Page 12 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Totally weird,” I agree, enjoying how easy it is between us. Even now, when we’ve both definitely had much better nights.
I flex my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to psych myself up for the walk to the front door.
It’s maybe thirty feet.
I’ve skated through worse pain than this.
Of course, that was before I tore something in my knee playing action hero. But it was worth it. One hundred percent worth it.
Fuck…I’m so glad she’s okay.
When I busted through that door and saw her on top of her counter with the water rising all around her…
Well, I’ve never been so grateful that I’m a lunatic.
But Iama lunatic. I still can’t believe I drove my truck into a building. I haven’t had a chance to look at the front of Thor,Truck of Thunder, yet, but I’m sure he’s going to need a trip to the body shop, bare minimum.
“If you’re waiting for me to invite you in, I can’t,” Makena says, breaking into my racing thoughts. “Because it’s…not my house.”
Right. Focus. Stop spiraling.
There will be time to process all of this later, after we’ve slept.
“Of course. Come in, woman. Let’s get you settled.” I grab the door handle and swing myself out, clenching my jaw as my right leg takes my weight and the pain spikes hard and hot.
The world goes sparkly at the edges for a second, but I power through it.
You’re fine. You’re completely fine. Your career isn’t over. You didn’t just destroy everything you’ve worked for since you were six years old.
And if you did.
Fine.
Her life is worth your career.
Any human life is, but especially hers.
That’s right, Inner Voice. Keep it positive. Much better than calling me an idiot and criticizing my thumbs and ass.
I trail Makena to the front porch, hiding my limp as best I can. She turns back to me, blinking in the porch light in that champagne-colored lingerie that’s basically see-through, even now that it’s had time to dry. The porch light hits her like she’s under a spotlight, and Christ, she’s beautiful. Hair frizzed into messy curls, mascara smudged under her eyes, my gym towel around her neck like a Victoria’s Secret boxer who just won a big match…
I’m tempted to pull out my cell and snap a picture.
“Are you staring at my nipples?” she asks.
“Of course not,” I lie.
She arches a pointed brow.
“Okay, I was staring at your nipples.” I fish my keys out of my pocket, proud of myself for only wobbling once as I shift around her. “But in my defense, they’re very nipple-y at the moment.”
“Well, I’m cold,” she says. “And super turned on by how much we smell like mud and sewage.”
“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
She sighs. “No, just…everything else.”
“Maybe not. We’ll see when the water goes down. Until then, positive thoughts.” I open the door and gesture inside. “Now, how about some jammies and a hot chocolate?”
