West Coast Soulmates

Chapter 5

Chapter Two

Jennifer

Of all the days for a freakin’ blizzard.

Mom and my sister Shelley were supposed to come up for Christmas and all the roads were closed. “I’m so sorry, Jenny, but with this storm, they aren’t letting anyone up the mountain.” She was the only person since my childhood that still called me Jenny. “Shelley and I will try to come up as soon as we can.”

Mom’s regret was clear over the phone.

“I know, Mom. It’s only that it’s Christmas Eve. We’ve always had our tradition, you know?” I tried to not sound too disappointed, but I didn’t think Mom bought it.

It was my first Christmas without Lee, my deceased husband.

“Are you going to be okay up there alone tonight, honey?”

“Yeah. I’ve got plenty of firewood and stuff. I’ll probably pop in a movie and make some cocoa. See you soon, ‘kay?”

“We’ll try to head out first thing in the morning. Merry Christmas, Jenny. We love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

All alone on Christmas Eve. Bah humbug.

The snow was already piled six feet high beyond the shelter of the trees. The flakes fell sideways with every wind gust. I flicked the radio on to try picking up a status report, but all that came out was static. Everybody up here had to huddle in and wait for the plows to dig them out.

“This monumentally sucks.”

I walked into the kitchen to ladle some stew into a bowl, then turned the slow cooker off. The teakettle whistled for water for my hot chocolate.

I’d just settled on White Christmas on TV when something pounded on the front door.

White Christmas“What the hell?”

A dark, person-sized, shape stood at the door to the snow room.

I unlocked the door, the man darting inside as soon as I opened it. “What are you doing out in this?”

“C-c-car broke d-down. Stuck,” the man said, pointing off into the white. “S-saw your lights.”

Stupid townies. Always thought they’d be the one person to drive through a blizzard. “I’m about a quarter mile in from the road. You’re lucky you didn’t wander in the wrong direction.” I opened the house door. “Stamp the snow off your boots. I don’t want you getting my floor wet.”

“B-b-bless you. Thanks.”

What kind of moron came up to the mountains in a leather jacket, a sweater, and jeans?

He held a guitar case, too.

I left him on the porch and retrieved a blanket.

His coat hung on the rack and he’d pushed the hood of his sweater off his head to reveal shoulder-length, curly brown hair. He had a nice, chiseled face half covered by a short beard. I handed him the blanket and walked into the kitchen.

“What were you doing on the road in this storm?” I filled another bowl.

“Played a song at the resort. Was supposed to be a quick thing and I’d drive back down to L.A. The storm came out of nowhere.”

“You couldn’t leave that in the car?” I asked, nodding to the guitar case.

He shook his head. “It’ll c***k in the cold. I flipped burgers all summer for that guitar when I was sixteen. Where I go, she goes.” He took a seat at the table and tucked into the stew. “Thanks.”

“Not used to snow, are you?”

“Not in a long while.” He offered his right hand. “I’m Dylan, by the way.”

I shook it. “Jennifer Donovan.” His fingers were cool.

“Pleased to meet you, Jen. And thanks for the stew. You got anything to drink?”

“Uh, I can make tea or cocoa, or coffee if you want to wait.”

“Maybe something a little stronger to warm the blood.”

“No.” There would never be alcohol in this house again. I stood, collected the empty bowl, and walked to the sink to rinse it. “You’re going to have to be warmed by temperature, not alcohol.”

“Okay… Cocoa would be fine, then, if you have any of those little marshmallows.”

“Sorry, I only have the big ones, and those are going on the yams tomorrow.” I lit the fire under the teakettle.

“Right…it’s Christmas.”

I felt a spark of compassion and remembered my manners. “You can use my phone to call home if someone will be worried.”

He shook his head. “Only me. Won’t be missed until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh.” I knew how that felt right now. “So, you did a concert, huh? What do you play?” I sat at the table.

“Well, for this kind of deal, just some classic rock stuff and holiday tunes. They like some background noise up at the lodge and prefer it’s live. I was available.”

“Didn’t they offer you a room for the night? The storm’s been on the news.” The kettle whistled. I prepared the mug and set it in front of him.

“I was, uh, kind of anxious to go. My ex’s family runs the joint.”

