Shay sat at the trestle table, a cup of chamomile tea in her hands. It was 3:00 a.m. When she heard a door open and close down the hall, she knew Reese was getting up. Relieved, she saw him amble down the hall in a white T-shirt and blue pajama bottoms, feet bare. His hair was tousled and his eyes sleep ridden. Max got up, going to greet him. Reese leaned down, ruffling the dog’s fur.
“How long you been up?” he mumbled, going to the cupboard for a mug.
“An hour,” Shay admitted quietly.
“Did you get any sleep at all?”
Mouth quirking, she said, “Not really. Just going over everything that needs to be done here today. They’re going to be bringing in the tents this afternoon to set up where
we’ll have the food and drinks. That has to be done first.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulder as Reese came over and sat in his chair at her elbow. Her heart blossomed with such need of this man, who was like a quiet oasis in the storm of her life. And that’s what it felt like right now: a hurricane shrieking around her.