18
Aspen
“Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but only saps today of its strength.” - A.J. Cronin
My head felt like it was going to explode.
Rolling toward the heat source that had kept me cozy all night, I curled my legs up, expecting to find something solid and tangible radiating warmth and shelter. But all my fingers found were cold, empty sheets. Wrinkling my forehead, I winced when little axes in my head hacked at the interior of my temples. With a groan, I buried my face further into my pillow to block out the light flooding my room.
Inhaling a new smell, something spicy and masculine, I breathed in deeply, wondering where such a lovely scent had originated and what it was doing on my pillow. Until I remembered...
Noel Gamble. In my car. Driving me home. Then Noel Gamble.
