One to Tell the Grandkids by Kristina M Sanchez Page A

of relief admitting to herself that she truly wasn’t attracted to him. Maybe it would all be simpler if she were, but she wasn’t.
    Then again, maybe it was simpler because she wasn’t. Romance, relationships—they were complications all by themselves. She and Slate still had so much to work out. They were taking their friendship one day at a time, but there were a lot of questions they had yet to answer, much more important questions than whether or not they were attracted to each other.
    More time passed than Taryn intended before she finally pushed up off the wall. She entered Caleb’s room to find both he and Slate were fast asleep. Slate was above the covers, asleep on his back, while Caleb was underneath, facing away.
    Two unlikely brothers , she reflected as she set water and aspirin on the nightstand beside Caleb. Though she knew she was invading their privacy, Taryn lingered, watching over both the men for a handful of seconds.
    She let her worries fade away to amusement when she remembered Caleb dancing earlier that evening. She remembered watching him with all his friends, in his element and happy.
    Just as soon as a smile began to creep up her cheek, Taryn frowned. A strange sensation tingled just beneath her skin that she couldn’t explain. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it was disconcerting.
    Lost in thought, she reached out to smooth a strand of hair from Caleb’s face and started when his eyes blinked open. She froze, but he only smiled, raising a hand to brush her cheek tenderly before his eyelids fluttered closed again.
    It occurred to Taryn she probably liked the simple touch more than she should.
     

 
     
    Chapter Eleven
     
     
    I t was still dark when Taryn came into semi consciousness with a jolt. Her world shook unsteadily. She whimpered, automatically grasping for something to hold on to.
    “Shh.” There was a soft voice near her ear. “I’ve got you.”
    She calmed as easily as she’d started, curling toward the warmth under her fingers. “Slate,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck.
    He was carrying her somewhere, and she probably should have been more concerned about that. But she felt safe. Her mind hadn’t left that hazy place yet.
    “Don’t wake up.”
    He was setting her down on something soft. Comfortable. It was too easy to succumb to sleep again. She shivered, shifting onto her side and snuggling closer to a spot that was radiating heat. With a little sigh, she let go of consciousness again.
     
     
    Caleb’s head hurt.
    There was a light behind his closed eyelids he was certain was trying to kill him. His mouth was full of cotton wrapped in nasty. His stomach was trying to twist right out of his throat while at the same time making him crave ramen noodles like a son of a bitch.
    It took him a few minutes to register anything beside the throb in his head and the churn of his stomach. He internally cursed his friends. Stupid friends plying him with his own booze and leaving him to die.
    A soft, distinctly female sound broke through the hangover haze. It occurred to Caleb then that his skin, under his shirt, was clammy, overheated. There was a weight on his chest, and when he raised his hands, he encountered long, soft hair. Wary, he opened his eyes.
    It took a few seconds for his eyesight to adjust, but then he realized Taryn was in his bed. More accurately, she was in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, hand spread wide on his stomach.
    In the stillness of the late morning, his brain wasn’t working at its full capacity. Maybe the sight of her like this should have sent him scrambling. Instead, he let his fingers curl into her hair, smoothing tangles as he looked down on her peaceful face. From his vantage point, he could see the scattering of freckles across her nose and the way her lips pursed in sleep. She was pretty. He’d told her that before, but right then it became an emotion that left warmth at the center of his chest. What had once been