Page 44 of The No Touch Roommate Rule (That Steamy Hockey Romance #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

PARKER

T here’s a fresh gopher hole in my backyard that wasn’t there when we left on our trip. Right between the basil and the heirloom tomatoes, like the universe decided to take a shit on everything I hold dear, all in one fell swoop.

I should call pest control, but I can’t stop pacing the edge of the garden long enough to look up the number.

Gophers are the least of my problems right now.

I check my phone again, but there’s nothing since Makena’s text from twenty minutes ago— Running late but bringing dinner. Don’t worry.

Don’t worry.

Right.

Like my stomach isn’t tied in Gordian knots. Like I haven’t been watching the door since Nana and I rolled in two hours ago.

“You’re going to give yourself vertigo walking in circles like that,” Nana observes from the rocking chair on the back porch, sweet tea in hand.

The color’s back in her cheeks, and she’s looking more like her old self with every passing hour. She’s also already dropped a possum in a tutu on my bookshelf and hung two penis paintings in the hallway that aren’t going to be easy to explain when the guys on the team come by to play Madden.

But I’m so glad she’s here.

I want to keep an eye on her. And this way, she can keep an eye on me in the event Makena breaks up with me, and I need to be put on “don’t hurl yourself off a bridge” watch.

Nope, I’m not even going to put that possibility out there into the universe.

If she were planning to break up with me, she would have told me…right?

Given some sign?

Some clue?

“Sit down before you ruin your knee all over again,” Nana adds. “Pacing and checking your phone every five seconds won’t make time pass any faster.”

“Are you sure?” I check my phone again, three times in rapid succession, just to make her laugh.

She does, but I can tell she isn’t buying my attempt to keep things light. “Just be honest, honey. Honest about how you feel, honest about the mistakes you made, and honest about what you plan to do to keep from making the same ones in the future.”

“I know,” I say, “but what if?—”

Before I can ask what happens if my mistake was a “last mistake” kind of mistake, a car door slams out front.

My pulse kicks up, that same pre-game adrenaline that hits five minutes before I take the ice dumping into my bloodstream.

Please, I pray, don’t let her be here to pack up her things. Please, please, please…

I hear them before I see them—Makena’s laugh mixing with a deeper one. It’s male, slightly familiar, but still, I’m shocked when the back gate creaks open to reveal Mack in a bright pink sundress with her dad right behind her.

Holy shit.

This was not what I was expecting.

At all.

And, of course, my stressed-out brain immediately leaps to the conclusion that he’s here to help her pack up and move out.

But they both look happy and relaxed. And Mr. DeWitt is carrying two giant bags of smoky-sweet-smelling BBQ. People don’t bring dinner to a moving-out party. Right? I’m pretty sure a “moving out party” isn’t even a thing.

I hope it’s not, anyway, as I force a smile, waving as they start across the grass toward me.

“Hey, there,” Makena says, her smile growing shy around the edges as she motions Kevin’s way.

“Parker, you remember my dad. Dad, you remember Parker, the kid I used to babysit. And the guy you yelled at by the bakery the other week. And the guy you wanted to apologize to before we all go eat BBQ and become best friends…”

Kevin’s cheeks go nearly as pink as his daughter’s dress, but he’s still smiling as he agrees, “I sure did. I’m sorry, son.

I was out of line.” He glances Mack’s way, while I do my best to pick my jaw up off the ground.

I’ve mostly succeeded by the time he turns back to me, extending a hand.

“I hope we can have a fresh start. Anyone who makes Makena as happy as you do is a friend in my book. I’m glad you two found your way to each other. ”

I take his hand, chest going tight as we shake. “Thank you, sir. All I want to do is make her happy. And support her. And keep her safe. And eat everything she cooks because even her granola globs are fucking amazing. Pardon my French.”

He laughs, seeming to appreciate the effort to break the tension, even if the attempt at humor was lamer than my usual.

But jokes don’t come easy when I’m this nervous.

And I am. Nervous.

Makena seems to be in a good place, but she clearly brought her dad here to prove a point. I just hope the point isn’t that I should learn how to make my father behave, too. Because that’s never going to happen.

Never.

But I am “dead to him” at the moment, so hopefully that’s good news? At least he won’t be sneering down his nose at her any time soon.

“Is someone going to introduce me?” Nana calls from the porch. “Or should I just sit here eavesdropping with my sweet tea?”

Makena turns, her face lighting up. “Chaz! Oh my God, you look so much better. I was a little worried when Parker said you were coming, too, but you look great. I hope the drive wasn’t too much.”

