Page 217 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

After I make a call to Carlos, a twisty one-lane road leads up, up, and away from the submerged streets.

Mia calls Lisa to let her know we’re stuck.

From Mia’s half of the conversation, I gather that Lisa and the rest of the crew are already at the inn, and she’ll check them out and send them back to San Francisco.

Soon, we pull into the driveway of Carlos’s cabin on our side of the closed roads.

Heavy rain falls as we dart out of the car and jog to the front porch, where I track down the extra key he said was hidden beneath a bronze miniature Pegasus statue next to a potted fern. I unlock the door and push it open with a loud creak.

Inside, Mia breathes a deep sigh. “It’s dry,” she says with a wide smile.

“The one time I’m okay with you not being wet.” I point to the car. “I’ll go get your things. You get in your shower.”

“You’re my hero,” she says, and when I head back out into the rain, those words make me stand a little taller, walk a little prouder.

Sometimes the hero has to serve up a shower for his woman.

Even if she doesn’t want to live in the same place as him yet.

Time. There will be time for that. Time for us to navigate this new relationship road.

As I open the back of the car, I remind myself that everything is new for us.

We’ve only ever lived on opposite coasts, and figuring out how to be together will take some adjustments.

If she needs to be across the river in Hoboken to make those adjustments, so be it.

I grab her bag, since she’ll have another change of clothes in it, and mine, too, then return through the rain to Carlos’s sweet digs.

It’s more like a mountain home away from home, with soft, cushy furniture, a fully stocked kitchen and stainless-steel fridge, a spacious living room with high ceilings, and a fireplace that alone would make the winter trips worthwhile.

The cabin also has a shower.

A shower that’s running loud.

And hot.

Starring one very naked woman right now.

I remove my hiking boots and follow the sound of the running water, stripping off my wet, clingy shirt and shorts. The door is ajar, and already steam wafts out.

I knock, but it’s purely perfunctory. I’m going in without an invite.

In one quick whoosh, my boxer briefs are off, and I step into the rainfall shower with Mia.