Trail of Hope (Hot on the Trail Book 2) by Farmer Merry

Author:Farmer, Merry [Farmer, Merry]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Published: 2014-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Sunlight cut down through tiny holes in the canopy and the sounds of the camp were already humming by the time Callie pried her eyes open. She hadn’t slept so well in months. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been that exhausted in months. Cleaning up after a tornado was tiring work. Maybe it was the safety of sleeping in the wagon instead of on the ground, although it was still a far cry from sleeping in a real bed. Or maybe it was the comfort of direct physical contact with John.

John was still asleep on his back, Callie curled against him. She’d twisted during the night onto her stomach, wedged up against him, her leg curved over his, her face close to his shoulder. Her hand rested on his chest, which rose and lowered softly as he slept. Still half asleep, Callie snuggled closer and smiled.

She liked John’s scent. It was rich and sharp with sweat, but still comforting. Familiar. Being close to him, touching him, was right and natural. The way things were supposed to be. Her hazy mind wondered what it would be like to touch more of him, to sneak her hand under his shirt to see what his bare chest felt like, to see if his stomach was soft or hard. Her hand inched across the buttons of his shirt to find out. Swirls of warmth zipped through her, centering in deep, excitable places that urged her to snuggle closer and explore.

With a sharp intake of breath she opened her eyes wide and sat up. What was she thinking?

She’d jolted John awake with her sudden movements. “Wha?” he mumbled as he wiped his bleary eyes.

Callie’s heart thumped as she watched him, disheveled and unshaven, but somehow as handsome as she’d ever seen him. Were those the thoughts she should be having about him? She scooted to the back of the wagon seat to see if her clothes were dry, aware of her body in all the wrong places.

“Good morning.” John sat and stretched, reaching for his glasses on the crate where he’d set them the night before.

“Good morning.” Callie smiled over her shoulder. Her tricky heart refused to slow. What was wrong with her? Why on earth did she feel like she’d been caught doing something wrong? “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” he replied, sliding his glasses on. He groaned as he pushed himself to his knees and stretched. “You?”

“Fine. How’s your back today?”

“Stiff.” He answered then laughed, shaking his head.

Knowing that his silliness from the night before was still there put Callie more at ease. She picked up her clothes and shook them out. They needed to be washed. Everything needed to be washed.

“If Mr. Evans plans to give us another day here to set things right, I think I’ll try to do laundry.”

“Sounds good.” She heard him stand, hunched over since the canopy wasn’t very tall. “I’m sure they’ll need me to help repair wagons.

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