Nana waves a breezy hand. “Nah, it was fine. I enjoyed the change of scenery. Give me a day, and I’ll be back to bossing you around the kitchen, honey.”

“It’s the Parker family rally,” I say as we walk toward the porch. “We go down hard, but we snap back even harder.” When we reach the steps, I pull in a breath to start the introductions, but Nana’s already out of her chair, gripping Kevin’s free hand.

“Hello, Makena’s dad. I’m Chaz Parker, Leo’s grandma and biggest fan. Big fan of your girl, too. I really enjoyed getting to know her over the past few days. What a strong, big-hearted woman you raised.”

“Kevin DeWitt.” He grins, clearly charmed. “And thank you, but I’m not sure how much I had to do with it. Makena’s always been her own, very special person.” He glances his daughter’s way as he releases my grandmother’s hand. “One I’m very proud of, too.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Makena says, her cheeks flushing as she adds, “but we already decided no more feelings today, remember? And a deal’s a deal.”

He chuckles as he nods. “Right. That’s right.”

“That sounds smart,” Nana says. “Feelings before dinner are bad for digestion, and I’m starved.” She hooks her arm through Kevin’s, pulling him toward the kitchen. “Come on, Kev, let’s get this spread laid out and hunt down some lemonade mix. I thought I saw some in the pantry.”

He nods, a complicit gleam in his eye as he says, “That sounds like a great idea.” To us, he tosses over his shoulder, “Take all the time you need. We’ll have the food ready when you are.”

The screen door bangs behind them, and the house swallows their voices.

Then, it’s just us.

Us and the insects humming in the trees, and the spicy, wild scent of all the tomatoes we need to hurry up and eat before they go bad, and all the things I need to say to her.

But where to start?

I guess, “I’m sorry,” is as good a place as any.

I’m about to launch into my best bid for forgiveness when Makena blurts out, “I hope you don’t feel ambushed.”

I shake my head, rushing to assure her, “No, not at all.”

“I didn’t plan on bringing Dad back with me. But we had such a good talk. Then he took off work so we could keep talking and walk around the lake, and it just felt wrong to send him back to his house alone. And we were both starving again by the time we finished up, so…”

“Really, it’s fine.” I follow her as she paces across the grass toward the garden. “It’s awesome, actually. I don’t know what you said to him, but whatever it was, it worked.”

“I just told him the truth.” She turns to face me not far from the gopher hole. I’m about to warn her about it—and promise to call the exterminators first thing tomorrow—when she adds, “I told him that I’m in love with you.”

All thoughts of gophers go straight out the window.

My heart lurches, so dizzy with gratitude, I’m pretty sure it’s crashing around in my intestines by the time she adds, “I told him that you were my boyfriend, that we’re moving in together for real, and I hope you never give me an excuse to move out.

I also told him that from now on, if he wants to be a part of my life, respect for my partner is non-negotiable.

” She stands up a little straighter as she adds, “And that goes double when it comes to respect for me.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “Badass. You are so badass.”

Her lips twitch with a mixture of pride and anxiety I don’t fully understand until she says, “Thanks, but I’m not that badass. I mean, I’m fine with saying the ‘L’ word first, but if you don’t say it back to me pretty soon, I’m going to hurl myself into the garden and cry all over the tomatoes.”

“Just don’t cry on the zucchini,” I say as I drift toward her, reaching for her hands. “You know where they’ve been.”

“Don’t joke,” she murmurs. “Not now. Not yet.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, threading my fingers through hers as I drop to both knees in the grass. “I love you, Makena DeWitt. Of course, I fucking do.”

“You have to stop kneeling all the time,” she says, shaking her head even as a relieved laugh bursts from her chest. “You’re injured, dumbass.”

“I am a dumbass,” I agree, gazing up into her flushed face.

“I should have told you I loved you that night on the beach in Mobile. Or at the crawfish festival, the second you got off stage after the mating call contest.” I hesitate only a beat before I add, “Or that time, when I was twelve, when we jumped on the trampoline until the stars came out. Then laid down in the dark and stared at the sky and talked for hours about all the things we were going to do when we grew up. Because I’m pretty sure that’s the moment I knew for sure. ”

Her brow furrows, but before she can speak, I hurry to add, “And no, that wasn’t this kind of love. But it was love. It was friend love, like those two girls in that show we binged at your dad’s place the day it rained too hard to go to the water park.”

