Page 6 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Thanks for letting me know.” I circle around to the driver’s side, dread hardening my stomach.
Idon’t live downtown.
But I know someone who does…
Makena lives in the back of her restaurant. She sleeps on a little sleeping mat tucked into a shelf under the paper products because she was too fucking stubborn to give up on her dream when the bank refused to give her a business loan, so long as she was still paying rent on an apartment. When Elly told me the story, it was clearly intended to illustrate how obstinate Makena can be, and encourage me to come to terms with the fact that her lips might never again meet mine. Instead, it only made me more certain that she’s my pigheaded soul mate.
Together, there’s probably nothing we couldn’t do.
Unless she’s swept away by a flood…
Pulling over to the side of the road, where the water is already six inches deep, I check the weather report to see the area near Makena’s restaurant in bright red. It’s an area I know well, not far from the stadium, full of office buildings.
An area rescue teams will likely head to last, since allegedly no one lives there…
“She probably couldn’t get home,” I mutter aloud. “If it’s flooding now, it was flooding forty minutes ago. She probably called a cab. The driver probably said, ‘I can’t take you there,weirdo—there’s a flood,’ and now, she’s shacked up with a friend somewhere on higher ground.”
Or she’s not, and about to be in serious fucking trouble.
And just like that, I’m off, tires spinning as I head back into the heart of the storm, hoping my truck is lifted high enough to stay above the water.
If she’s already safe and sound, and I end up stranded on a roof somewhere because I tried to white knight it for a woman who ran away from me—twice—I’m going to feel like an idiot. But if something happens to her, my heart will be ripped out of my fucking chest.
A man can live with bruised pride.
He can’t live without a heart.
Chapter
Two
MAKENA
I’m an idiot.
A soaking wet, mascara-streaked, nipples-still-hard-from-kissing-Parker idiot.
The cab drops me at the curb outside my building, and I splash through ankle-deep water in my kitten heels to get to the door, cursing beneath my breath.
This rain is really getting excessive. It was hot when Parker and I were kissing in it, but now it’s just wet and cold and making my toes slimy in my shoes.
Fuck.
I kissed Parker.
Again.
In the rain.
And it was crazy hot, and his cock felt like somethingtrulyspecial through his tuxedo pants, and he saw my nipple, and I wanted him to see a lot more. But I can’t sleep with a kid I used to babysit! That would be too weird, even for me, a person who enjoys weird.
But notthatkind of weird.
Not dating people, I knew when they were children weird.
Even if he’s definitelynota child anymore…
Nope, he’s six feet of muscle and mischief wrapped in a rain-soaked shirt that clung to his abs in ways that should be illegal.
