms would already be awake. Even though there were no longer kids to rally for a school run, he imagined the dogs needed attention.
Rowan rolled his head as Gideon shifted beside him.
Is he awake?
Gideon curled up his legs, buried his chin in the barrier pillow as he mumbled in his sleep.
What was that? Luke? A name? Rowan tapped his fingers on the back of his cell phone and watched Gideon. A dream maybe? If it was, it must have been a good one. Gideon’s expression was a peaceful one.
I shouldn’t disturb him.
He couldn’t remember the last time Gideon had taken any kind of significant leave or vacation time from the company, and every morning he would be in the office ahead of Rowan, waiting.
Another yawn made Rowan’s eyes water, and he carefully sat up. “I am a ninja,” he whispered to himself. “Maybe.” The chances of him not disturbing Gideon were slim, but he took great effort to quietly move about the room, quickly washing his face, dressing, then slipping out of the cabin.
He winced as he pulled the door shut and was relieved to finally be outside. Operation Ninja had seemingly been a success.