“Oh. Awkward.” A thought occurred to me and I blurted out, “Your feet! I mean, you’ve probably got snow in your boots. You should sit by the fire and dry them out.” I cringed at my awkwardness. “If you want to.”

He smiled. “Thanks. Eh… I don’t suppose you might have some pants I could borrow? I’m a bit soaked.”

“Oh! Deep snow drifts. Duh, of course you are.” Could I sound like more of a ditz? “I’ll go look.”

The bottom drawer of my dresser was filled with old stained stuff, like for painting the house and working on the car. It had a mix of mine, and Lee’s, and I hadn’t thought about it at all until now. The only clothes of his left in the house were in that drawer.

I was not going to cry when I opened it.

notGripping the knobs, I pulled the drawer open and started pulling clothes out on the floor and finally found a pair of sweats with a drawstring waist. They only smelled like the cedar insert I kept in there, so all the better.

I brought them out to my guest. “Here ya go. They might be a bit big, but you can cinch the waist. Bathroom is down there.”

He smiled, taking the pants. “Thanks.” It was a nice smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Without the blanket wrapped around him, I saw his jeans were wet up to waist level. They hugged his skin. He must be freezing still. “Use a towel if you need it,” I said.

Needing something to do, I remembered my food and reheated the bowl and mug while he changed. It was such a weird night. The storm, being alone, a random stranger showing up at my door…all on Christmas Eve.

He came back out carrying his jeans and sweater, wearing a tight long-sleeve black undershirt and the sweats loose on his waist. His socks and boots hung off his arm.

I took the wet stuff into the laundry nook and tossed his jeans and socks in the dryer, then looked at the sweater. It required a lower heat setting, so I hung it up and started the machine. When I walked out, he was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, the blanket draped over him.

Amazingly, it was only around eight o’clock. “It’s a bit early still. I have movies.”

“That’s a nice tree,” he said, looking at the Christmas tree in the corner. “Smells real.”

“Of course it’s real. I’m surrounded by forest. My mother and sister were supposed to be here tonight, but—”

“The storm. Isn’t it a pain all winter, shoveling snow off the driveway just to get your car out?”

SUV, specifically. I sat on the other end of the sofa. “Can be, with a heavy year, but I like it up here. It’s peaceful, I have good neighbors, the air’s clean… Lee and I came up for a weekend once, saw the house for sale, and knew this was where we wanted to be. Only me now, though.”

“It is a nice place. Cozy. But I’m more the urban type.”

“Gee, wouldn’t have guessed.”

He chuckled, a rich sound. “Guess it is a bit obvious. Nothing wrong with a getaway now and again, but I get bored. And small towns don’t offer much for musicians.”

“There is that. Are you looking to get rich?”

“Well, it’s certainly nice. As long as my belly’s full and the rent is paid, it’s really about the music, sharing that harmonic connection.” He shifted to face me more easily. “What do you do, Jennifer?”

“I’m a writer. Fiction, now, though I used to do op-ed stuff in college.”

“What genre? Maybe I’ve read something. I read a lot.”

“I really doubt it.”

He didn’t look like the type to read sci-fi.

“Naughty romances?” With a wiggle of his brows.

“Why do men always have to jump to that conclusion?”

alwaysHe held his hands up. “Sorry. My mistake. I was only teasing.”

I released a breath. “I’m sorry. Touched a nerve.” Lee wanted me to switch to a genre that paid more, back when. “It was hard to find a publisher.” And they had me write under a non-feminine pseudonym.

they“So…what’s your niche, then?”

I chewed my lip. “Science fantasy. Sometimes for teens.”

“Oh. So, space age stuff, with aliens and distant planets?”

“Sometimes. Living here helps with the work. Few distractions.”

“Makes sense. Are you working on a book now?”

“Not for a while. I’m on a break.” More like the muse dove off a cliff.

“Ah.”

We lapsed into silence, watching the crackly movie.

I studied him out the corner of my eye. He was built nice, if you liked the slim look. Visible muscle definition through the snug shirt. I hadn’t looked close enough to see what color his eyes were, yet. His hands were large, dwarfing the mug in his grasp, with long fingers and short nails.

“Do you think it’ll snow all night?” he asked.

