I wrap my arms tighter around myself and walk toward him. “I’ll take one of the rooms upstairs.” I reach for my bags, but he places a hand on my arm, stopping me.
“The storm is really bad, and
I don’t feel good about letting you sleep upstairs. I don’t think it’s safe.”
He tosses the towel in the hamper in the corner. “I’ll go.”
My jaw drops. “You just said
it wasn’t safe, and you’re going?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well…”
I scoff. “Don’t be
ridiculous. I’ll take the couch out there.” I indicate vaguely toward the
direction of the great room.
“Bella,” he says, rolling his
eyes. “It’s freezing out there, even with the fire going.”
“I’ll take a blanket,” I tell
him, reaching again for the bags. My duffel is completely sodden, and it weighs
a ton. “I’ll be okay.”
“Wait,” he says, his voice
serious. “You could stay here. I mean, if you like.” He runs a hand through his
semi-dried hair. “It’s a big bed, and I promise I won’t try anything…”
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