Sleeping ’til Sunrise Read Free

breaking my firmly laid-out rules, I would have been more than happy to follow my daughter’s prompt to ask him out. But as it was, he—and every other available man in Mangrove—was off-limits.
    “Good morning,” I greeted him softly, my voice warm as I leaned in close, whispering, my breath on Roark’s ear.
    He shivered, and I was surprised that he kept his focus forward instead of turning to look at me.
    “Roark?”
    The answering whimper was sweet. He finally turned to me. “Yeah?”
    Not quite the response I was expecting, but as his gaze met mine over his shoulder, and his lips parted, I found myself lost in his dark eyes. They were a beautiful green-black color, and when he laughed, which was rare, they sparkled. I knew I wasn’t the only one who noticed, as often as I’d seen strangers transfixed on the street when he stopped to talk.
    “Essien?”
    I coughed quickly. “So why do you look like you slept in your clothes?”
    He took a breath before glancing away. “I didn’t sleep.”
    “Should I be sorry or not?” I chuckled, surprised.
    “Oh, no, not like that,” he grumbled. “God, I wish.”
    “Pardon me?”
    His groan was tired.
    “Roark?” The tremble that ran through his long, lean-muscled frame was noticeable. I took hold of his shoulder and turned him around to face me. “What’s wrong?”
    He cleared his throat. “It’s possible I could be a little needy this morning.”
    “Because?”
    “I was up all night with Mr. and Mrs. Garcia.”
    “I don’t know them, I don’t think.” I had only been in Mangrove for six months, so it was possible the Garcias were people I’d missed.
    “The litter was delivered early this morning.”
    It took me a moment. “I’m sorry?”
    “I’ll give you a thousand dollars if I don’t have to explain,” he mumbled before pivoting to face toward the counter again.
    “Hold up.”
    His whimper was cute before he mumbled something under his breath about the town being much too small as he moved up one space. Our place in line was slowly edging toward the counter.
    “Kittens?” I said to his back.
    “No.”
    It was too good. “Puppies?”
    Exasperated sigh from the man, and I found I couldn’t stop smiling.
    “Please let it go,” he grumbled. “I can’t even see straight, let alone think.”
    “You delivered puppies?” I snorted.
    He ignored me as he reached the cashier and ordered a regular cup of coffee with four espresso shots mixed in.
    “You don’t think maybe sleep would be better?” I prodded.
    He shushed me, paid, and stepped off to the side to wait instead of quickly darting to the other end of the bar to wait with other customers. It was surprising, because he usually bolted. If we saw each other in line for coffee, he’d pretend I wasn’t there or talk to anyone but me and would certainly grab his coffee and get out of there as fast as he could. Normally he never lingered. It had actually become kind of our thing, his hurry to ditch me whenever possible. He was always in a rush when it looked like we’d get a few minutes to talk. I had no idea what I’d done to the man, but it was like he couldn’t stand me. Until today. Until now.
    He was staying put, waiting not just for his coffee, but for me.
    Knowing he was there, that I had his attention, was dizzying, and I had no idea why.
    Adam Crawford, the barista, brought my regular and passed it over.
    “Here you go, Chief,” he said as he did every morning, and I thanked him, paid his sister, Pattie, the perky little cashier, and then moved sideways to stand with Roark, who was still waiting on his cup.
    “How come you get yours so fast?”
    “I’m special,” I said like it was obvious.
    He smiled even though his eyes were watering. “Yeah, okay.”
    I tipped my head, studying him.
    “What?”
    “Why work today?”
    “It’s kind of what I do.”
    “Yes, but what if you diagnose something wrong? What if in your sleep-deprived state you do something really