Chuckling quietly, John ushered her to the stairs. “I can’t help with the wine, but we can get some more sleep.”

“Unless someone else breaks in,” she grumbled, making a serious effort to keep her feet quiet. She was extremely tempted to stomp up the steps like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum, but Cara and Norah—and Warrant—had somehow miraculously managed to keep sleeping through all the commotion earlier. She didn’t want to wake them now and have to explain everything that had happened. All she wanted was to sleep, uninterrupted by sisters or dogs or burglars.

“True.” John sounded quite a bit more nonchalant about the idea than she felt. “Burglarizing your house seems to have become a trend recently.”

Making a sour face, she waved John toward her room before peeking in at Cara and Norah. Both were still down for the count, although how Norah could sleep clinging to the edge of her narrow bed while mattress-hog Warrant pressed huge feet into her back was a mystery.

Molly softly closed Norah’s bedroom door before turning around to find John waiting for her. The sight of him there, so steady and strong, sent a sense of comfort sweeping through her, pushing away her exhaustion and stress. She froze, caught in a strange moment of wondering if this was what it would be like to have a partner, someone who could have her back and prop her up when the weight of taking care of her family got unbearably heavy. It was an addictive, incredible feeling to have support, and she knew she had to be careful. He wasn’t here forever, just the night, and it would be stupid of her to start leaning on him. When he inevitably disappeared, she’d fall.

He eyed her curiously. “What?” he asked, his voice low.

Shaking off the longing for that moment to be a permanent reality, she brushed past him without speaking. She stayed silent, worried that something desperate and needy might slip out if she said anything. Sleep. She needed sleep to rebuild her walls and organize her thoughts, to tuck her hungry emotions back far enough that no one else could see them.

“What was that look?” John pressed as soon as they were in her room. He closed the door with a firm click that almost made her jump with its intimate finality.

“What look? There was no look.” She didn’t care that it was a lie. There was no way she could deal with an emotional discussion with John Carmondy right now. Meeting his gaze, she hoped desperately that he’d let it go.

His expression said clearly that he didn’t believe her, but—miracle of miracles—he did let it go and shimmied out of clothes until he was just in his underwear.

“Whoa!” She spun around to face the wall, but it was too late. The image of mostly naked John was burned into her brain. “Give me a little warning next time.”

“Next time?” The words were filled with laughter, and she remembered why she always had to fight the urge to shove him. “Aw, Pax. Is that your way of inviting me over for future sleepovers? An open invitation to turn any night into coed night, shall we say?”