Page 14 of The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2)
Chapter
Eight
PARKER
I didn’t realize it was possible to be this horny.
I swear, this woman teaches me something new every day.
Yesterday, it was that you can use applesauce as an egg substitute if you want fresh muffins but don’t want to bother with a trip to the store. Today, it’s that I can be so fucking turned on, it feels like I might spontaneously combust.
I’m not going to combust, of course.
I’m not a teenager with zero self-control.
But as soon as we get home…
Assuming Makena’s still thinking what I’m thinking…
In the back seat of the rideshare, I nudge my thigh against hers and she nudges back, her lips twitching into a half smile before settling into a tight line.
Our fingers tangle together, the only thread tying me to sanity, and I’m trying very hard not to think about what her fingers were doing to me twenty minutes ago.
Trying and failing.
Spectacularly.
My dick is still three-quarters-hard, no doubt in his stubborn head that we’re headed home to finish what we started in the family bathroom.
I’ve tried to warn him that this isn’t a sure thing.
That Mack and I still need to talk. Sort things out.
Have a clearheaded conversation about where we go from here and whether or not banging is really the best call right now.
But he isn’t listening.
Poor bastard.
As much as I hate the thought of another night alone with my hand, I can’t tell if the tension on her face is sexual tension or tension tension. She did look a little nervous as we were leaving the bar.
I want to tell her she doesn’t have to be afraid. Whatever she’s still worried about, we can handle it.
Age gap? Who cares. Different long-term goals? We’ll find a compromise. Different short-term goals? Harder, since I’m locked into a two-year contract with the Voodoo, but still totally doable.
This is doable.
We are doable.
And she is so fucking doable that getting her naked and under me is pretty much all I can think about.
I squeeze her leg again, just above her knee, and she squeezes back, just like we did in the bar before she?—
The car drifts slightly into the other lane. I jerk my gaze to the front in time to see our driver’s head doing a slow-motion bob that makes me suspect he’s fighting a losing battle with consciousness.
“Hey, buddy.” I lean forward, ready to grab his shoulder—or the wheel—if I have to. “You okay up there?”
His chin snaps up at the urgency in my voice. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Sorry, brother.” He sucks in a breath and gives his head a shake. “Shit, just a long day.”
Makena’s hand tightens on mine. When I glance back at her, she looks as worried as I feel. Yeah, screw death by fiery car crash. I didn’t survive a flood and get this close to fucking the woman of my dreams to die ten miles from the finish line.
“Maybe pull over for a second?” I suggest keeping my voice easy. “Grab some fresh air? We’re not in a rush. Hell, we could run around the car a few times with you, if you want.”
“I could go for some fresh air,” Makena agrees. “Sounds great, actually.”
“You sure?” The man glances at us in the rearview mirror, and Christ, he looks exhausted.
Not just tired, but a bone-deep, soul-sucking level of exhaustion I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced—not even that time my fourteen-hour flight to South Korea to teach an Olympic camp somehow became a thirty-two-hour flight, thanks to general airline incompetence.
“Yeah, totally!”
“No problem at all,” Makena and I trip over each other in our rush to assure him.
Meanwhile, I’m already making plans to ask him to let me drive.
Or hell, just call another car and wait at that gas station up ahead until it shows up.
“All right, then. Thanks a lot, I really appreciate it.” He signals, pulling into the gas station. “Just give me a minute to walk around and pound the rest of my coffee, and I’ll be ready to go. I swear.”
Once we’re parked, he opens the door, letting in the muggy evening air.
The overheads flood the car—harsh and unforgiving.
Luis—our driver’s name, according to the license taped to his dashboard—looks even worse in the light.
Dark circles under his eyes, three-day stubble, and a yellowish tinge to his skin that isn’t doing him any favors.
Still, he looks like a strong, youngish guy, maybe mid-thirties, and in good shape. He’s just fucking beat.
“How long you been driving today?” Makena asks gently.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Since four. This morning,” he adds with a humorless laugh.
Makena sits up straighter. “This morning? That’s what? Almost seventeen, eighteen hours?”
“Give or take,” Luis admits. “But the surge pricing’s been really good since the flood, so…”
Makena and I exchange a look.
Nearly a full day of driving? What the actual fuck? How is this guy still upright?
