Cole reached over and plucked the mug from Jack’s limp hands and leaned across him to set it on the table. But before he could lean back, Jack had latched on to the red long-johns, twisting his fingers into the cloth. Eyes still shut, the man just followed Cole down into the corner of the couch, wormed his way under Cole’s arm, and started snoring.
Well, shit. Now what was he supposed to do? Wake the insomniac so the man could spend the rest of the night pacing? And with Jack clinging like a human tick, there was no way Cole was going to be able to slip away without disturbing him.
Sighing, he moved the pillow from his lap to under his head and snagged the multi-colored afghan from the back of the couch, spreading it over the two of them. Just a few hours. He could give the man that much. Cole knew his own built-in alarm clock would have him awake long before dawn. He’d slip away then, even if it meant waking Jack.