Page 50 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
Makena: Well, we MAY have a nice hotel booked for the next night…
With a hot tub on the balcony…
Which reminds me, Parker says you should feel free to use the hot tub and come sleep in the guest room, if you want, and anything else you need. I just asked him and, as I thought, he’s totally cool. We’ll leave the keys for you in the mailbox, and I’ll put clean sheets on the guest bed before I leave, just in case.
Charlotte: Well, tell Parker thank you very much. I’ll probably tough it out at my place, but I’ll definitely take you guys up on the hot tub offer. I hope you have a good trip, honey. And remember, there’s no shame in realizing you flew too close to the camping sun and booking a backup hotel. There IS a backup hotel, right? Somewhere? Aside from the Murder Casino?
Makena: We’ll be fine. Good luck with the renovations. I’ll check in with you in a few days to see how you and the plants are getting along.
Charlotte: Sounds good. Have fun. And be careful. Remember, water moccasin venom kills.
Makena: Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.
Chapter
Twelve
PARKER
We leave at dawn with the windows down and Willie Nelson on the radio, which feels right. I love Willie. He’s the laid-back, music-making, live-and-let-live Weed Grandpa the world needs right now.
Makena agrees, a fact she’s currently proving by singing along—badly.
Mercifully, when “On the Road Again” gives way to some vintage Patsy Cline, she reaches into the picnic basket between us to play breakfast fairy.
“We have gluten-free rosemary honey breakfast biscuits, protein smoothie in the thermos, and homemade peanut butter granola globs,” she announces. “Pick your poison.”
“Granola globs?”
“They were supposed to be bites, but they ended up oozier than expected. Probably the peanut butter. I’ll leave them on the cookie sheet longer next time before I cut them into squares. But I’m not going to turn my nose up at something yummy just because it’s a little globby.”
“Same.” I nod. “I’ll start with a glob, then smoothie, then seven or eight of those biscuits.”
She laughs. “You can have five. I made six, but I want one. I’m getting pretty good with the gluten-free stuff, if I do say so myself.”
“You are,” I agree. “My girls down at my favorite bakery are probably wondering if I died. I haven’t been in all week. Don’t tell them, but you’re a better gluten-free chef than Minnie already.”
“Why, thank you.” Makena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she adds with mock humbleness, “I mean, I studied baking in Paris, but…I don’t like to brag.”
I laugh and she joins in, making the morning sun feel brighter. Once she’s globbed me up and has her biscuit in hand, she adds, “But talking about gluten-free stuff reminds me. Where’s your EpiPen? I figured I should know. Just in case you accidentally eat something contaminated with gluten at the festival and start to die or something.”
“Aw,” I say, batting my lashes her way. “That’s so sweet.”
She rolls her eyes. “That I don’t want you to die? Yeah, so sweet. A real base-level of human caring there, buddy.”
I shake my head, grinning around my first bite of granola. “Nope, you want to be my hero. And save my life.”
“And have an excuse to stab you with a big needle?” she supplies.
I nod. “Yep. And have an excuse to stab me with a big needle. It’s cute. I love it, almost as much as I love those overalls.”
And Ireallylove those overalls. With a red bandana tied in her hair and beat-up Converse that have seen better decades, she looks like a sexy tomboy from a country music video.
I want to bite her.
Right where her neck meets her shoulder, where the overall strap keeps sliding down…
“EpiPen?” she reminds me after I’ve mused a little too long in silence. “You did bring one, didn’t you? We’re going to be out inthe middle of nowhere, Parker. If something happens, we won’t be ten minutes from a hospital the way we are here.”
