The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

I nod my head and hold his eye contact. “Understandable. I promise to be good to her—to both of them.”

He clasps his hand firmly on my shoulder, squeezes, and then stands and walks out of the room. He didn’t say it, but I know I have his blessing, and I’ve never felt more honored in my life.

“So you called me your boyfriend earlier,” Drew says, stroking my hair as I cuddle against his chest. We’re not supposed to be in bed together. The look in my grandaddy’s eye when he told us he put an extra blanket in the guest bedroom for Drew said, Don’t even think about it, missy. But I’ve always been a rulebreaker, so ten minutes after lights out, I texted Drew.

Me: Brrrrrr. It’s cold in here. Are you cold?

Drew: No. Go to sleep.

Me: I can’t. So cold. Limbs are freezing off.

Drew: I know what you’re trying to do.

Me: Is it working?

Drew: Nope. You saw the look in that man’s eye before bed. I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me if he catches me in your room again. Did you know he has a lie detector?!

Me: OH NO! Did he use that old thing on you?

Drew: Yes. And now he knows way more about me than anyone ever should.

Me: I’m so sorry. Did it change your mind about me? Do you want to bail now? Is it too much?

In the next minute, Drew was sliding under the sheets of my full-sized bed and pulling me into his chest. “Not a chance,” he said, kissing my head.

And now here we are and he’s trying to trap me into a DTR.

“Ohhhhh. You thought I said boyfriend? Nah, I said it like…this is Drew…he’s a boy…and my friend. But I can see how you were confused.”

Drew leisurely runs his fingers through my hair and hums, telling me he doesn’t believe my tricks for a second. “Yeah, right. You meant it, and now I get to claim you as my girlfriend whenever I want.”

“You sound like a 12-year-old.”

“And you love it. In fact, I think you love me…” His fingers never stop their ministrations, but my heart does stop for a fraction of a second.

I gasp and tilt my chin up to show Drew how stupid I think that idea is. “I do not! Not even close. Like miles and miles and miles away from love. Tolerance is what you’re thinking of.”

“Is that why you stare at me when you think I’m not looking? Why you smelled my shirt earlier after I changed?” HE SAW THAT?! “You just tolerate me?”

I feel like I’m on a sinking ship. Half of it is already underwater and the captain has told everyone to abort and jump into a dinghy, but I’ve climbed to the top of the stern and am holding on for dear life. “Drew, we’ve only been dating for less than 48 hours. How could I possibly love you already?” How?!

“Time has nothing to do with it, and we’ve been living together for almost a month. Face it, Jessie, you’ve been in love with me since your eyes first landed on all this sexiness.” Thank God he’s cracking jokes, because honestly, he’s not wrong. I’m not ready to face that truth out loud yet.

I jab my fingers into his ribs and tickle like I’m a merciless tyrant. He struggles to get away, trying to strangle a laugh in his throat so my grandaddy doesn’t hear us, and he almost falls off the bed. Finally, when he can’t take any more, he grabs both my wrists and pins them on either side of my head. His face hovers over mine, and I can see a dangerous mix of emotions swirling in his deep ocean eyes.

“I don’t know how to put a label on what we are, but I want one. Everything about our relationship is unique, and I realize you’re on the brink of a completely different life. I know going out on dates and physical affection will be limited and maybe even non-existent for a while. I’m completely fine with all of that, and you will find I can be the most patient man in the world. But I want something, even if it’s just a word that tells me you’ve officially let me in, that says we are together and gives me the right to adore you like I want to.”

I bite the corner of my mouth and roll my eyes toward the ceiling so I don’t cry. It’s no use though; a tear escapes. “I’m so sick of crying over everything,” I say, making Drew laugh.

He dips down to kiss the spot below my ear, and I sigh with pleasure. He rotates back so his head is on the pillow, pulling me up on his chest again. “Only a little longer…until you have the baby and cry even more than this.”

I groan. “Terrible.” Nuzzling my face against his bare skin, I breathe in the scent of body wash and deodorant and Drew. “Okay, Andrew, you win. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Drew doesn’t say anything, just lets out a full, deep breath and pulls me in tighter to him. The baby must be squished because it kicks Drew right in the side, making us both laugh. He moves his hand to rest on my belly like he’s already helping soothe my fussy child. I want to stay awake. I want to make out with Drew and maybe even give some of that other physical affection he was talking about a chance. We were well on our way earlier, and I loved it. Drew’s mouth is so intoxicating. If he were an alcohol, he’d be aged bourbon. His kisses are sweet aromatics, his touch is a spice that burns, and his proof is so high I won’t be able to walk a straight line. I want to be under the influence of his lips and hands all night, but the eight-months-pregnant side of me says, Sleeeeppppp, in an alluring siren call. Must. Answer. Its. Call.

“Good night, Jessie,” Drew says as his lips press against my forehead.

“Hmm? No!” I say, my protests sounding as if I’ve had somewhere around eighteen beers. “I’m awake. I brought you in here to mess around. Totally game. Let’s get busy.” But my words all slur together.