“Anne and Diana,” Makena whispers, fresh tears shining in her eyes. “From Anne of Green Gables. They were bosom friends.”

I smile, my eyes starting to sting a little now, too. “Yep, that’s it. You were always my bosom friend. And now, I get to touch your bosom, and I honestly couldn’t be any happier. I’m so sorry I fucked up yesterday. I never should have sent my bosom friend away, and I promise I never will again.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Yeah? You promise?”

I nod, squeezing her fingers tighter as I vow, “Cross my heart and hope to die. From now on, we stick like glue, even when it’s hard. Even when we disagree and things are stressful or shitty or uncomfortable.”

She nods, seeming comforted by the promise. “Yes. Because sometimes we’ll have to fight. All people fight, even people who love each other.”

“Yeah, they do,” I agree, rising to my feet.

She nods harder as she helps me up. “And we will, too, but it will be fine. We’ll fight, get through it, and then, we’ll get to have make-up sex.”

“And make-up sex is great,” I say, pulling her into my arms. “Or, so I’ve heard. I’ve never had make-up sex before, but I want to start. I want to have all the sex with you.”

“Me, too,” she says, before adding with an absolutely straight face, “including zucchini sex. Right here in the garden.”

I grin. “There she is. That’s my girl. I knew you’d bring the joke full circle.”

Eyes dancing, she teases, “Who says it’s a joke? I gave Charlotte Nix’s number, by the way. I snuck it into her planner, so tell him to be ready. Just in case.”

“Will do.” I cradle her closer, happier than ever that she’s mine to hold.

“She’s going to need a hot date to a wedding at the end of the summer,” she explains. “Her evil ex invited her to come watch him marry her former assistant, who happens to be fifteen years younger than both of them and was totally Charlotte’s friend first.”

Eyes narrowing, I make a hissing sound.

She laughs as she twines her arms around my neck. “Exactly. I knew you’d get it. You spend a lot of time in locker rooms with sweaty boys, but deep down, you’re a girls’ guy.”

“Not so deep down.” I tip my head closer to hers. “All my favorite people are girls. You. Nana. Minnie, at the bakery, who makes my favorite gluten-free chocolate cake.”

She jerks her head back, glaring up at me. “What was that last part?”

Grinning, I say, “Just because I haven’t had yours yet, obviously. I’m sure, once I have, your chocolate cake will be my favorite.” I reach down, copping a feel of her fine ass. “All your cake is my favorite.”

She leans into me again, seemingly mollified. “Damned straight, it is. As soon as Dad leaves, we’re going to the store. I’m going to make you a chocolate cake before we go to bed tonight.”

I hum approvingly beneath my breath. “That will be a fabulous excuse to stay up late after we’ve put Nana to bed and bang in the kitchen.”

“I was thinking in the gym on my yoga mat.”

“I love your yoga mat,” I shoot back, hand getting scandalously close to darting beneath the hem of her skirt. “And I love this little pink dress. Is it new?”

She shakes her head, lifting her lips to mine as she whispers, “No, but the panties underneath are. Charlotte bought them for me this morning after our coffee date. Said I needed pussy confidence.”

“I love Charlotte,” I whisper against her mouth. “And your pussy confidence. And your pussy.”

“You’re such a—” She breaks off with a squeal as she steps into that gopher hole I definitely should have warned her about.

She goes down, and I tumble to the grass with her, thankfully without twisting my knee. But still!

“Fucking gophers,” I say, cursing their family line as I brace my arms on either side of her face. “Are you okay?”

She giggles as she nods. “You?”

“So okay,” I murmur as I settle between her thighs.

“You didn’t hurt your knee again?”

“Nope, my knee is fine. My lips, on the other hand…” I’m in the middle of giving her the slow, sexy “welcome home” kiss she deserves, when Nana calls out from the back deck, “Get in here, you two, and eat before the food gets cold. I hate cold corn, and Kevin is blushing.”

Makena giggles again, turning her head as she shouts, “Sorry, Dad!”

Kevin calls back from what sounds like just inside the door, “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m an adult. I even went on a first date last week.”

Makena’s eyes widen as they find mine. “Oh, wow,” she whispers. “That’s a big step for Dad. He hasn’t dated in years. We should go brag on him.”

“And eat hot corn,” I agree. “But as soon as he leaves, we’re making out in the garage before we head to the store. I need kisses to hold me over until the cake batter’s ready.”

She arches a mischievous brow. “And what are you going to do with the cake batter, Mr. Parker? Might I ask?”

“You’ll see,” I promise.

And see, she does…