“Maybe. Even if it doesn’t, the plows won’t come out on the roads until daylight.”

“So, I’m stuck here. All night.”

I let out a slow breath. “So it would seem.”

A young, attractive man in the house all night. Woo, boy.

No awkwardness there…

He broke the silence first. “Want you to know you’re safe. Not a murderer or r****t or anything. Love women, actually.”

I arched a brow. “And they love you?”

He laughed. “Not enough to stay.” And dropped his eyes to his mug. “What about you? You mentioned a name.”

“Lee. My husband.”

“Oh. Couldn’t make it home for Christmas?”

“Not since he rolled his car off the mountain and died.” Oh god…why did I say that? “I’m going to prepare the guest room.” I fled to the spare room to prepare his bed.

Oh god…why did I say that?Couldn’t believe I blurted it out like that. God, what he must think of me…what he must think I thought of him for asking. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

himStupid, stupid, stupid“Hey.” He stood in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for the personal question. It was none of my business. I’d offer to go, but…”

“You don’t need to apologize. I don’t know why I said that.” I sighed. “My husband died ten months ago. He was drunk and driving too fast and he didn’t make it around the curve.” I sat on the bed. “My family was coming up to help me make a good memory here for the holiday after… It’s my first Christmas alone.”

He took a step forward. “You’re not alone now.”

Not in the technical sense, anyway. “True. Thanks. Would you like more cocoa?”

“Please.” He backed up to let me out of the room.

He followed me to the kitchen. I filled the kettle with more water and turned on the stove, then grabbed some cookies I’d made the day before out of the pantry. He sat on the counter watching me, his bare feet swaying back and forth.

“So, Dylan, huh?”

“Yep. Dylan Smith.”

“Not common at all.”

He chuckled. “Nope. Merely another one of the faceless legion.”

“So, why would you do a performance at Christmas?”

“A favor. I don’t normally do this, but my friends had plans tonight, so I figured what the hell…and slid into a snow bank for my trouble.”

I giggled, handed him one of the mugs, and held up mine for a toast. “To better luck next year.”

He clinked our mugs. “I’ll drink to that.”

We shared a smile. I couldn’t help doing it when he did, like an automatic reaction of my cheek muscles. Dylan had a hell of a smile. His whole face lit up with it.

Lee never smiled with his teeth showing; at least, not for a long time before his death.

“So, what kind of music do you play?”

He hopped down, careful not to slosh, and walked to his guitar case. “Some of everything, really.” He set the mug down and opened the case. “Let’s see how you fared, old friend.”

He plucked his thumb on the strings, checking their tune, then started playing a combination of embellished scales. At least to my knowledge, he was really good. He pushed his sleeves up a bit, revealing toned forearms with corded muscles that twitched and flexed when he played. Then he started humming something I didn’t know and switched melodies.

Soft words escaped his lips, like he couldn’t help singing it instead of merely humming along. A smooth pretty baritone that made my tummy flutter. I stared as he lost himself in the music, his eyes closed and head bobbing in time.

It had turned into an intimate moment. I was sure he’d forgotten he had an audience and…wow, was it hot in here?

wow, was it hot in here?“I’m glad your guitar wasn’t damaged,” I blurted out

He stopped playing and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Seems okay. Thanks.” He grinned, then. “Any requests, milady?”

“Oh, um, I wouldn’t know what… I mean, I don’t listen to much, so… My knowledge is pretty much limited to boy bands and pop princesses of the ‘90s.”

“You really haven’t been a fan of something since high school?” He looked at me like the concept didn’t compute.

I shrugged and turned away to the cookies. “I had other things to do.”

I heard him put the guitar away.

“Like write books.”

“Uh-huh. Crafting a story is…engrossing. Or it used to be.”

He joined me for a cookie. “Muse run off?”

“Like it couldn’t escape fast enough.”

He leaned his forearms on the kitchen counter. “Maybe you need a change of scenery. Or experience. Shake things up. When I get stuck on a song, I try something I’ve never done before.”

I looked up and met his eyes. They were prairie sky blue. “What did you do?”

“The first thing that crossed my mind. Sometimes it got me in trouble, but it was still worth it.”

I propped my chin up with my hand. “What kind of trouble?”

