Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Because I’m not alone anymore.
I would really like to keep it that way, but tonight isn’t the night to push Makena to redefine the relationship. We’re both too tired, and I have a private PT session first thing in the morning.
“Well, we did the damn thing.” Makena yawns wide. “What a Friday, huh? I’m beat.”
“Me, too. Bedtime procedures?” I suggest.
“Bedtime procedures,” she agrees.
We head inside, through the kitchen, down the darkened hallway to her door. Outside, she turns to face me. Our gazes lock and hold, neither of us looking away. Her mascara’s smudged again, her hair frizzy from standing over the hot plate, and she smells faintly of garlic.
And she’s beautiful.
And I’m pretty sure I’m even more in love with her than I was a few hours ago.
“Listen,” she whispers, that nervous look creeping back into her eyes, “I know things got a little crazy earlier, but I—”
Before she can finish, I cut her off with a kiss. Not a family bathroom kiss—a slow, steady kiss. A kiss that promises: I’m in no rush.
That I’ll wait.
That nothing between us is “crazy.”
That I’m going to be here, holding the line until she decides it’s safe to trust me.
After a beat, she melts into my chest, her fingers curling in my shirt, and the rest of the world fades away. When we finally break apart a few minutes later, there’s a steadiness in the air between us that wasn’t there before.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I promise. “Or whenever. No rush.”
She nods, her hands slowly flattening on my chest. She rests them over my heart for a beat, then nods. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
I step back, already missing her warmth. “Night, Mack.”
“Night, Parker.” She reaches for her door handle, then pauses. “And Parker?”
“Yeah?”
“If you jerk off tonight, you have to think of me,” she says with utter seriousness. “Those are the rules.”
I grin. “Well, if those are the rules, I guess I have to obey them. I mean, as long as the same applies to you.”
She gives a mock roll of her eyes. “Girls don’t jerk off. Everyone knows that. We have nothing to jerk.”
“Semantics.”
“Facts,” she counters. She’s through the door now, only her face visible in the gap. “But yeah, I’ll be thinking of you. I always do lately.”
The door closes with a soft click, and I’m left standing in the hallway with the dopiest, happiest smile in human history stretched wide across my face.
Chapter
Nine
MAKENA
Iwake with my heart trying to punch its way out of my chest and bolt upright with a gasp.
Not my favorite way to start a morning, but sadly, not that unusual since the near-death experience of it all.
Being nearly swallowed alive by a storm surge does things to a girl…
But there are no flood-flavored dreams lingering in my brain cobwebs this morning as I sag back onto the pillow. Something else woke me in a panic.
Something I can’t quite remember now that I’m awake…
Maybe it’s the fact that you broke the no-touch rule with your roomie and, if Fate hadn’t intervened, would have ridden Parker’s monster dick all night…
Excellent point, Inner Voice, but that’s not it, either.
Parker’s monster dick—and his good heart and the fact that we almost did it in a bathroom under the watchful eyes of several taxidermy squirrels, will have to be dealt with—but there’s something more pressing on my sleepy brain.
Something that woke me with a racing heart and a sinking sense of dread dragging at my stomach…
“Luis,” I whisper as it all comes rushing back to me.
Specifically, what Luis said last night about his insurance only covering the structure of his family’s home, not the contents.
Surely, that can’t be the case for me. That isn’t even my building. I’m a renter. The contents of my restaurant are the only thing it makes sense for my policy to cover. So, it’s probably fine. I mean, I haven’t heard from my claim representative since the day after the flood, when her secretary sent confirmation that my email had been received and Rachael would get back to me as soon as possible, but…
Well, in light of the sheer volume of calls and emails she must have received, I haven’t been worried.
Still, it’s been almost a week, and their website says the office is open on Saturdays.
Thanks to burning the midnight oil last night, it’s already 9:03. I should just call them and put my mind at ease. There’s no point in stressing about something that is likely a non-issue.
Rolling over, I grab my cell from beside the bed, then snuggle back under the covers as I place the call.
“Pelican State Insurance, Mitzy speaking, how can I help you?” a chipper voice answers after the second ring.
“Hey, Mitzy, this is Makena DeWitt,” I say, matching her chipper. You always win more bees with honey. “Thanks for taking my call. I just had a quick question about my coverage. I’m happy to wait as long as it takes for my flood claim to be processed—I know how busy y’all are right now—I just…” I exhale an only slightly nervous-sounding laugh. “Well, a little reassurance from Rachael would go a long way right now. Is she in this morning? And if so, could you connect me, please?”