A red leather sofa hugged the back wall, chrome legs curling under it like claws. Beside it, black, lacquered end tables squatted, one of them holding a lamp with a hula girl painted on it. Two Jetsons-looking white, futuristic chairs flanked the fireplace, and the sign over the mantel read, “Eat at Joe’s” in bright neon lettering. The floor was covered in a zebra-striped rug, and, to the right, the kitchen was tiled in black and white checkers, an old, turquoise fifties-style stove sitting in the corner.

Despite the day I’d had, I felt the corners of my mouth tilting upward. Who knew Cal had such personality?

“Guest room’s down the hall,” he said, dropping his keys in an olive green ashtray near the door as he led the way. “Sue, you can take that one,” he offered. “Tina can sleep in my room.”

I felt my cheeks rush with heat, instantly remembering how close together our lips had been earlier that night. “Oh, I’m not sure that’s—” I started.

“I’ll take the couch.”

Oh. Right.

“No, I don’t want to put you out. I’m fine on the couch, thanks,” I protested.

But Cal ignored me, taking my bag and leading the way to a room at the end of the hall. He flipped on the light.

I’m not sure what I had expected Cal’s bedroom to look like. Maybe a few guns, posters of Rambo on the walls, camouflaged bedding. But, instead, I found myself in your average bachelor bedroom. A comforter in dark navy, a black dresser in the corner, hamper just slightly overflowing with dirty laundry. The only thing that wasn’t average was the larger than life fuzzy velvet portrait of Elvis on the wall.

I smirked.

“You have something against the King?” Cal asked.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without giggling.

“Good.” He grinned. “I’ll put some fresh towels in the bathroom. Let me know if you need anything else.”

With that, he backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. I could hear him rummaging in the linen closet as I slipped out of my jeans and turned off the light, sliding between the sheets.

Cal’s sheets.

They were cool and smooth beneath my skin, and I was suddenly hyper aware that Cal’s bare skin had touched this same place.

I got up and put my jeans back on, then slid in again. Not that it helped. I could smell his aftershave on the pillow. Subtle, just a whisper of woodsy scent. But there. So very there. I inhaled, burying my face in it. And felt myself relax, the tension, adrenaline, and worry of the day slipping away as I melted into his pillow.