He grinned, showing off sexy dimples. “Anything from women to getting arrested. Did some stupid s**t at nineteen.”

I giggled. “Doesn’t everybody?”

He leaned closer. “I sense a story there, Ms. Donovan.”

I dropped my gaze and peeked at him through my lashes. “Well, I did the sorority thing, right? And there are dares, you know, to get in.” I shook my head. “I can’t, it’s too embarrassing.”

“Would I find pictures on the Web?” he teased.

“Oh, god, no…nothing that scandalous. Forget it… I’ve just met you! Oh, gee, that fire’s getting pretty low.” I darted around him to go get more firewood, only to be stopped when he grabbed my hand. The contact sent a jolt up my arm like an electric zap.

“I’ll share if you will.”

“Share what?” My words came out in a breathy whisper.

“Something old.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Or something new.”

Distance would be good.

Moving away any time now.

This is me, moving.

Why aren’t my feet working, dammit?

I hadn’t shared chemistry with anyone since Lee, and he’d stopped wanting me in bed months before his death. This close to Dylan, I couldn’t deny his looks were, well…gorgeous.

What was this man doing to me? He stood there, still holding my hand, eyes locked with mine. Was he waiting for something?

“I-I…”

A kind smile graced his face, and he let me off the hook. “You’re right. The fire is almost out. Do you have more wood handy?”

“I-in the snow room.”

He nodded and left to get it. My hand started to cool immediately and felt empty.

“Cold!” He rushed back inside with a couple logs in his arms and shut the door, hopping on his toes.

I laughed. “Serves you right for going out there barefoot.”

He crossed the living room to the hearth.

The movie was almost over. Had we really been talking that long?

“I should check on your clothes.”

“Okay.” He kept poking the fire.

The dryer probably buzzed while he was playing. His jeans and socks were dry. I left his sweater draped flat on top of the machine.

“Here you go. Nice and warm.”

He grabbed the socks and pulled them on. “Ahhh…now that’s a beautiful thing.”

Still sitting on the floor, he leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out. I sat on the hearth rug Indian-style and stared into the flames.

This Christmas Eve wasn’t so bad so far.

I didn’t look at him, though. That would mean seeing how his tight tee showed the definition in his torso and biceps, and the sliver of tummy revealed between his shirt and the low-riding sweatpants. It meant noticing the twinkle of his eyes, the modelesque cheekbones, and the lower lip just waiting to be bitten.

Any writer would ascribe his looks to one of her heroes.

What was I thinking?

I was a widow. He shouldn’t even be on my radar. My husband hadn’t been in the ground a full year.

The husband that barely acknowledged I existed before he killed himself.

But he was deeply depressed. It wasn’t his fault.

Maybe the depression wasn’t his fault, but did he try to get a job after he lost the first one?

Was it just an excuse when I found a number and a woman’s name in the pocket of his jeans?

Or how about the lipstick on his boxers after he came home stone drunk from the bar?

Or when I found condoms in the truck when I needed a flashlight?

OKAY! I get it!

Lee had been a sucky partner and wasn’t worth honoring anymore.

These past months, I blocked those bad memories out, afraid acknowledging my husband’s faults after his death meant I was a bad wife. I loved him, I knew I did, but the fairytale start to our romance gave way to a nightmarishly-real ending.

“Earth to Jennifer…”

I looked up into blue eyes. “Huh?” When did he move that close?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“They aren’t worth the penny.”

He sat leaning toward me, his weight propped up on one arm. “I know I’m a lousy substitute for family cheer.”

I shook my head. “You’re not lousy. This is better than being alone.” A lot better.

He smiled. “Thank you. How can I entertain you?”

That was a loaded question.

“You’re my guest. I should be asking you.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t let me freeze.”

Me, too. I leaned my cheek on my shoulder and smiled back. “Guess you owe me, then.”

Me, tooWe gravitated closer, centimeter by centimeter.

“Then may I tell you that you have the most beautiful mouth I’ve ever seen?”

I blushed, but didn’t look away. “You just did.”

His gaze flicked to my lips a second before he kissed me.

I had time to pull away or turn my head.

I didn’t want to.

