Page 56 of Love in the Lab
“What’s wrong with that?” Molly frowns.
I grin. “Nothing at all. It’s very spooky season.”
“Oh no.” She groans. “You love Halloween, don’t you?”
My smile widens. “IloveHalloween. You don’t?”
She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Costumes and rowdy parties? Pass.”
Molly locks up her apartment and we’re back on the road. She holds Beaker on her lap, which the cat does not seem happy about, considering how she’s growling. My apartment is only about ten miles away, but I drive slowly. The weather is getting worse, and because Hernando sped up at the last minute, people who wanted to evacuate didn’t get as early of a start as planned. My nerves ratchet up, needing to get Molly somewhere safe before the storm gets any worse.
A few hours later, we’re all three tucked in safe and dry at my apartment: me, the woman I’m pretty sure I’m in love with, and her cat. Hernando is predicted to make landfall around one in the morning, but its outer bands are no joke and have been bearing down on us for hours. The wind outside has kicked up, and the rain has been steady. At least the apartment complex still has power.
Objective met, I allow my mind to wander. Today was incredible. Like my ownTwistermoment. We braved the storm, launched our Dorothy, and watched the data come pouring in. Well, no data yet, but I’m sure we’ll see them soon.
I was Bill Paxton, Molly was Helen Hunt, and we even had a sexy makeout session in the pouring rain. Actually, inTwisterit’s a broken sprinkler or something, not rain, and certainly not early-bands-of-a-hurricane rain, so looks like Molly and I win there. Damn, she was amazing, both at the science stuff and the kissing stuff. My pulse kicks up just thinking about it, and I look across the dark living room toward my bedroom door.
Like a gentleman, I gave Molly my bed while I toss and turn on the couch, the material scratchy against the bare skin on my back. Why did I buy such an uncomfortable couch? I make a mental note that next time I’m couch shopping, I should lie down on each one to test it for sleepability. You never know when a hurricane will necessitate inviting the woman of your dreams to sleep over platonically, forcing you onto the couch for the night. It’s good to be prepared for that type of scenario.
I chuckle dryly to myself and shift positions again. My eyes are just getting heavy when a popping explosion from outside rouses me. The ceiling fan above me slows to a stop. Power’s out. A transformer must have blown.
As my eyes adjust to the new darkness, I think I hear a soft whimper through the bedroom door. Molly. I freeze and wait. I hear it again.
“Molly?” I call. “Are you okay?”
“Uh huh,” comes the whimpered response.
I’m on my feet and at the door in seconds. Without pausing to put a shirt on or knock, I push into my bedroom and cross the floor to the bed in several long steps.
I kneel softly by the side of the bed so I can see Molly’s face through the inky darkness. Her eyes are open, and she’s lying on her side, clutching the blanket up to her chin.
“Carrots,” I say gently. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers hoarsely. “Did you hear that?”
I reach up and stroke her hair. “Yeah. It was a transformer exploding outside. It’s why we lost power.”
Her eyes widen. “Exploding? Are we safe here?”
I lean forward and press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, baby. We’re safe here. We might get a little warm without the air conditioner, but we’re safe. I promise.”
The tension drains out of her muscles as she sinks deeper into the bed. Her eyes flutter closed and then open again, the fear in them tempered. A slow ache builds in my chest as I realize I did that for her. She believes me when I promise her safety. More than anything, I want to be worthy of her trust, although I’m certain I’ll never be fully worthy of her.
Her eyes close again, and her breathing evens out. I stand and slowly turn, tiptoeing back toward the door.
“Stay.” I hear the hushed voice behind me and turn on my heels. Her eyes are open, watching me. “Stay with me, please,” she repeats. The way she says “please,” soft and guileless, tears at my heart.
“Are you sure?” I whisper into the dark.
“I need you with me,” she says, and whether she’s just talking about tonight in the face of the hurricane, or she’s talking about forever, I’m all in.
I creep around to the other side of the bed and climb under the covers. I roll toward Molly, pulling her into my arms and aligning her back to my chest. I nuzzle my nose into her neck, placing a soothing kiss below her ear. She sighs and drops her head against my chest. Within minutes, her steady breathing tells me she’s asleep.
Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert as I revel in the feel of her skin against mine. I inhale the scent of her hair, and it’s my shampoo from the shower she took in my bathroom shortly before going to bed. I close my eyes and focus on the soft inhale and exhale of her breath lulling me to sleep.
I wake the next morning sticky with sweat. One of my arms is tucked beneath Molly’s hip, the weight of her body leavingmy skin prickling and numb. My other arm curls around her, my hand resting on the T-shirt over her stomach. Our legs are tangled in the most blissful knot I’ve ever experienced.
Oh, and there’s a cat practically sitting on my face. I turn my head to try to dislodge her, but she doesn’t move. I lift my arm from Molly’s stomach and push Beaker off. She growls and resettles at the foot of the bed.
