Page 36 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Was he?” I ask. “Sorry, I’m nosy tonight. And every night, if I’m being honest.”
Luis stops beside the kiddie PJ table, an explosion of primary colors that gives me a little bit of a headache. “It’s no problem. And nah, her dad wasn’t mad. He knew I was a stand-up guy. How about you? How did you and Makena meet?”
“She used to be my babysitter,” I say, with a grin. “When I was twelve and she was eighteen.”
He snorts. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“You’re serious,” he presses.
“I am, and it’s not weird,” I insist. “We met again last fall as adults, and there was chemistry. Now, we’re sort of living together, but only because she lost her home and business in the flood, too. Still, I’m hoping it’ll become something more.”
Luis sobers. “Aw, man. I’m sorry to hear that.” He glances in the direction Makena disappeared a few minutes ago. “Takes a special person to go out of her way to help a stranger when she’s lost so much.”
“She’s special. No doubt,” I agree, sighing as I add, “I’m totally gone on her. If she doesn’t agree to date me, I’m going to cry into my pillow every night for a long, long time.”
Luis, who obviously doesn’t know me and doesn’t realize I’m always a little serious when I say melodramatic shit like that, laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “I don’t think you have to worry. She likes you, man. I can tell.”
I hope he’s right.
She certainly looks pleased when we meet her at the checkout with not only jammies, but a few romance novels I grabbed on the way past the book section.
“Look, cowboys,” I say proudly, holding up the three covers. I nod toward the middle one. “The guy in the brown hat is my favorite. He looks handsome, but a little tragic, and look at those quads. Dude fills the hell out of a pair of jeans.”
“He really does,” Luis agrees, studying the cover as he sucks in his small gut. “I’m going to have to get back to the gym.”
“Parker can give you work out tips,” Makena says. “He’s a professional athlete.”
Luis glances my way. “Really? You play football, man? Honestly, you looked kind of familiar.”
I scoff. “Football? No way. Hockey, man. I’m with the Voodoo.”
“Oh, shit, yeah,” he says, a delighted grin stretching across his face. “I caught a game before Christmas last year, man. You guys are good!”
By the time we pull up to his temporary home at The Budgeteer Motel, I’ve forced tickets on him for the upcoming season, and Luis is starting to feel like an old friend.
Sadly, the motel looks like it’s seen better days—from the cracked parking lot to the flickering neon sign, to the scuff marks on the doors. But there are toys visible in several of the windows, which somehow makes the place feel sadder.
His family clearly isn’t the only one seeking refuge in this place.
“Room 108,” Luis says, motioning to the far corner, where his wife is already opening the door.
“Hey! Welcome, y’all.” Lila, a brunette with warm, but tired brown eyes, waves us over, reaching for Luis as he gets closer. “Glad you texted, baby. The rugrats were getting sleepy, but when they heard Daddy was coming home with treats, they found the strength to stay awake.”
Their girls explode around her a second later, one squirming between her legs as the other darts past her on the right to hurl herself into Luis’s arms. Sophie and Sylvie have brown eyes like their mama and Luis’s darker curls and are the cutest—loudest—things I’ve seen in a long time.
The next forty minutes are a blur of kid chatter as Makena commands the tiny kitchenette and proceeds to make magic with two burners and a microwave. I’m assigned vegetable chopping duty, which I execute poorly enough that she takes the knife away and gives me stirring responsibilities instead. Luis and Lila help where they can, but we all mostly try to stay out of her way.
Meanwhile, the girls are giddy over their new toys. Soon, a LEGO city is sprouting from the carpet by the oldair conditioner, and Roar, the T-Rex, is threatening mass destruction if he doesn’t get candy.
“No, Roar, don’t do it,” I beg, making Sylvie, the older girl, giggle. “Don’t be a bad dinosaur. Be a good dinosaur.”
“Never! I was born to be bad,” Sylvie says in her deep “dinosaur” voice.
“Sounds like you, Parker,” Makena teases from where she’s already plating, making Lila laugh.
“Your daddy, too,” Lila says. “Did I ever tell you girls about when Daddy was little and he took his big brother’s motorcycle out on the highway when he was only thirteen?”