For being the seducing stranger, his kiss was surprisingly gentle. God, I’d missed connecting. His breath still smelled like chocolate and his lips were soft. I sighed and tilted my head to deepen contact. He threaded his fingers into my hair.

When he pulled away to breathe, I whispered, “I haven’t been touched in a long time.”

He swallowed, then nodded. “I’m not trying to take advantage, Jen. Stop me when you want to.”

“I know. Just…please kiss me again.” I pushed Lee out of my mind and let myself feel. Lust, a crush, animal attraction…whatever you wanted to call it, I welcomed this moment. The months alone had felt like years. Maybe tonight gave me a way to move on.

Dylan moved into a kneeling position to have both hands free, one tunneling into my hair again and the other caressing my cheek. He kissed so sweet I might cry. It was unexpected.

I shifted closer to touch him too, wrapping my arms around his back, then crawled on his lap when the kiss gained intensity.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he said when we parted.

I grinned. “You always kiss strange women you meet in the middle of a blizzard?”

“Only the ones that save my life.”

Good answer.

We made out in front of the fireplace until he tried to change position and couldn’t make his legs work. His feet fell asleep from sitting on them. I moved off his lap and turned off the TV, then sat on the sofa and watched him rub the blood back into his legs.

He stood on his feet. There was a prominent tent in his sweats and I tried not to stare.

That thing was definitely longer than—

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, relieved he wanted more. His lips were like a drug, creating more and more need inside me.

He gripped the hem of my sweater and pulled up. I raised my arms so he could lift it over my head, the timing perfect for only parting a second. Another fierce kiss, then the tank top I wore made it to the floor, too.

He glanced down at my bra. “Candy canes?”

I shrugged. “It’s Christmas.”

He grinned. “You’re too adorable.” And kissed me again.

I didn’t want to be the only one shedding clothes and reached for his tee. He shed it and tossed it aside. Oh, wowza… He was really toned, a six-pack leading all the way down beneath those pants. I trailed my fingers over his chest. His abs twitched when I reached his belly button. Lee had been beefy and tall, heavy enough to make it uncomfortable for him to be on top of me. Dylan’s body type was a better match for my frame.

Oh, wowza“See something you like?” he asked between kisses on my neck.

“Uh-huh.” Enough talking. I shut him up with my mouth.

He teased my lips with his tongue. Used to a man plunging his tongue far enough in to make me gag, I didn’t like French kissing before tonight, an invasion I expected to put up with as part of foreplay. Dylan enticed me to dance and play, tickling the roof of my mouth then retreating to beckon me to try the same on him. It was hot.

DylanhotHe picked me up and carried me to the couch, gently laying me down. Kissing down the center of my chest to my belly button, he undid my jeans, then pulled them off, tossing my slippers somewhere in the process.

“Matching candy canes. I love it.”

I beckoned him to me. He crawled up my body, nipping and sucking on my skin. I arched into his touch, biting back a moan.

“Beautiful…”

My cheeks flushed. “I’m okay.”

He rose up on his arms. “Who told you that you were only ‘okay’?”

“No one… I just—”

He stood up. “Come with me.”

“What?” And go where?

And go where?“Take my hand.”

Bewildered about what he had in mind, I took it. He pulled me into the bathroom and turned on the light. The mirror on the wall showed our bodies to hip level.

He guided me to stand in front of him, his hands on my shoulders. “Look at you.”

“Dylan, this is—”

“Look, Jen.” He trailed one hand down my ribs to my hip. “Look at that curve.” The other hand graced my cheek. “Look at how alive you are. The flush of your cheeks, your lips rosy from my kisses…”

LookEntranced by his show, I stared at my reflection. When he brushed his finger across the top of my breasts, I shivered.

“The way your lovely t**s yearn to be touched…” He wrapped his arm around my waist. “Tell me you don’t look sexy as hell right now.”

I hadn’t looked at my body in a mirror in a long time, especially not naked or nearly so. But he was right. I was still young, and boys thought me pretty in high school and college.

Lee had chased me.

me“There you’re getting it,” he said, seeing the change in my expression.

Dylan kissed my neck, keeping eye contact in the mirror. My breaths came faster watching him seduce me, feeling his teeth graze my skin with each touch. I got lost in it and my eyes fell shut. He unhooked my bra and slid the straps down my arms. I opened my eyes in time to see him cup my breasts in his hands.

