She smiled, hoping he was telling the truth. She would like to go to Disneyland with Micah. Or anywhere. A couple of weeks in an uncrowded tropical resort was her favorite fantasy. Just them in a big hotel room with lots of walks on the beach and time in bed. Yeah, that would be fantastic.

“Shall we?” Micah asked, dropping his arm so he could take her hand. “It’s late, and you have work tomorrow.”

It wasn’t really late, but she didn’t protest. No way they were going to curl up on the couch and stream something. Not when he was here to specifically get into her bed. Not for, you know, but still, they were going to be lying down together. And, she assumed, cuddling. That should give her enough happy memories to last her well into her eighties.

She led the way into her bedroom. She’d turned off the overhead light and had left the nightstand lamps on. Micah was tall—thank goodness she had a king-size mattress.

“Which side?” he asked.

She felt herself blush. “Either works fine.”

He looked at her. “Dena, it’s your bed. Which side?”

“The right.”

He went around to the left and got in bed. She slid onto her side, not sure what to make of the moment. A month ago, if someone had told her she was going to be spending the night with Micah Ruiz, she wouldn’t have believed them. In part, she supposed, because she hadn’t known who Micah was, but that wasn’t the point. This was really happening!

He slid toward the center of the bed and relaxed on his back, with his arm out. The invitation was obvious. She was to get close to him, maybe put her head on his shoulder, maybe rest her hand on his chest. And while she had imagined doing that in her mind, she was less sure about making it happen in person.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

He laughed. “What do you want to do with them?”

The blush returned. “I meant that if I put my head on your shoulder, my right arm and hand need to go somewhere. I’m not sure I can rest them on my side, and I don’t know you well enough to, um, put them on you.”

“You’re a thinker.”

“I am. And bossy. It’s probably why I’m single.”

“You’re single because all the men you’ve met until now have been blind. And maybe because I’m a lucky SOB. Lie down.”

She did as he requested, moving close enough to put her head on his shoulder. He immediately took her hand and put it on his chest. As if they did this sort of thing all the time. As if they belonged together.