When he called her name—repeatedly, insistently—she growled deep in her throat, rolled onto her back and parted her eyelids, only to slam them closed against the bright yellow sunlight pouring into the tent around his dark silhouette in the doorway. “Close the flap!” “Nope. Open your eyes, sweetheart, it’s time to be up and moving.” “What time would that be?” she moaned. “It’s already past seven.” He said it as if substituting “noon” for “seven.” She tried using her vision again, squinting at him and shielding her eyes with one hand. “Okay, okay. Just give me fifteen minutes.” He held out a blue tin cup with white speckles, and Olivia’s nose twitched as she caught a hint of the aroma. “Is that…?” “Coffee,” he said. “Fresh brewed and piping hot. This one’s mine, but I have a cup out here waiting for you.” “Okay, five minutes, then,” she said. “And don’t let that coffee get cold.” He grinned at her and, nodding, backed away from the tent, letting the flap fall closed and plunging her back into blessed dimness.