Oh, god… Don’t stop touching me.

Oh, god… Don’t stop touching meThe calluses on his fingertips were driving me crazy. In contrast, his palms were soft, and the combination felt unbelievably good.

“You’ve got beautiful breasts, baby.”

“Don’t need to flatter me.” I was already going to jump him.

“Ain’t flattery when it’s truth. So pretty. So responsive.”

I squirmed in his arms, rubbing my ass against the hard length behind me. If he kept tweaking my n*****s like that, I’d come. I didn’t want to do it in the bathroom, though, and couldn’t do it yet in my bed.

Escaping his hands, I ran back into the living room. He followed eagerly and caught me around the waist. I squealed when he latched onto one of my breasts with his mouth, then moaned when he sucked my n****e.

We couldn’t keep from kissing long and touched lips with more hunger than before. I loved how his skin felt against me, the warmth and softness. He held my body tight and rubbed my back. His hands moved about like he couldn’t get enough of me to touch at once. Feeling how much he wanted me, I grew bolder and let my hands explore, sliding them underneath the sweats to palm his ass.

Could bounce a quarter off that, too. Did the man spend half his life in the gym?

Yummy.

YummyHooking my thumbs in the waistband, I started pulling his pants down, sinking to my knees at the same time. Distracted by his erection bobbing in my face, I almost missed the tattoo curling over his hip. I traced the letters and numbers with her finger.

He watched, stepping out of the material pooled at his feet.

“What’s this?”

“The opening chords of the first song I sold. Product of a bit too much celebration.”

I smiled up at him. “I like it. It means something, even if you were drunk off your ass when you did it.”

Then I lay back on the rug and beckoned him down with my finger.

He joined me on the floor and kissed me again, fingers teasing my belly, then pulled back an inch to ask, “What do you want, Jen?”

I met his eyes, hazel green to blue, and said, “You.”

He smiled, revealing those dimples again, and crawled down my body to peel my panties off and stroke a thumb down my center.

“God…” The sensation was intense.

God…I hadn’t been this turned on in so long.

Dylan stopped teasing and poised his p***s at my entrance. Cradling his hips between my legs, I nodded. He slid slowly into my heat. A year without s*x meant a snug fit at first.

I tensed.

“Relax. Gonna make you feel good.”

I inhaled a deep breath, let it out, and he slid in all the way. He paused, then chose a slow rhythm of shallow thrusts.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and arched my hips to meet his. “Ohhh, yes.”

“God, you’re tight. Squeeze me, like that, yeah. Look at me, Jen.”

I opened my eyes and got caught in his blue depths.

He stroked my skin as well as my insides, making me feel more desirable than in years. Even if I never saw him after tonight, I knew I was better off for the experience.

I never came only from s*x with my ex, but already I felt it building now.

“Close, aren’t you?” Apparently, he could feel it, too.

I nodded. He reached between us and found my c**t. Sparks of ecstasy shot through my body and my stomach tensed. Instantly, I needed more.

more“So beautiful.” He stroked faster. “Wanna see you come.”

I fell apart, my whole body shuddering around him. He sped up his thrusts, his c****x right behind mine and extending the fluttering in my womb.

“Wow.”

He grinned. “Ditto.” He relaxed on top, breathing just as heavily.

My body twitched again. He moaned and kissed me, slow and languid. I wanted more. I wrapped my legs around his hips, crossing my ankles together.

“Oh, I like you,” he said, smiling.

likeyouHe started moving his hips again and drove deeper into me this time.

We were soon at a pounding pace. I was so close to popping again, then he rolled our bodies to put me on top. “You drive.”

“I, um…” If it wasn’t missionary, I’d never done it before.

He gripped my hips and showed me how to move.

Once I found a comfortable rhythm, I liked it. The position made his p***s stroke me in a different way. A new, more stimulating one.

“What’s-his-name was an i***t,” Dylan said, fondling my breasts.

At the moment, I couldn’t disagree.

I lost count of how many times we had s*x in front of my fireplace during the night. Or how many positions. I even woke up from a nap half way to o****m-by-tongue.

Some time before dawn, Dylan grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and covered our bodies, finally letting me sleep. It was dreamless.