“I guess I haven’t found the right one yet,” she shrugged.
“Lame answer, Krista.”
“That’s the real answer, Gunner.” She smirked at him.
“I doubt it.”
“What about you, huh?” She sat up a little bit and tried to stare him down, but his dark eyes didn’t waver one bit.
“What about me?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
He folded his arms, and each bicep expanded like a python. “No, I’m not.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, “I found that I couldn’t trust any of the women I met in Las Vegas.”
That comment hit home like an arrow to her chest. She felt it physically, a blow that nearly knocked her backwards. Her smile faded. “That makes sense,” she muttered softly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow creasing.
She put a hand to her head. “I just got a bit of a headache.”
“Look, it’s been a long day,” he said, standing up now. “Why don’t you go to bed?”
“I’ll stay on the couch.”
“No, Krista. Come on, you can stay in my bed and I’ll crash out here.”
She felt awful. He was being amazing to her, and here she was continuing to lie and lie and lie. It just wasn’t right. But how could she possibly come clean to him now, after so many lies?
Her head really had begun to pound.
Gunner showed her to his room, which was small and sparse and relatively neat.
There was a bed that was large enough for Gunner to sleep in it, a dresser, and a large chest in the corner of the room.
“Come on, lie down,” he urged her.
“I don’t even have a change of clothes,” she whined. She felt like a little kid—
cranky, wounded, upset. She wanted vaguely to throw a tantrum. She wanted to cry and stomp her feet.
“I’ll give you a t-shirt, and my clothes are big enough that it should do nicely as a nightgown.”
“Okay,” she said, falling into bed and crawling up towards the pillow. She was so tired and mentally worn down that she didn’t even care anymore if Gunner thought she was being silly.
The bed smelled like Gunner, and she really liked that. She smiled a little, snuggling into his pillow, grateful that he was letting her sleep there after all.
Gunner rummaged through his dresser drawers and found a t-shirt, tossing it next to her on the bed. “You can wear that for tonight,” he told her.
“Thank you,” she sighed. “Thanks for everything, Gunner. You amaze me.”
He laughed. “Okay. Get some rest, now.”
“I’m going to.”
He chuckled again, leaving the room and closing the door.
It was mostly dark now, but Krista could hear him moving around in the cabin, and it made her feel safe and comforted. Although she was completely spent, she pulled off her clothes and slid on his t-shirt.
The t-shirt made her feel even closer to him. She was completely bare underneath it, and she wrapped herself in his blankets and pressed her face into his pillow, wishing that he could be here with her, holding her close as she fell asleep.
***
Someone was yelling outside.
Krista startled awake, her heart pounding, the darkness of the bedroom confusing her momentarily.
An overwhelming sense of fear took hold of her body and she almost screamed.
But then she remembered where she was, and her heartbeat slowed a fraction.
Still, the moaning and yelling continued just outside the bedroom door. It wasn’t very loud after all. Was it his computer or something? Was he watching television?
She realized that she didn’t actually know this man very well. What if something was actually wrong with him…mentally?
Krista got out of bed and padded slowly to the door, opening it ever so quietly, and peering out into the rest of the cabin.
It was very dim, but some light was coming in from the moon and stars through the cabin windows—just enough for her to make out the shapes of the furniture.
Nobody was up and about.
And then came the yelling again. It was Gunner, she realized. He was on the couch, thrashing around in his sleep. She could tell he was having some kind of horrible nightmare.
His screams weren’t full throated, but almost seemed to be coming from a distance. They were clearly the screams of someone experiencing awful, horrible dreams.
She walked slowly over to the couch. As Krista’s eyes adjusted further to the room, she saw that Gunner was only wearing his boxers. His body was even more incredible than she’d thought from seeing him without his shirt on. Every muscle was toned and tight and perfect.
But even as her eyes took in his magnificence, she was still worried by his tossing and turning and moaning.
She wasn’t sure whether to simply let him continue sleeping, or if she should try and wake him.
After a few more seconds, he seemed to calm down and grow still and peaceful.
But then, out of nowhere, he started shouting worse than ever, and his arms were pushing at the couch.
She couldn’t let him go on like that.
Krista walked around the couch and knelt down beside him. “Gunner,” she whispered. “Gunner, wake up.”
He was still crying out in his sleep. Krista was unsure of the right way to handle it—she’d heard it was bad to wake sleepwalkers—but then again, he wasn’t sleepwalking, just having a nightmare.
She put her hands on his back and tried to soothe him. His back was warm and she felt a little sense of vertigo touching his naked skin this way.
“It’s okay,” she said softly.
Suddenly, he spun around and his eyes snapped open, his hand reaching up and grabbing her wrist with catlike reflexes. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.
She cried out in surprise and tried to jump away from him, but he was still holding her wrist, not letting go. “Stop it, Gunner.”
He sat up on the couch. “Why were you touching me?” His voice was flat and accusing.
“You were having a nightmare and I was worried.
