Finally Ours (Harborview #2)

20. Carter

20

CARTER

Angela and I go to bed early that night, in preparation for the early wakeup.

I can tell she’s already regretting saying we could go. She just grumbles when I ask her if she wants to watch any more of the movie, and she scowls even as she brushes her teeth.

I’m standing next to her in the bathroom brushing my own and I can’t help but smile as I do. This is what I’ve dreamed about having for the last five years—Angela by my side as I go through the motions of life, the smallest, most mundane activity reinvented as exciting just by her mere presence.

She spits her toothpaste out and rinses her mouth, once, twice, and again, and then rinses off the brush.

“Why are you staring at me?” she growls. She blows a curl out of her face and glares at me, like a tiny, angry lion.

“You’re cute when you brush your teeth,” I say, still grinning.

“Like hell I am,” she says. “You’re letting your excitement about the puffins tomorrow addle your brain, Steel.”

“Sure Angel, whatever you say.”

She raises her brows at me, but doesn’t leave the bathroom. Instead she watches as I finish brushing, as if she’s assessing for herself whether or not someone can be cute when they brush their teeth. I notice that her gaze travels past my face, downwards, taking in my bare chest, and landing on the place where the gray sweatpants I’ve changed into are hanging at my hips.

“You can keep going,” I say around the toothpaste in my mouth.

“No thanks,” my lioness says, shuffling past me to get to the door.

Even though I move out of the way, as she walks past, her hip knocks into me, and her shoulder brushes my bare chest.

Fuck.

Her skin is soft and warm, and one brush against her is enough to have me sporting a semi. I rinse my mouth out, splash cold water on my face, and take a few deep breaths. I think about the least sexy things possible. Rat tails. Wedgies. Granny panties.

Actually, grandmas don’t deserve my derision, and Angela would look hot as fuck in granny panties. I’ve always liked high waisted garments…

Fuck—I’m toast.

I give up and just hope the sweatpants are loose enough to cover any evidence of my hard on. I find Angela spread out face down on the bed, and I can’t help but laugh at how much annoyance she manages to project even when not moving.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she grumbles.

“Angela, I’m gonna make sure you sleep tonight, okay?”

She flips over onto her back and says, “How?”

“I’ll stay up with you until you fall asleep. We can talk.”

“It’s not a good idea for us both to be tired tomorrow.”

“Why not?” I shrug. “We’re not going to be driving the boat. And I'll be fine on a few hours.”

“I am too, normally,” she says. “I just get stressed out sleeping in new places.”

“Is there anything we can do to make it feel more like home for you?” I ask.

She thinks for a minute, and then says, “I could meditate.”

“Do you ever read before bed?” I ask, because I’m honestly curious. Angela doesn’t talk much about herself, and when she does, hobbies are never really a part of that.

“I used to,” she says. “But over the last year my job has just slowly consumed my life and I don’t feel like I have time for anything. I used to read more, and I used to paint. In college, I’d draw before I went to bed, just doodles in notebooks, but it helped keep my mind quiet.”

I’m filled with a sudden urge to fucking pummel her boss into the ground. Because there’s no reason why her job should be stopping her from doing what she enjoys, from having a life outside of work.

“Maybe you could meditate. And I think I saw a stack of paperbacks in here somewhere,” I say, reining in my anger.

Angela sits up and goes about setting herself up to meditate on the bed, using her phone to play some relaxing ambient music. I go around the room and turn all of the lights off until there’s only one dim, warm lamp on. I lay on the couch and get comfortable in the blankets, and silently thank God for letting me have something akin to a bed to sleep on tonight. I was happy on the floor for Angela’s sake but the entire time I was thinking about my massive king bed back in Harborview.

I scroll through my emails again while Angela meditates. I reread the job description of the teaching position my supervisor sent me. It is almost tailor-made for me. The requirements include experience leading undergraduate labs and lectures, both of which I’ve done, in addition to having experience with wildlife biology and conservation, which is exactly the field my PhD is in. They’d be stupid not to hire me—or at least not to interview me.

I could have it all: a job in my field close to Harborview and a life there with Angela. Both of those things are worth more than traveling the world to study birds. This is the more sensible route. I promise myself that I’ll work on the application as soon as we get back to Harborview as it’s due pretty soon. Angela must be finished meditating, because she switches the light off and settles into bed. I don’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt her peace, and lay down to sleep myself, hoping that she gets some as well.