“That’s not safe, Luis,” Makena finally says, in a gentle, non-judgmental way that makes me proud of her. Personally, I’d still like to strangle Luis a little for nearly killing us, but there must be a reason he’s pushing so hard.
Probably a pretty intense one.
As if reading my mind, he answers, “I know. But my family’s house got swept away in the flood.
We lost everything. Our insurance says it’s going to cover the rebuild, but nothing we had inside—not even the kitchen cabinets or appliances.
It’s a huge expense we just…aren’t prepared to cover. Not even close.”
“What?” Makena asks, her tone pitching up. “What the hell? How can they get away with that?”
Luis shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a common thing?
A lot of the time, they don’t cover ‘contents,’ just walls.
I should have read our policy closer, but…
” He trails off as he takes a bracing drink of his coffee.
“Anyway. They’re paying for the hotel my wife, my girls, and I are staying in right now, but I don’t know how long they’ll cover it.
So I’m trying to save every penny I can.
Especially until my job site opens up again.
The house we were building was wrecked in the flood, too.
” He smiles, a hint of pride creeping into his voice as he adds, “I’m a master electrician.
I only do the driving stuff on the weekends.
Usually just during the holidays or before the girls’ birthdays to pay for presents. ”
My ribs squeeze, tighter and tighter, rage and empathy mixing in my chest as he describes the shitty situation he and his family are in right now.
“How old are your girls?” I ask, doing my best to control my temper. This isn’t about me, and raging against the machine won’t help Luis right now.
But a fat-ass tip will, and I intend to give him one as soon as we get to my place.
He grins. “Three and five. Wild things, both of them, but they’re handling everything better than Lila and I are.
The hotel still feels like a big adventure to them.
Though they do keep asking for their toys and books…
” His smile fades. “My wife lost her books, too. She had this huge romance collection in our spare room. Shelves all the way up to the ceiling.”
“Romance novels?” Makena sits up straighter. “What kind? Contemporary? Paranormal? What’s she into?”
I shoot her a sideways glance.
I didn’t realize she partook of the romance novel.
I wonder what kind she likes? And if they would give me a window into those kinks she’s pretending she doesn’t have…
Luis doesn’t seem surprised by the question, however. “Oh, a little bit of everything. She’s always been a big reader, but she’s been into cowboys, recently.” A soft laugh escapes his lips as he adds, “I like to think guys who work with their hands remind her of me.”
“I’m sure they do,” Makena agrees. “And you know, there’s a Cost Saver Warehouse less than a mile from here.”
Luis blinks, seemingly as confused by the non-sequitur as I am. “Yeah? Is that right?”
“Yep, and it’s open until ten on Fridays.” She’s got that look on her face now, the one that means resistance is futile. “If we hurry, we can get in, grab a couple of things, and get out again in plenty of time.”
To his credit, Luis catches on fast for a man who’s about to drop in the saddle. “Oh, no, ma’am, I can’t ask you to?—”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling,” she says kindly, but firmly. “And I’m very, very stubborn. Arguing is a waste of breath, and you’re way too tired to waste breath. Just drive, park, then come inside and pick out a couple of toys your girls will like. On me. I insist.”
“Might as well give in, man,” I say, loving this idea. Loving her for having it. “She’s a force of nature. It would be like fighting a hurricane.”
A bit more wheedling and gentle bullying, and five minutes later, Luis swings into a spot in front of the brightly lit box store.
“Okay, let’s be fast and efficient,” Makena says, half out of the car before Luis cuts the engine. “We have places to go and things to do.” She strides toward the entrance like a woman on a mission.
Luis and I hustle after her, falling in line the way soldiers do for a general.
It’s clear who’s in charge here, and it’s not us.
Makena commandeers a cart and makes a beeline for the toy section.
She grabs a big box of pastel-colored LEGO bricks, tossing them in the cart before turning back to Luis.
“All kids need blocks, but what else are the girls into? Princesses? Animals? Playdough?”
“Sophie loves princess stuff, but Sylvie is a dinosaur girl,” Luis says, thankfully having abandoned his attempts to stop her. The poor man is too tired to fight, and even if he weren’t, I have no doubt he’d lose.
Few people on earth can out-stubborn this woman.
It’s one of the things I admire about her, when she isn’t using that stubbornness to keep me from slipping into her DMs, of course.